Prevod

Now begins the third book, called “Crows and Owls.” Its opening verse is this: Never trust a former foe, even when that enemy has become a friend. Behold the cave, crowded with owls, burned to ashes by fire brought there by a crow. The story is told as follows. In the southern country there was a city called Mahilāropya. Near it stood a banyan tree with countless branches, clothed in exceedingly thick foliage. There lived Meghavarṇa, king of the crows, surrounded by a great company of his kind. He had fortified the tree and passed his days there with his followers. Elsewhere lived a king of the owls named Arimardana, with an innumerable host of owls, sheltered in the stronghold of a mountain cave. Every night he came and circled the banyan tree. Because of their ancient enmity, whenever the owl king encountered a crow, he killed it and went on his way. Through these nightly attacks he gradually cleared the whole area around the banyan stronghold of crows. Indeed, this is only to be expected, for it is said:

He who idly neglects an enemy advancing unchecked, or a disease, is gradually destroyed by it. And again: He who fails to subdue an enemy or an illness at its first appearance, however mighty he may be, is destroyed by it when it has grown strong. One day the crow king summoned all his ministers and said, “Friends, our enemy is formidable, energetic, and skilled in choosing his moment. Every night he comes and slaughters our people. How are we to resist him? We cannot see at night, nor do we know where his stronghold is, so that we might go and attack it by day. Which course, then, should we choose: peace, war, marching out, holding our ground, seeking protection, or a double policy?” They replied, “Your Majesty has done well to raise this question. For it is said:

Even unasked, a minister should offer counsel; when asked, he must above all tell his king what serves his welfare. A minister who, when asked, fails to give advice that will bring lasting good, and speaks only to please, is to be regarded as an enemy. Therefore, Your Majesty, let us take counsel in private, so that we may devise a means to bring him under control.

For it is said: Those who bow before the stronger and strike when the time is right do not find their fortunes flowing backward, like rivers against their course. An enemy who is truthful, righteous, noble, strong, supported by brothers, and victorious in many battles is one with whom peace should be made. One should make peace even with an ignoble foe when life is in danger, for while life is preserved, everything may yet be preserved.

When a conqueror of many battles enters into an alliance with someone, his influence soon brings that ally’s enemies into submission. One should seek peace even with an equal, for victory in battle is uncertain. ‘Do not embark on a doubtful undertaking,’ said Bṛhaspati. Victory is uncertain for those who fight in this world; therefore war should be undertaken only after the other three expedients have failed.

Blinded by pride, a man who refuses peace even with an equal is utterly crushed; the stronger will not rest until he has smashed him like an unbaked pot. For the weak, battle with the powerful brings only death; the stronger remains unhurt, like a stone that has shattered an earthen pot. And further: Land, an ally, or gold—these are the three fruits of war. If none of these can be gained, one should not wage it.

A lion digging into a rat’s hole strewn with shards of stone will break his claws, and his reward, at best, will be a mouse. Therefore, where no substantial gain is possible and there is nothing but fighting, one should never bring such a war upon oneself. When assailed by someone stronger, take the way of the reed, if you wish your prosperity to endure—never the way of the serpent.

He who follows the reed’s example attains great prosperity; he who follows the serpent’s way earns only death. Draw yourself in like a tortoise and endure even blows; then, when the moment comes, rise wisely like a black cobra. A wise man should use expedients to quiet a conflict that has arisen; since victory is uncertain, he should not rush headlong into battle.

There is no sound precedent for fighting one stronger than oneself; a cloud never advances against the wind. One should not make peace with an enemy, however firmly the treaty is bound; water, though heated to the utmost, still puts out fire. And it is said: Never make peace with one devoid of truth and righteousness; what is corrupt by nature soon spoils, however sweetly perfumed.

“Therefore, in my judgment, we must fight him. For it is said: An enemy who is cruel, greedy, lazy, false, careless, cowardly, fickle, foolish, and contemptuous of his warriors is easily destroyed. “Besides, he has already defeated us. If we now speak of peace, his anger will only grow fiercer. For it is said: To conciliate an enemy who can be subdued only by force is to do harm.

What wise physician pours cold water on a fresh fever that calls for sweating? Words of conciliation only inflame an angry enemy, like drops of water suddenly falling into overheated ghee. Though the rutting elephant far exceeds him in size, the lion, relying on his great courage, sets his paw upon its head. A lesser foe, endowed with energy and strength, may kill a greater one, as the lion kills the elephant—so declares Bhāradvāja.

Enemies who cannot be slain by force must be slain by cunning, as Bhīma killed Kīcaka after assuming a woman’s guise. And again: Enemies submit to a king whose punishments are as terrible as death; but a king who endures everything they value no more than a blade of grass. What use is the birth of one whose fire never quenches the fire of mighty foes, and who has merely robbed his mother of her youth?

