[2371] "Assuredly shall I tell it to you, even as one who is skilled would tell it;
for the wise here in the world praise the speaker of truth.
Wandering alone in search of cattle, bewildered, I strayed deep into the forest,
into a wilderness, a barren, desolate waste, haunted by many an elephant,
a woodland ranged by savage beasts; there was I utterly lost,
and there I wandered seven days, beset by hunger and thirst.
There, famished, I saw a tiṇḍuka tree standing upon a precipitous spot,
overhanging the abyss, laden with ripened fruit.
I ate those the wind had brought down, and they delighted me exceedingly;
unsated, I climbed the tree, thinking, 'There shall I stay, lodged aloft.'
One had I eaten, and a second did I crave,
when that branch snapped, as though severed by an axe.
And I, together with the branches, feet upward and head below,
plunged into a mountain chasm where was no foothold and nothing to grasp.
And because the water was deep, I was not dashed to pieces;
there I lay, bereft of all joy, no less than ten nights.
Then there came to that place a monkey — cow-tailed, a ranger of the mountain clefts —
faring from branch to branch, eating the fruit of the trees;
and seeing me gaunt and sallow, he was moved to compassion for me:
'Ho there! Who may this be, so afflicted here with suffering (dukkha)?
A human are you, or a non-human? Declare yourself to me.'
Raising my joined palms in salutation to him, I spoke this word:
'A human am I, fallen upon ruin; for me there is no way out of here.
Therefore I tell you — blessings be upon you! — and do you be my refuge.'
Taking up a heavy stone, the monkey ranged about upon the mountain;
and having fastened a cord to the stone, that bull among monkeys said this:
'Come, mount upon my back and clasp my neck with your arms;
I shall lift you up out of the mountain chasm with all speed.'
Having heard that word of his — of the glorious lord of monkeys —
I mounted upon that wise one's back and clasped his neck with my arms.
Then that monkey, mighty in vigor and strong, bore me up from there,
though sore-pressed and in hardship, swiftly out of the mountain chasm.
And having drawn me up, wearied, that bull among monkeys said this:
'Come, friend, keep guard over me; I shall sleep but a little while.
Lions, tigers, and leopards, bears, wolves, and hyenas —
these might do me harm while I am heedless; seeing them, drive them off.'
Thus, with me to guard him, he slept a little while;
and then, unwisely, I conceived an evil notion (diṭṭhi):
'This creature is food for human beings, even as other wild beasts of the forest;
what if I, in my hunger, were to slay this monkey and eat?
And when I have eaten I shall set forth, taking the flesh as provender;
I shall win across the wilderness, and it shall be provision for my road.'
Then, taking up a stone, I brought it down upon his head;
but the blow of one faint for want of food proved feeble.
And that monkey, springing up in an instant, smeared with blood,
weeping, with eyes brimful of tears, gazed upon me:
'Let not my master so deal with me — blessings upon you! —
and yet you — you of all men! — have wrought such a deed;
it was you, long-lived sir, who ought to have warded others off!
Ah, alas, O man, doer of so dire a deed!
From such a rugged and impassable abyss were you drawn up by me;
brought back, as it were, from the world beyond, you deemed me one fit for treachery.
That was evil conceived by an evil-natured one — evil devised by an evil man.
May you not, O you who stand in unrighteousness, come to feel bitter feeling (vedanā)!
And may the fruit of evil deeds not slay you, as its own fruit slays the bamboo!
In you there is no trust for me, O evil-natured, unrestrained one.
Come — walk behind me, keeping within sight, close at hand.
Freed are you from the clutch of savage beasts; you have reached the tracks of men.
There lies the road, O unrighteous one: go by it at your ease.'
So saying, the ranger of the mountains washed the blood from his head,
wiped away his tears, and thereupon ascended the mountain.
And I, as one accursed by him, racked with burning fever,
my body all aflame, went down to drink water.
As though seething with fire, the pool, smeared over with blood,
took on for me wholly the semblance of pus and blood.
As many drops of water as fell upon my body,
so many boils arose upon me, each like the half of a beluva fruit.
Burst open, they ran with putrid matter, pus and blood;
and by whatever way I go, through villages and market towns,
women and men, staves in hand, ward me off —
me, steeped in putrid stench: 'Come no nearer this side!'
Such is this suffering that now for seven years is mine:
I reap my own deed (kamma), my own ill deed of old.
This I say to you — blessings upon you! — as many as are here assembled:
deal not treacherously with friends, for the betrayer of friends is evil.
Whoso here deals treacherously with friends becomes a leper, scabrous of skin;
and at the breaking up of the body the betrayer of friends arises in hell (niraya)."
The Mahākapi Jātaka, the sixth.
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7. THE DAKARAKKHASA JĀTAKA
English translation from the Pali (Siam Raṭṭha edition) — under review, not for citation.