Prevod
He who tries to engage such a person in conversation comes to grief.
But the bird disregarded him and went on addressing the monkeys without pause: “Friends! Why all this useless trouble?” When he still would not stop chattering, one of the monkeys, enraged by their fruitless efforts, seized him by the wings and dashed him against a rock, killing him. That is why I say, “Wood that will not bend cannot be bent,” and so forth. As it is also said:
Advice given to fools provokes anger, not peace;
Milk drunk by serpents only increases their venom.
And again:
Advice should not be given to just anyone.
See how a foolish monkey left the well-housed bird homeless.
Damanaka asked, “How did that happen?” The other replied: Story 18. In a certain forest, a pair of sparrows lived in a nest they had built hanging from the branch of a shami tree. One day, as they rested comfortably, a winter cloud began to drizzle. Just then a monkey, battered by wind and rain, his fur bristling, his teeth chattering like a lute, came shivering to the foot of that shami tree and sat down. Seeing him in this condition, the female sparrow said, “My good fellow!
You have hands and feet and look like a man. Fool, if the cold cuts you so, why do you not build yourself a house?”
Hearing this, the monkey said angrily, “You wretched creature! Why will you not take a vow of silence? What insolence! She dares mock me now!
This needle-faced, ill-mannered slut, who talks as though she were a scholar,
Chatters on without a trace of fear. Why should I not kill her?”
After this outburst he said to her, “Foolish bird! What business have you troubling yourself about me? For it is said:
Give counsel to one who listens with faith, especially when he asks for it.
Words spoken to one without faith are like cries in the wilderness.”
But why say more? The sparrow, sitting in her nest, spoke to him again. At once he climbed the shami tree and tore her nest into a hundred pieces. That is why I say, “Advice should not be given,” and so forth.
“And so, you fool, though you have been taught, you have learned nothing. Or perhaps the fault is not yours: instruction brings virtue to a good man, but not to a wicked one. As it is said:
What use is learning bestowed where it does not belong?
It is like a lamp placed inside a dark, concealing pot.
“Relying on your useless learning and refusing to heed my words, you are bringing about your own ruin. Surely you are a son who disgraces his birth. For it is said:
Those versed in the scriptures recognize four kinds of sons in this world:
The mother’s equal, the father’s equal, the son who surpasses his father, and the son who falls beneath him.
A son whose virtues match his mother’s is the first; his father’s equal is the second.
The third surpasses his father; the fourth is the lowest of the low.
A scoundrel, delighted by another’s misfortune, takes no account even of his own destruction.
A headless trunk will often dance on the battlefield though its head is lost.
“Ah, how well it is said:
Dharmabuddhi and Kubuddhi—I know them both.
Through the son’s misguided cleverness, his father was killed by smoke.”
Damanaka asked, “How did that happen?” The other replied: Story 20. The Tale of the Black Snake. In a certain country lived two friends, Dharmabuddhi and Papabuddhi. One day Papabuddhi thought, “I am a fool, and poor besides. I shall take Dharmabuddhi with me to another country, earn money with his help, and then cheat him out of his share as well. That will make me happy.” So, on another day, Papabuddhi said to Dharmabuddhi, “My friend! When you are old, what deeds of your own will you have to remember? If you never see other countries, what tales will you have to tell in cultivated company? For it is said:
He who has not traveled over the earth and learned the many languages, customs, and ways of dress of other lands
Has wasted the fruit of his birth.
And again:
A man does not fully acquire learning, wealth, or skill
Until he travels gladly over the earth, from country to country.”
Delighted by these words, Dharmabuddhi obtained his elders’ permission and set off with him for foreign lands on an auspicious day. As they traveled, Papabuddhi acquired a great deal of wealth through Dharmabuddhi’s abilities. At last, having both amassed considerable fortunes, they joyfully set out for home, eager to return. For it is said:
To those who have lived abroad and gained learning, wealth, and skill,
Even a single krosha of the homeward road seems a hundred yojanas long.
As they drew near their home, Papabuddhi said to Dharmabuddhi, “My friend! We ought not to take all this money home. Our families and relatives will be asking for it. Let us bury it somewhere here in the depths of the forest and enter the town with only a little. Whenever we need more, we can come back together and take just what we require. For it is said:
A wise man should not display his wealth to anyone, however little it may be.
The sight of it can unsettle even a sage’s mind.
And again:
Just as flesh is devoured by fish in water, by beasts on land,
And by birds in the sky, so is the wealthy man preyed upon everywhere.”
Hearing this, Dharmabuddhi said, “Very well, my friend. Let us do so.” Having carried out their plan, they both went home and lived comfortably. Then one night Papabuddhi went into the forest at midnight, took all the money, filled in the hole, and returned to his house.