Prosperity whose body is not anointed with the saffron of an enemy’s blood, however lovely, brings no delight to the proud-hearted. What glory is there in the life of a king whose land has not been watered with his enemies’ blood and the tears of their wives? Against a wicked enemy, overwhelming in strength and restrained by no bounds, neither peace nor war is commended: departure alone is best.

Departure is of two kinds: one preserves life and wealth; the other is a military expedition undertaken by one who seeks conquest. A would-be conqueror of superior strength should march into an enemy’s country in Kārttika or Caitra, and not at other times. But any season is declared suitable for a sudden attack upon an enemy afflicted by calamity or weakened by some vulnerability.

Having secured his own territory with loyal, valiant, powerful warriors, he should enter the foreign country, sending spies ahead. He who invades another kingdom without knowing its forests, routes, reinforcements, water, and crops will never return to his own. “Therefore you should withdraw. And further: My lord, the second kind of departure, an expedition, is not advisable; neither war nor peace is fitting with that powerful villain.

“Moreover, the wise withdraw with a purpose. For it is said: The ram steps back only to strike; the angry lion crouches before he springs. Keeping their intentions in their hearts and their plans concealed, the wise endure, weighing some purpose of their own. And further: He who leaves his country at the sight of a powerful enemy lives to regain his realm, as Yudhiṣṭhira did.

The weak man who proudly fights against the stronger fulfills his enemy’s wish and destroys his own family. “Assailed as we are by a powerful foe, this is the time to withdraw, not to make peace or war.” Such was Anujīvin’s counsel, advocating retreat. Having heard him, the king said to Prajīvana, “Good sir, you too must tell us your opinion.” He replied, “Your Majesty, none of the three—peace, war, or departure—appeals to me. Holding our ground seems decidedly best. For it is said: A crocodile in its own element can drag down even a lordly elephant; but once displaced, it can be humbled even by a dog.

And again: When attacked by a stronger enemy, remain watchfully within your fortress, and from there summon friends to secure your deliverance. He who hears of an enemy’s approach and abandons his position, his heart distraught with fear, will never enter it again. Like a serpent without fangs or an elephant bereft of rut, a king deprived of his position is at the mercy of every creature.

Even a single man, standing in his own position, can withstand a hundred powerful enemies in battle; therefore one must not abandon one’s ground. Therefore make your fortress strong, supplied with brave warriors and provisions, protected by ramparts and moats, and furnished with weapons and all necessities. Remain within it, steadfastly resolved to fight: if you live, you will gain your kingdom; if you die, you will go to heaven. (A pair of verses.)

And further: Even the weak, united in one refuge, cannot be overcome by the strong, just as plants growing together withstand even a hostile wind. A solitary tree, though great, strong, and firmly rooted, can be violently overthrown by the wind. But trees growing close together, firmly rooted on every side, are not destroyed even by a furious gale, because they shelter one another.

So too, a man standing alone, however brave, is thought vulnerable by his enemies, who then strike him down. Such was Prajīvana’s counsel. This is the policy called holding one’s ground. Having heard this, the king said to Cirañjīvin, “Good sir, you too must tell us your opinion.” He replied, “Your Majesty, of the six policies, seeking protection seems to me the best. That is the course we should adopt. For it is said: What can even a capable and valiant man accomplish without help?

A blazing fire dies out of itself when there is no wind. Union benefits men, especially union with their own kind; rice grains stripped even of their husks will not sprout. “Remain here, then, and seek the protection of someone powerful who can remedy your misfortune. If, however, you abandon your own home and go elsewhere, no one will help you even with a word. For it is said: The wind befriends the fire that burns a forest, yet the same wind puts out a lamp. Who shows friendship to the weak?

“Nor is it absolutely necessary to seek the protection of a single powerful ally. Alliance even with the weak can provide security. For it is said: Just as a bamboo surrounded by a dense stand of other bamboos cannot be uprooted, so even a weak king is safe when supported by allies. “And if one gains the protection of someone truly great, what more need be said? For it is said: Who does not rise through association with the great?

A drop of water on a lotus leaf takes on the beauty of a pearl. “Thus, in my opinion, there is no remedy without seeking protection.” Such was Cirañjīvin’s counsel. When they had spoken, King Meghavarṇa bowed to an aged minister of his father’s, a long-lived crow named Sthirajīvin, who had mastered the whole science of statecraft, and said, “Father, although you were here, I questioned these ministers in order to test them, so that, after hearing everything, you might tell me what is best. Please now give me whatever instructions you think fitting.” He replied, “My child, all these ministers have spoken in accordance with the science of statecraft. Every one of their counsels is useful in its proper season. But this is the time for a double policy. For it is said:

When faced with a wicked and more powerful enemy, adopt a double policy, using both peace and war, while never laying aside distrust. “By winning an enemy’s confidence while placing no confidence in him, and by tempting him with gain, one may easily destroy him. For it is said: The wise sometimes strengthen an enemy whom they intend to destroy, just as phlegm, first increased with molasses, may then be wholly expelled.

