THE TIGER AND THE COW
Govyaghra
samvadamu, extract from Bhojarajyam by Anantamatya
Rendered
into English prose by “Rasika”
[Anantamatya belongs to the fifteenth century A. D., and
thus to that transition period in the history of Telugu literature, between the
early era of translations of the classics, epics and Puranas,
from Sanskrit, and the later era of original poems, the Prabandhas.
His contemporaries among poets, like Srinadha, Potana, Somanadha, and Jakkana, attempted translations in the manner of the
classics, but with a new vigour of imagination in
story-telling and intensity of emotion. The Bhojarajyam
of Anantamatya belongs to this period and this
variety, and is well known for the wonderful power of interesting narrative and
dramatic conversation.
The
episode of the Cow and the Tiger, presented below, in a free rendering into
English prose, has been published in the form of a continuous story in verse
with a unity of its own, as an extract from the poem, which has a complicated
structure of stories within stories, in the Telugu Kavyvmala,
compiled by the late Sri Katuri Venkateswara Rao, for the Sahitya Akademi. The specimen can
reveal only some of the excellences of the work of the great poet, like his
high moral purpose and purity of sentiment; and not
the qualities of style for which the poem is renowned; but it is still, the
translator hopes, worthy of the attention of lovers of Indian literature among
the readers of ‘Triveni’.]
Canto
IV.
Verse
129: The cow belonged to a pious Brahmin (who maintained it for the milk and
other things he needed for his daily Homa). She was
ever sincere, and a model of virtuous conduct; never indulging in fight, always
satisfied with what she had; going her way unperturbed, even in the bustle of
the herd; to milk her, it was not necessary to bind her legs with the rope, but
she would freely empty her udder, and rain down the milk; never ailed for a
day; of moderate stature and compact shape, her udder full and glistening.
One
day, this excellent cow was alone in the forest grazing, when a tiger perceived
her, and approaching stealthily, from behind a bush, with his tail moving on
the ground, and paw uplifted, was about to strike her down.
130. The cow
apprehended the dangcr; but said, unperturbed, to the
tiger, “Oh! pause for a moment; and do me the favour of listening to my words, with understanding.”
131. The tiger then
stood, with her paw uplifted, and her terrible form fixed as in a picture,
striking wonder in the denizens of the sky (witnessing the scene).
132. A tiger roaring
with keen hunger; a milk-cow, within his grasp, asks him to pause; and he
pauses, withholding to spring, and gazes! No wonder; a word, uttered with
undaunted heart, should be able to pacify even the god of destruction on Doomsday.
133. But pausing thus,
the tiger asked, “Why do you stop me, a hungry wild animal, from my prey? What
is it you wish to say ? Say it.
134. The cow began, “A
pretty calf has been born to me, my first-born; it is not even a week since his
birth, he has not yet learnt to nibble at grass; I will go to him, and feed him
once more at my breasts, and return to you anon. Kindly permit me, and earn the
merit of a gracious act of virtue.
135. And the cow, even
while speaking thus, was reflecting in her mind:
“I
fed my child with the milk at my breasts early in the morning, and came away;
with a little romping about, he would be hungry soon, and then what would be
his fate! “
137. “Fed at my
breasts, he would stand by me with drooping ears, beside himself with joy,
while I licked his neck and dewlap. Who will take care of him hereafter? To
whom is he to turn hereafter for protection?”
139. But fearing that,
if the tiger should read her thoughts, he might hesitate to oblige her, she
steadied her mind, and without allowing her anxiety to appear in her face, the
cow said again:
140. “With a mouthful of milk, my child will be happy; your hunger will be appeased with, nothing less than, all the flesh of my body; but you know the order of priority in these duties of mine; please give me your consent, O prince among tigers–I will go and return in a trice .”
141. But the tiger
smiled in derision, and said, “What is this you say, O cow, to fool me? You say
you will go to your son and return soon; how can I believe? One who speaks
may say anything, but one who hears should use his discretion before believing
it.
142. “Even the most
miserable animal will struggle to give up life, will never willingly die.
209. “Therefore, O cow,
I know, once I let you go, and, pleased with the thought that you have escaped,
by a clever ruse, from the clutches of a tiger with his terrible nails and
teeth,
210. “You will go
strutting to your son, feed him to the full with milk, and stay on chewing the
cud. How could I expect you to return–to certain death?
212. “My hunger is
keen, my stomach is clamouring for food, I must munch
with delight and swallow your flesh even now, and appease my hunger.