On another day he went to Dharmabuddhi and said, “My friend, I have a large family, and we are suffering for want of money. Let us go to that place and bring back a little.”
“Very well, my friend,” he replied. “Let us do so.”
They both went there and dug up the spot, only to find the vessel empty. At once Papabuddhi began beating his head and cried, “Dharmabuddhi! You have taken this money, and no one else! The hole has been filled in again. Give me my half, or I shall report you to the king’s court.” Dharmabuddhi replied, “You wicked man! Do not say such a thing! I am Dharmabuddhi, whose mind is set on righteousness. I would never commit such a theft. For it is said:
The righteous regard other men’s wives as their mothers, other men’s wealth as clods of earth,
And all living beings as themselves.”
So the two went before the magistrate, arguing and accusing each other. The officers presiding over the court were about to order them to undergo an ordeal when Papabuddhi said, “Ah! The proper course of justice has not been observed. For it is said:
In a dispute, seek a document; failing that, seek witnesses.
Only when witnesses are lacking do the wise prescribe an ordeal.
“In this matter, the tree deities are my witnesses. They will declare which of us is the thief and which is honest.” All the officers replied, “Sir, you have spoken rightly. For it is said:
When even an outcaste is available as a witness in a dispute,
An ordeal is not warranted—how much less when forest deities are witnesses!
“We too are most curious about this matter. At daybreak, both of you must accompany us to that part of the forest.” Meanwhile, Papabuddhi went home and said to his father, “Father, I have stolen a great deal of money from Dharmabuddhi. A word from you will secure it for us; otherwise, we shall lose it and our lives as well.”
His father replied, “Quickly tell me, my son, what I must say to make the money safely ours.”
Papabuddhi said, “Father, there is a great shami tree in that place, with a large hollow in its trunk. Go inside it at once. Tomorrow morning, when I call for the truth to be proclaimed, you must say that Dharmabuddhi is the thief.”
This was done. At daybreak Papabuddhi bathed and went to the shami tree with the court officers, Dharmabuddhi leading the way. Then he proclaimed in a loud voice:
“The sun and moon, the wind and fire, heaven, earth, water, the heart, and Yama, day and night, and both twilights—
And Dharma himself—know the deeds of men.
“Revered goddess of the forest! Tell us which of us is the thief.”
Then Papabuddhi’s father, hidden in the hollow of the shami tree, said, “Listen! Dharmabuddhi stole the money.”
Hearing this, all the king’s officers stared wide-eyed in amazement. While they were consulting the law books to determine the proper punishment for Dharmabuddhi’s theft, Dharmabuddhi heaped combustible material around the hollow of the shami tree and set it alight. As the hollow blazed, Papabuddhi’s father stumbled out, his body half burned and his eyes bursting, crying out in agony. They all asked, “What is this?”
He told them that the whole wicked scheme had been contrived by Papabuddhi, and then he died. The king’s officers hanged Papabuddhi from a branch of the shami tree and, praising Dharmabuddhi, said, “Ah, how well it is said:
A wise man should consider not only his plan, but also its dangers.
Before the foolish heron’s very eyes, his young were devoured by mongooses.”
Dharmabuddhi asked, “How did that happen?” They replied: Story 21. The Tale of the Merchant’s Son Named Jirnadhana. In a certain forest stood a banyan tree inhabited by many herons. In a hollow of its trunk lived a black snake, who passed his days eating the herons’ chicks before their feathers had even grown. One heron, seeing that his young had been devoured, was overcome with grief. He went to the shore of a lake and stood there with bowed head and eyes full of tears. Seeing him in this state, a crab said, “Uncle, why are you weeping like this today?”
The heron replied, “My friend, what can I do? Unlucky creature that I am, my young have been eaten by the snake that lives in the hollow. I weep because I am stricken with grief. Tell me, is there any way to destroy him?”
Hearing this, the crab thought, “He is our natural enemy. I shall give him advice, mixing truth with falsehood, that will bring destruction upon all the other herons as well. For it is said:
With words as soft as butter, but a heart devoid of pity,
Guide your enemy in such a way that he perishes with all his kin.”
Then he said, “Uncle, if that is how matters stand, scatter pieces of fish from the entrance of a mongoose’s burrow all the way to the snake’s hollow. The mongoose will follow the trail and destroy that wicked snake.”
The heron did so. Following the pieces of fish, the mongoose killed the black snake, and then, little by little, devoured all the herons living in that tree as well. That is why we say, “A wise man should consider not only his plan,” and so forth.
