“In a certain town, there lived a donkey, by the name of Uddhata. He belonged to a washerman. During the daytime, he carried the washerman’s heavy loads, whilst at night, he was allowed to wander as he liked, across the fields. But every morning, the donkey would return to the washerman on time – he was afraid that if he failed to, the washerman would keep him tied up all night.
One night, while the donkey was wandering about in the fields, he met a jackal and got friendly with him. Now, the donkey, being fat, could break down the hedges, and he and the jackal used to get into the cucumber fields. Whilst the donkey was gorging himself on the cucumbers, the jackal would eat poultry from the nearby farm. Then, in the morning, they would return to their respective homes.
One particular night, the donkey was standing in the middle of the cucumber fields when he suddenly said to the jackal, ‘Nephew, look! Look at the full moon and the beautiful cloudless night! I feel like singing. Tell me, what Raga shall I sing?’
‘Uncle,’ replied the jackal, ‘you have come to steal and you’ll only be asking for trouble if you sing. Thieves should always stay quiet, for they say: “A man who has a cough, Or is in a habit of dozing off, Shouldn’t take to stealing.” And, “A man who is sick, Shouldn’t take to gluttony.”
‘Besides, your singing isn’t all that pleasant. It sounds as though somebody is blowing a conch! And you can be heard a long way off. The farmers are sleeping. If you wake them, they’ll come out and beat us. So, eat some of these nectareous cucumbers and give up the idea of singing.’
“When the donkey heard this, he said, ‘My dear nephew, you’re a wild animal. You don’t appreciate the value of music. That’s why you talk like that. You know, they say: “Blessed is he who listens to sweet music, With his beloved beside him And the autumn moon shining overhead, Dispelling the darkness.” ‘
‘That’s very true, uncle,’ said the jackal, ‘but you don’t know how to sing. You only know how to bray. And what is the good of such singing when it will only bring disaster?’
‘Go on!’ said the donkey. ‘You say that I don’t know how to sing, but I know all the systems underlying musical composition. Listen: according to Bharatamuni, music consists of seven notes, three scales, twenty-one modulations, forty-nine rhythms, and three speeds. There are also several Ragas and Raginis which have to be sung at the proper time and season. Now! How can you say, after all this, that I don’t know anything about singing!’
‘Uncle,’ said the jackal, ‘if you’re so determined to sing, I’ll stay outside the hedge and be on the lookout for the farmers. Then, you can sing to your heart’s content.’ And the jackal hid himself behind the hedge.
“Now when the farmers heard the donkey braying, they clenched their teeth angrily and ran to the spot, with sticks in their hands. When they saw the donkey, they beat him so hard that he fell to the ground. Then they picked up a wooden mortar, with no bottom in it, and tied it to the donkey’s neck with a rope. Then they returned to their quarters and went back to sleep.
“As is usual with this species, the donkey soon forgot his pain and got up. They say: ‘With a dog, a horse and particularly a donkey, The pain caused by beating does not last long.’
“When the donkey jumped over the hedge, with the wooden mortar hanging from his neck, the jackal saw him and said with a smile ‘Uncle! What a song! I asked you not to sing, but you refused to listen. This exquisite necklace is your reward for singing!’
“And so,” continued Suvaranasiddhi, “that’s why I said, that you shouldn’t have turned a deaf ear to a friend’s advice.”
“That’s true,” said Chakradhara, “for they say: ‘He who neither has common sense, Nor listens to what his friends tell him, Is sure to be destroyed, Like Mantharaka, the weaver.'”
“How was that?” asked Suvaranasiddhi.
And Chakradhara told: THE STORY OF MANTHARAKA, THE WEAVER