What is the use of speaking so foolishly, and remonstrating with me in
this manner, at this juncture?”
213. The cow, filled with grief, at the obvious lack of understanding and consequent scepticism of the tiger, expostulated with him, “You imagine I will deceive you, and go, and will not return; and you cannot believe me; is it the proper thing for a virtuous soul? Am I a liar?”
Canto VI
9. “I will go there, if
you permit, see my son, feed him bellyful with milk, console him, fondle him,
advise him, and come back satisfied; but if you insist on feasting on me
immediately, would I object?
10. “The elders say,
there is no greater duty or virtue than to honour and
feed a guest; and now you are my guest; if I leave you here, and do not come
back, I will be guilty of a terrible sin.
11. “It is because of
my mother-love, because my child is so young, and I am to leave him on such a
long journey, and because, if I do not bid him farewell, this my regret will be
eternal,
12. “I have appealed
to you; but if you do not consent, you may do as you please; I am content and
ready to appease your hunger.”
13. At these
words, the heart of the tiger melted with pity, and he said, “O cow, seeing
your grief at the thought of your son, if I let you go, I cannot stand this
hunger, I may die; and you may delay, once you reach home; I cannot believe you
will return promptly, unless you pledge your word on solemn oath, and swear.”
18. Then the cow said
to the tiger, “Hear me then, O tiger, Why do you doubt
me and fear me needlessly?
If
I go home and do not return, O tiger, let me share the fate, of one, who turns
away from his door, the hungry guest, without feeding him,
of a fool who, out of cupidity, gives his
young daughter in marriage to an old man;
of one, who discards his wedded wife,
without any fault in her,
of one; who squanders his wealth in
extravagance, while his dependents suffer for want of food,
of the donor, who withholds the gift
donated, without delivering it to the donee promptly,
and obliges him to ask for it repeatedly.
19. When the cow
uttered the oaths, the tiger said:
“You seem to be well versed in all the codes of virtuous conduct; who can equal you in your knowledge of Dharma? I will trust you and your word; you may go and return!
20. The cow, full of
gratitude for the favour conceded, went round the
tiger worshipfully, and in absolute accord of thought and word, went home in a
graceful gait; her udder glistening, and filled with milk to the tips of the
four paps...; and bellowing sonorously, the urchins
playing in the streets getting out of her way, in haste.
21. Even as the sound
reached his ears, the calf ran towards her, responding with eagerness;
approached her, and jumping about, flourishing his tail in glee,
sucked his share of the milk with gusto.
22. As long as the
calf was sucking the milk, the mother stood, without even shifting her feet the
least; still, without any movement, with no other thought in her mind, not
caring to brush away even the fly settling on her, like a cow of stone, carved
out of a rock.
25. The calf, when his
stomach was full, left the udder of the mother, and played around her; rushing
into the street and running back; looking up with lifted head at the call of
the mother, but loitering here and there; touching the earth with the snout,
smelling the earth and trying to remember it; dodging and threatening,
springing up high into the air, when little children came in the way.
Looking
at the child indulging in such playful movements, the mother, holding back the
tears welling up in her eyes, thought:
“Alas!
Woe is mine, obliged to forsake this little child, and go to meet the cruel
fate.
26. “When the
mother-cows of the herd return to the village in the evening, and the little
calves of his age advance towards them with eagerness
and affection, running forward with them, and not finding his mother among the
cows, and realising his motherlessness,
how bitterly will the child grieve?”
28. “He does not yet
know that I am to leave him; he goes about here in innocence, and ignorance of
the truth. The tiger there, unable to withstand the pangs of hunger, perhaps,
denouncing me for a liar, may go his way; I should not delay any longer.”
Approaching
the calf, the cow said:
29. “I have given
birth to you, and suckled you these few days, being indebted to you, in past
lives, only this much; hereafter, do not think of me, rid your mind of all
attachment to me.
32. “ Do not wander
alone, far from the herd, in the pastures; return home early, before sunset;
and do not keep company with quarrelsome cows. Keep away from
bustle….”
35. “Do not approach
wells or deep streams, tempted by the attractive grass you may see there; do
not dip your snout in waters in which cruel water-beasts may be.
37. “The stem of
the lotus plant is light, the dry blade of grass is lighter, a speck of cotton
is lighter still, the dust that rises from the earth is even more light; but
the motherless child is the lightest, most despised of all; remember.”
39. As the mother-cow
thus proceeded with her admonition, the calf in his wonder asked her, “How is
it you speak in this strain, mother? Has the master, the good Brahmin, sold you
for money, or he thinks of giving you away as a present to his beloved
daughter, or contemplates gifting you away in charity, or as a votive offering
to the gods, on an auspicious occasion?”