“In just this way, you fool, you have devised a disaster rather than a remedy, like Papabuddhi. You are no good man; your mind is set only on evil. I have recognized you for what you are, since you brought our master’s life into danger. You yourself have exposed your wickedness and deceit. Or, as it is well said:
Who, however hard he tried, could see the passage through which a peacock’s food comes out,
If those fools did not dance in their delight at the thunder of the clouds?
“If you can bring our master to such a state, what account would you take of someone like me? You must therefore keep away from me. For it is said:
Where mice eat a balance made of a thousand measures of iron,
There, O king, a hawk may carry off a boy—of that there is no doubt.”
Damanaka asked, “How did that happen?” The other replied: Story 22. The Tale of the Merchant’s Son Named Jirnadhana. In a certain town lived a merchant’s son named Jirnadhana. Having lost his fortune, he thought of traveling to another country, reflecting:
“A man who remains destitute in the country or place
Where once he enjoyed pleasures earned by his own efforts is the lowest of men.
And again:
He who begs others for help in the very place
Where he once lived long in pride and splendor earns contempt.”
Now in his house there was a balance made of a thousand measures of iron, an heirloom acquired by his ancestors. He left it for safekeeping in the house of a certain wealthy merchant and set off for another country. After wandering abroad at his pleasure for a long time, he returned to his own town and said to the merchant, “Sir, please return the balance I left in your keeping.”
The merchant replied, “My friend, your balance is no longer here. Mice ate it.”
Jirnadhana said, “Sir, if mice ate it, the fault is not yours. Such is this world: nothing in it lasts forever. But I am going to the river to bathe. Please send your boy Dhanadeva with me, carrying my bathing things.” Troubled by his theft and suspicious of the other man, the merchant said to his son, “My boy, this uncle of yours is going to the river to bathe. Take his bathing things and go with him.” Ah, how well it is said:
No man does another a kindness out of affection alone,
Without fear, hope of gain, or some practical purpose.
And again:
Where excessive courtesy is shown without any apparent reason,
One should be suspicious, for it may end in sorrow.
The merchant’s son happily took the bathing things and set off with the visitor. After bathing, Jirnadhana shut the boy in a cave beside the river, blocked its entrance with a large stone, and quickly returned to the house. The merchant asked him, “My guest, tell me: where is my boy, who went to the river with you?”
He replied, “A hawk carried him off from the riverbank.”
The merchant said, “You liar! How could a hawk ever carry off a boy? Give me back my son, or I shall report you to the king’s court!”
Jirnadhana replied, “You paragon of truth! Just as a hawk cannot carry off a boy, neither can mice eat a balance made of iron. So return my balance if you want your son.” Arguing in this way, they both went to the king’s court.
There the merchant cried out at the top of his voice, “Outrage! Outrage! This thief has stolen my son!”
The magistrates said to Jirnadhana, “Sir, return the merchant’s son.”
He replied, “What can I do? A hawk carried the boy off from the riverbank before my very eyes.”
Hearing this, they said, “Sir, you are not telling the truth. Can a hawk possibly carry off a boy?”
He replied, “Gentlemen, please hear me:
Where mice eat a balance made of a thousand measures of iron,
There, O king, a hawk may carry off a boy—of that there is no doubt.”
They asked, “How is that?”
Then the merchant related the whole affair before the members of the court. They laughed, brought the two men to an understanding, and satisfied them both by arranging the return of the balance and the boy.
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“That is why I say, ‘Where mice eat a balance made of a thousand measures of iron,’ and so forth.
“You fool! You did this because you could not bear the favor shown to Sanjivaka. Ah, how well it is said: Men of low birth commonly revile the well-born, the unfortunate revile fortune’s favorites,
Misers revile the generous, the crooked revile the upright, and the penniless revile the wealthy;
Those afflicted with ugliness revile the handsome, and sinners revile the righteous;
And fools forever revile the man versed in many branches of learning.
And again:
Fools hate the learned; the poor hate the very rich;
The wicked hate those faithful to their vows, and unchaste women hate virtuous wives.
“You fool, even in trying to help, you have done harm. For it is said:
Better a wise enemy than a foolish friend:
A king was killed by a monkey, while Brahmins were saved by a thief.”
Damanaka asked, “How did that happen?” The other replied: Story 23. A certain king had a monkey as his personal attendant. The monkey was utterly devoted to him, enjoyed his complete confidence, and was allowed to roam freely even through the inner apartments. One day, while the king slept and the monkey fanned him, a fly settled on the king’s chest. Though the monkey repeatedly drove it off with the fan, it kept returning to the same spot. At last the foolish monkey, naturally impulsive and now enraged, seized a sharp sword and struck at it. The fly flew away, but the keen-edged blade split the king’s chest in two, killing him. Therefore a king who wishes to live long should never keep a foolish attendant.
