Jataka Vol. I: Book I.--Ekanipāta: No. 33. Sammodamāna-Jātaka
p. 85
No. 33.
SAMMODAMĀNA-JĀTAKA.
"While concord reigns." This story was told by the Master while dwelling in the
Banyan-grove near Kapilavatthu, about a squabble over a porter's head-pad,
as will be related in the Kuṇāla-jātaka 1.
On this occasion, however, the Master spoke thus to his kinsfolk:--"My lords,
strife among kinsfolk is unseemly. Yes, in bygone times, animals, who had
defeated their enemies when they lived in concord, came to utter destruction
when they fell out." And at the request of his royal kinsfolk, he told this
story of the past.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a
quail, and lived in the forest at the head of many thousands of quails. In those
days a fowler who caught quails came to that place; and he used to imitate the
note of a quail till he saw that the birds had been drawn together, when he
flung his net over them, and whipped the sides of the net together, so as to get
them all huddled up in a heap. Then he crammed them into his basket, and going
home sold his prey for a living.
Now one day the Bodhisatta said to those quails, "This fowler is making havoc
among our kinsfolk. I have a device whereby he will be unable to catch us.
Henceforth, the very moment he throws the net over you, let each one put his
head through a mesh and then all of you together must fly away with the net to
such place as you please, and there let it down on a thorn-brake; this done, we
will all escape from our several meshes." "Very good," said they all in ready
agreement.
On the morrow, when the net was cast over them, they did just as the Bodhisatta
had told them:--they lifted up the net, [209] and let it down on a thorn-brake,
escaping themselves from underneath. While the fowler was still disentangling
his net, evening came on; and he went away empty-handed. On the morrow and
following days the quails played the same trick. So that it became the regular
thing for the fowler to be engaged till sunset disentangling his net, and then
to betake himself home empty-handed. Accordingly his wife grew angry and said,
"Day by day you return empty-handed; I suppose you've got a second establishment
to keep up elsewhere."
p. 86
"No, my dear," said the fowler; "I've no second establishment to keep up. The
fact is those quails have come to work together now. The moment my net is over
them, off they fly with it and escape, leaving it on a thorn-brake. Still, they
won't live in unity always. Don't you bother yourself; as soon as they start
bickering among themselves, I shall bag the lot, and that will bring a smile to
your face to see." And so saying, he repeated this stanza to his wife:--
While concord reigns, the birds bear off the net.
When quarrels rise, they'll fall a prey to me.
Not long after this, one of the quails, in alighting on their feeding ground,
trod by accident on another's head. "Who trod on my head?" angrily cried this
latter. "I did; but I didn't mean to. Don't be angry," said the first quail. But
notwithstanding this answer, the other remained as angry as before. Continuing
to answer one another, they began to bandy taunts, saying, "I suppose it is you
single-handed who lift up the net." As they wrangled thus with one another, the
Bodhisatta thought to himself, "There's no safety with one who is quarrelsome.
The time has come when they will no longer lift up the net, and thereby they
will come to great destruction. The fowler will get his opportunity. I can stay
here no longer." And thereupon he with his following went elsewhere.
Sure enough the fowler [210] came back again a few days later, and first
collecting them together by imitating the note of a quail, flung his net over
them. Then said one quail, "They say when you were at work lifting the net, the
hair of your head fell off. Now's your time; lift away." The other rejoined,
"When you were lifting the net, they say both your wings moulted. Now's your
time; lift away."
But whilst they were each inviting the other to lift the net, the fowler himself
lifted the net for them and crammed them in a heap into his basket and bore them
off home, so that his wife's face was wreathed with smiles.
_____________________________
"Thus, sire," said the Master, "such a thing as a quarrel among kinsfolk is
unseemly; quarrelling leads only to destruction." His lesson ended, he shewed
the connexion, and identified the Birth, by saying, "Devadatta was the foolish
quail of those days, and I myself the wise and good quail."
[Note. See for the migrations of this story Benfey's Pañca-Tantra 1. 304, and
Fausböll in R.AṢ. Journal, 1870. See also Julien's Avadānas, Vol. 1. page 155.]
Footnotes
85:1 No. 536.
Next: No. 34. Maccha-Jātaka
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