Story of the king, and the two wise birds.
There is on the earth a famous city named Páṭaliputra. In it there lived of old time a king named Vikramakeśarin, whom Providence made a storehouse of virtues as well as of jewels. And he possessed a parrot of godlike intellect, knowing all the śástras, that had been born in that condition owing to a curse, and its name was Vidagdhachúḍámaṇi. And the prince married as a wife, by the advice of the parrot, a princess of equal birth, of the royal family of Magadha, named Chandraprabhá. That princess also possessed a similar hen-maina, of the name of Somiká, remarkable for knowledge and discernment. And the two, the parrot and the maina, remained there in the same cage, assisting with their discernment their master and mistress.
One day the parrot became enamoured of the maina, and said to her, “Marry me, fair one, as we sleep, perch, and feed in the same cage.” But the maina answered him, “I do not desire intimate union with a male, for all males are wicked and ungrateful.” The parrot retorted, “It is not true that males are wicked, but females are wicked and cruel-hearted.” And so a dispute arose between them. The two birds then made a bargain that, if the parrot won, he should have the maina for wife, and if the maina won, the parrot should be her slave, and they came before the prince to get a true judgment. The prince, who was in his father’s judgment-hall, heard the point at issue between them, and then said to the maina, “Tell me, how are males ungrateful?” Then the maina said, “Listen,” and in order to establish her contention, proceeded to relate this story illustrating the faults of males.
The maina’s story.[1]
There is on the earth a famous city, of the name of Kámandakí. In it there was a rich merchant, of the name of Arthadatta. And he had a son born to him, of the name of Dhanadatta. When his father died, the young man became dissipated. And rogues got round him, and plunged him in the love of gambling and other vices. In truth the society of the wicked is the root of the tree of vice. In a short time his wealth was exhausted by dissipation, and being ashamed of his poverty, he left his own country, to wander about in foreign lands.
And in the course of his travels, he reached a place named Chaṇḍanapura, and desiring food, he entered the house of a certain merchant. As fate would have it, the merchant, seeing that he was a handsome youth, asked him his descent and other things, and finding out that he was of good birth, entertained him, and adopted him as a protégé. And he gave him his daughter Ratnávalí, with a dower, and thenceforth Dhanadatta lived in his father-in-law’s house.
And in the course of some days, he forgot in his present happiness his former misery, and having acquired wealth, and longing for fresh dissipation, he wished to go back to his own land. Then the rascal with difficulty wrung a permission from his unwilling father-in-law, whose daughter was his only child, and taking with him his wife, covered with ornaments, accompanied by an old woman, set out from that place, with a party of three in all. And in course of time he reached a distant wood, and on the plea that there was danger of robbers, he took those ornaments from his wife and got them into his own possession. Alas! Observe that the heart of ungrateful males, addicted to the hateful vices of dicing and drabbing, is as hard as a sword.
Then the villain, being determined to kill his wife, though she was virtuous, for the sake of her wealth, threw her and the old woman into a ravine. And after he had thrown them there, he went away. The old woman was killed, but his wife was caught in a mass of creepers and did not die. And she slowly climbed up out of the chasm, weeping bitterly, supporting herself by clinging to grass and creepers, for the appointed end of her life had not yet come. And asking her way, step by step, she arrived, by the road by which she came, at the house of her father, with difficulty, for her limbs were sorely bruised. When she arrived there suddenly, in this state, her mother and father questioned her eagerly. And the virtuous lady weeping told this tale, “We were robbed on the way by bandits, and my husband was dragged away bound; the old woman died, but I survived, though I fell into a ravine. Then I was dragged out of the ravine by a certain benevolent traveller, who came that way, and by the favour of destiny I have arrived here.” When the good Ratnávalí said this, her father and mother comforted her, and she remained there, thinking only of her husband.