To
these words the cow replied:
42. “The good Brahmin
is not giving me away to anyone, but I am myself going; listen!” and narrated
the entire story to the calf in detail.
43. And the calf Was
seized with fear; and fell on the earth, broken hearted, as if struck down by
lightning or pierced with a spear; and rolling on the earth, kicking up her
legs, tears streaming from the eyes and trembling, the calf bellowed piteously
and exclaimed:
44. “Mother, where will
you go? Will you forsake me and go to be swallowed by the tiger? Alas, What is
there in life for a me hereafter?”
45. As he grieved
thus, the mother caressed the calf on the head, with her snout, and
expostulated with him thus: “For whom do you grieve thus, my son, and why do
you yield to this needless sorrow?
46. “I am proceeding
through the throat of the tiger, which is a highway to heaven, with
truth-speaking as my prop, to enjoy the heavenly delights. This is a time for
jubilation for us, why do you yield to grief?
47. “To any, once
born, death is certain; instead of death in the normal course, with nothing to
one’s credit, is not a death, which brings glory, and earns merit, to be
coveted?
52. “Do not
remonstrate further; if I delay here, I will be guilty of the sin of having
uttered a lie, and deserve a place in the lower worlds, after death; why court
such a disaster? Please consent to my leaving you, and send me willingly.”
53. Thus, at last, she
consoled her son, quenching the blazing flames of his grief, with the soothing
waters of her words of wisdom; and persuading him to stay behind, contented,
she proceeded to the forest where the tiger was waiting, with speed, eagerness,
and love in her heart.
54. There the tiger
was cogitating:
55. “Could there be
anything like morality or character in a grass-eating animal? I made a fool of
myself trusting the words of the cow, and refraining from breaking her, when I
could strike her down, my gullibility adding to my misfortune.
58. “After falling in
the grip of a tiger and escaping somehow, which cow will return to the tiger
willingly? Why vain desires and expectations? I have let slip the food actually
in my mouth.
59. “If I do not
pursue her, seek an opportunity, find it, and break her neck, one of these
days, am I worth the name of a tiger?”
60. Before the tiger,
thus beside himself with hunger, excited, and nursing thoughts of revenge, the
cow appeared suddenly, having covered the distance with miraculous speed, as if
she dropped from the sky; and said, “I have kept you waiting; I wonder how you
could wait so long, suffering from such keen hunger?
61. “But I should not
wonder; without such patience, how could one earn so much merit and virtue; was
it not through your grace, I have been able to go home and console my son?
62. “Now I am ready;
there is no hesitation in my mind; it is steady and integrated; feed on me as
you please. I am offering my body to you, in good will and exceeding love; eat
and speed my soul on to the heavens.”
63. The tiger was
struck with wonder at the courage and composure of the cow, and said to
himself: “It is many years since I was born, and grew, and attained this
stature; but till now, did I ever come across any creature, with such a
steadfast mind, and so pure?”
64. “I should not injure
such a noble nature, and earn endless sin for myself; could I not find flesh
for my food elsewhere? The god who gave me this life in this birth, will
somehow provide the suitable food for me; he will not oblige me to feed on
grass! Am I going to die, if I do not feed on this cow?” and said to the cow,
65. “I admire your
truthfulness. I cannot kill you. Your virtue has saved you to-day. You may go
home and join your friends and son, to your great delight and theirs.”
66. The cow then said
67. “Do you think I am
so soft-hearted as to yield to temptation? Why do you test me thus? I have
already gifted away this body to you. Why further talk?
69. “Your body is lean
and dried up by the fire of the hunger in the stomach; and even your throat is
dry. Your senses are benumbed, your stomach is touching your back; your life is
about to leave the body. Why do you wait still? The sun is setting; having
fasted throughout the day-time, at least now, feast on me, making a supper of
my flesh and blood. And I will then proceed to heaven, happy, and feeling
grateful to you.”
70. Saying so, the cow
lifted up her head, and stretching the neck upwards, approached the tiger. But
the tiger shrank, and stepped back, as the cow approached nearer, and would not
strike.
Like
the guest, pleading lack of hunger, and excusing himself, when the host invites
to dinner and presses, the tiger refused to feed on the cow, who requested him
to oblige her; and thus they carried on the strange conversation; the gods
above witnessing the scene, were mightily pleased, and applauded the
truthfulness of the cow, and the kind heart of the tiger.