Jataka Tale — The Rogue Elephant
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the reigning king in Varanasi, the Bodhisatta — a being who would beome the Buddha in a future life — was born as an elephant. He grew to be a fine comely beast and became the leader of his herd. He had a following of eighty thousand elephants and lived in the Himalayas.
At that time, a quail laid her eggs in the feeding ground of the elephants. When the eggs were ready to be hatched, the young birds broke the shells and came out. Before their wings had grown, and they were still unable to fly, the Bodhisatta with his following of eighty thousand elephants, while ranging for food, came to this spot. On seeing them, the quail thought, “This royal elephant will trample on my young and kill them. Lo! I will implore his righteous protection for the defense of my brood.” Then she raised her wings and standing there before him recited this stanza:
Elephant of sixty years,
forest lord amongst your peers,
I am but a puny bird,
Thou a leader of the herd;
With my wings I homage pay,
spare my little ones, I pray.
The great elephant said, “O quail, be not troubled. I will protect thy offspring.” And standing over the young birds, while the eighty thousand elephants passed by, he thus addressed the quail: “Behind us comes a solitary rogue elephant. He will not do my bidding. When he comes, do thou entreat him too, and so ensure the safety of thy offspring.” And with these words he made off. And the quail went forth to meet the rogue elephant, with wings uplifted, making respectful salutation, she spoke this stanza:
Roaming over hill and dale,
cherishing thy lonely way,
Thee, O forest king, I hail,
and with wings my homage pay;
I am but a wretched quail,
spare my tender brood to slay.
On hearing these words, the rogue elephant responded:
I will slay thy young ones, quail,
what can thy poor help avail;
My left foot can crush with ease,
many thousand birds like these.
And so saying, with his foot he crushed the young birds to mere atoms; and stalling over them washed them away in a flood of water, and then went off loudly trumpeting. The mother quail sat down on the bough of a tree and said, “Then be off with you and trumpet away. You shall very soon see what I will do. You little know what a difference there is between strength of body and strength of mind. Well! I will teach you this lesson.” And thus threatening him she spoke this last stanza:
Power abused is not all gain,
power is often folly’s bane;
Beast that didst my young ones kill,
I will work thee mischief still.
And so saying, shortly afterwards she did a good turn to a crow. And when the crow, who was highly pleased asked, “What can I do for you?” the quail said, “There is nothing else, sir, to be done, but I should expect you to strike with your beak and to peck out the eyes of this rogue elephant.” The crow readily assented.
And then the quail did a service to a fly, and when asked the fly asked, “What can I do for you?”, she said “When the eyes of this elephant have been pierced by the crow, then I want you to plant your eggs upon them.” The fly agreed.
And then the quail did a kindness to a frog. And when the frog asked what it was to do, she said, “When this rogue elephant becomes blind, and shall be searching for water to drink, then take your stand and utter a croak on the top of the mountain; and when he has climbed to the top, come down and croak again at the top of the cliff. This much I shall look for at your hands.” After hearing what the quail said, the frog said he would play his part.
So, one day the crow, with his beak, pecked out both eyes of the elephant. The fly dropped its eggs on them. The elephant, being eaten up with maggots, was maddened by the pain, and overcome by thirst wandered about blindly; seeking water to drink. The frog, having taken position at the top of the mountain, uttered a croak. Thought the elephant, “There must be water there,” and climbed up the mountain. Then the frog descended, and standing at the bottom croaked again. The elephant thought, “There must be water there,” and moved forward towards the precipice, and rolling over fell from the cliff and was killed.
When the quail knew that the elephant was dead, she said, “I have seen the back of my enemy,” and in a high state of delight strutted over his lifeless body.
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This story is adapted from The Jataka, translated from the Pali Canon and edited by professor E.W. Cowell; published by the Cambridge University Press in in 1895.