And again: A man who is wholly open with women, an enemy, a false friend, and especially with courtesans, will not live long. One must act single-heartedly toward the gods, Brahmins, oneself, and one’s teacher; in all other dealings one should keep a double purpose. Singleness of heart is always commended in ascetics whose souls are disciplined, but not in those who covet prosperity, and least of all in kings.

“By adopting a double policy, you will remain in your own home and lure the enemy to his ruin through greed. Moreover, if you discover a weakness in him, you can go and strike him down.” Meghavarṇa said, “Father, I do not even know where he lives. How am I to discover his weaknesses?” Sthirajīvin replied, “My child, through spies I shall reveal not only his dwelling but his weaknesses as well. For it is said: Cows see by scent, Brahmins see through the Vedas, kings see through spies, and other people through their eyes.

And on this subject it is said: A king who, through secret agents, knows the key offices on his own side, and especially on the enemy’s, will not come to grief. Meghavarṇa said, “Father, what are these key offices? How many are there? And what sort of secret agents should be employed? Please explain it all.” He replied, “On this subject the venerable Nārada told Yudhiṣṭhira that there are eighteen key offices on the enemy’s side and fifteen on one’s own. Each should be investigated by three secret agents. Once these are known, both one’s own side and the enemy’s can be kept under control. For Nārada said to Yudhiṣṭhira: Do you keep watch over the eighteen key offices among your enemies and the fifteen on your own side,

using three unrecognized spies for each? “The term ‘key office’ refers to an official’s function. If its conduct is corrupt, it brings harm to the ruler; if excellent, it promotes his prosperity. Such officials include the minister, the royal chaplain, the commander of the army, the crown prince, the gatekeeper, the chamberlain, the chief administrator, the revenue collector, the keeper of stores, the magistrate, the herald, the superintendent of military resources, the superintendent of elephants, the treasurer, and the commanding officers responsible for forts, taxes, and frontiers. By sowing dissension among them, an enemy can quickly be overcome. On one’s own side there are the queen, the queen mother, the chamberlain, the gardener, the keeper of the bedchamber, the chief of spies, the astrologer, the physician, the betel-bearer, the teacher, the bodyguard, the quartermaster, the parasol-bearer, and the royal mistress. Hostility among these can undermine one’s own side. And again:

Physicians, astrologers, and teachers make suitable spies within one’s own circle; snake charmers and those disguised as madmen learn everything among the enemy. And again: Let secret agents skilled in their work gain a footing within the key offices and sound the depths of the vast waters of the enemy’s affairs. Having heard the minister’s words, Meghavarṇa then asked, “Father, what caused this ceaseless, deadly enmity between crows and owls?” He replied, “My child, once all the birds—swans, parrots, cuckoos, cātakas, owls, peacocks, pigeons, doves, ground birds, and the rest—gathered together and began anxiously to take counsel. ‘Alas,’ they said, ‘our king is Garuḍa, son of Vinatā, but he is devoted to Vāsudeva and gives us no thought at all. What use is such a king in name only, who does nothing to protect us when we are constantly caught in hunters’ snares? For it is said:

He who does not protect frightened creatures continually oppressed by others is surely Death himself in the guise of a king. If a king does not guide his subjects rightly, they founder like a ship at sea without a helmsman. A man should abandon these six as he would a shattered boat upon the ocean: a teacher who does not teach, a sacrificial priest who does not study, a king who does not protect, a wife who speaks harshly, a cowherd who longs for the village, and a barber who longs for the forest. (A pair of verses.)

“‘Let us therefore consider the matter and choose another king for the birds.’ Then, seeing an owl of auspicious appearance, they all declared, ‘This owl shall be our king. Bring everything needed for the royal consecration!’ Water was fetched from many sacred places; a collection of one hundred and eight herbs was prepared; a throne was set in place; a picture of the earth, adorned with its seven continents, oceans, and mountains, was drawn; a tiger skin was spread out; golden jars were filled; lamps, musical instruments, mirrors, and other auspicious objects were made ready. The foremost bards recited their praises, the Brahmins chanted the Vedas with radiant faces, and the young women sang. Kṛkālikā, the chief queen, had been brought forward, and the owl was just taking his seat upon the throne for the consecration when a crow appeared from somewhere. He thought, ‘Well, what is this gathering of all the birds, and this great celebration?’ When the birds saw him, they said to one another, ‘The crow is reputed to be clever among birds. For it is said:

Among men the barber is cunning; among birds, the crow; among fanged beasts, the jackal; and among ascetics, the white-robed mendicant.