The grateful elephant

by Eugene Watson Burlingame

Griffin and snakes.

In times past Kadrū and Vinatā, the two wives of Kashyapa, had a quarrel. Kadrū said that the horses of the Sun were black, and Vinatā said that they were white, and they made a wager that whichever of the two was wrong should become a slave of the other. Then Kadrū, bent on winning, actually induced her sons the snakes to defile the horses of the Sun by spitting venom over them; and showing them to Vinatā thus defiled, she conquered her by a trick and made her her slave.

When the griffin, the son of Vinatā, heard of that, he came and tried to induce Kadrū to release Vinatā from slavery. Then the snakes, the sons of Kadrū, said to the griffin, the son of Vinatā: “O griffin, the gods have begun to churn the sea of milk. Fetch thence the drink of immortality and give it to us as a substitute, and then take your mother away with you.” When the griffin heard these words, he went to the sea of milk and displayed his mighty prowess in order to obtain the drink of immortality. Then the god Vishnu, pleased with his mighty prowess, condescended to say to him: “I am pleased with thee; choose some boon.” Then the griffin, angry because his mother had been made a slave, asked the following boon of Vishnu: “May the snakes become my food!” Vishnu granted him this boon. Now Indra, king of the gods, listened to the conversation, and when the griffin, by his mighty prowess, had obtained the drink of immortality, he said to him: “O griffin, take steps to prevent the foolish snakes from consuming the drink of immortality, and to enable me to take it away from them again.” The griffin agreed, and elated by the boon of Vishnu, he went to the snakes with the vessel containing the drink of immortality.

And he called out from afar to the snakes: “To you have I brought the drink of immortality. Take it, and release my mother. But if you are afraid, I will put it on a bed of darbha-grass. So soon as my mother is released, I will go; therefore take the drink of immortality thence.” Now the snakes were terrified by reason of the boon which Vishnu had granted to the griffin, and at once agreed to the bargain. Then the griffin set on a bed of darbha-grass the vessel containing the drink of immortality, and the snakes released his mother from slavery, and the griffin departed with her.

But while the snakes, not suspicious of a ruse, were in the very act of taking the drink of immortality, Indra, king of the gods, suddenly swooped down, and confounding them with his mighty prowess, carried off the vessel containing the drink of immortality. Then the snakes in despair licked the bed of darbha-grass with their tongues, thinking that there might be so much as a drop of the drink of immortality spilt thereon; whereupon—wonderful to relate—their tongues became split, and they became double-tongued for nothing.

Thus did the snakes fail to obtain the drink of immortality. And straightway their enemy the griffin, relying on the boon which he had obtained from Vishnu, swooped down on them and began to devour them. And this he did again and again. And he wrought such havoc among them that the snakes in Pātāla were nigh unto death from sheer fright, and their females miscarried, and the whole race of the snakes was nigh unto utter destruction. Then Vāsuki, king of the snakes, fearing that the whole race of the snakes would be rooted out, begged the griffin to relent, and made the following agreement with him: “O king of birds, every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, I will send you a single snake to eat. But you must not commit the folly of entering Pātāla, for by destroying utterly the whole race of the snakes, you will only defeat your own purpose.” The griffin consented. So every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, sends to the griffin, the king of the birds, a single snake to eat. And the griffin, the king of the birds, devours each day the snake which Vāsuki, king of the birds, sends to him to eat. These heaps of bones are the bones of the snakes which the griffin has eaten, and which, gradually accumulating, have come to look like the peak of a mountain.

Fairy-prince and griffin.

When Jīmūta-vāhana, the fairy-prince, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, heard this story from the lips of his companion, he was pricked to the heart. And he said to his companion: “Of a truth, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, is to be pitied, for that, like a coward, he delivers with his own hand into the hands of his most bitter enemy the snakes that are his subjects. Since he has a thousand faces and a thousand mouths, why can he not say with one of his mouths to the griffin who is his enemy: ‘Eat me first, O griffin!’” Then did the noble-hearted Jīmūta-vāhana make the following Earnest Wish: “May I, by the sacrifice of my own body and blood, obtain Supreme Enlightenment!”

At that moment a servant summoned Jīmūta-vāhana’s companion to return home, and Jīmūta-vāhana, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, was left alone. And Jīmūta-vāhana roamed about alone, intent on carrying out the resolution which he had formed. And as he roamed about, he heard afar off a piteous sound of weeping. And drawing near, he beheld on a lofty slab of rock a youth of handsome appearance plunged in bitter grief. And by his side stood an officer of some monarch, as if he had brought him and left him there. And the youth was seeking to persuade an old woman who was weeping, to cease her weeping and return whence she had come.

And Jīmūta-vāhana stood and listened, melted with pity, eager to know who he might be, and she. And the old woman, overwhelmed with the burden of her grief, began to look again and again at the youth, and to lament her misfortune in the following words: “Alas, my son! thou that wast obtained by me at the cost of a hundred bitter pangs! Alas, virtuous youth! Alas, only scion of our family, where shall I behold thee again? Bereft of thee, thy father will be plunged into the darkness of sorrow, and will not for long endure to live. That body of thine, which would suffer even from the torch of the sun’s rays,—how can it endure the agony of being devoured by the griffin? How comes it that Fate and the king of the snakes were able to discover thee, the only son of ill-starred me, though the world of the snakes is wide?” Thereupon the youth said: “Mother, I am afflicted enough as it is. Why do you afflict me more? Return to your home, I beg you. This is my last reverence to you. The griffin will soon be here.” When the old woman heard those words, she cast her sorrowful eyes all around the horizon, and cried aloud: “Alas, I am undone! Who will deliver my son from death?”