# The Panchatantra (Purnabhadra's Recension of 1199 CE)/Book 2/Hang-Ball and Greedy

HANG-BALL AND GREEDY
In a certain town lived a bull named Hang-Ball. From excess of male vigor he abandoned the herd, tore the river-banks with his horns, browsed at will on emerald-tipped grasses, and went wild in the forest.
In that forest lived a jackal named Greedy. One day he sprawled at ease with his wife on a sandy riverbank. At that moment the bull Hang-Ball came down to the same stretch of sand for a drink. And the she-jackal said to her husband when she saw the hanging testicles: "Look, my dear! See how two lumps of flesh hang from that bull. They will fall in a moment, or a few hours at most. So you must follow him, please."
"My dear," said the jackal, "nobody knows. Perhaps they will fall some day, perhaps not. Why send me on a fool's errand? I would rather stay here with you and eat the mice that come to water. They follow this trail. And if I should follow him, somebody else ​would come here and occupy the spot. Better not do it. You know the proverb:
If any leave a certain thing, For things uncertain wandering, The sure that was, is sure no more; What is not sure, was lost before."
"Come," said she, "you are a coward, satisfied with any little thing. You are quite wrong. We always ought to be energetic, a man especially. There is a saying:
Depend on energetic might, And banish indolence's blight, Let enterprise and prudence kiss— All luck is yours—it cannot miss.
And again:
Let none, content with fate's negation, Sink into lazy self-prostration: No oil of sesame, unless The seeds of sesame you press.
"And as for your saying: 'Perhaps they will fall, perhaps not,' that, too, is wrong. Remember the proverb:
Mere bulk is naught. The resolute Have honor sure: God brings the plover water. Who Dare call him poor?
"Besides, I am dreadfully tired of mouse-flesh, and these two lumps of meat are plainly on the point of falling. You must not refuse me."
So when he had listened to this, he left the spot ​where mice were to be caught and followed Hang-Ball. Well, there is wisdom in the saying:
Only while he does not hear Woman's whisper in his ear, Goading him against his will, Is a man his master still.
And again:
In action, should-not is as should, In motion, cannot is as can, In eating, ought-not is as ought, When woman's whispers drive a man.
So he spent much time wandering with his wife after the bull. But they did not fall. At last in the fifteenth year, in utter gloom he said to his wife:
"Loose they are, yet tight; Fall, or stick, my dear? I have watched them now Till the fifteenth year.
Let us draw the conclusion that they will not fall in the future either, and return to the old mouse-trail."
"And that is why I say:
Loose they are, yet tight, . . . .
and the rest of it.
"Now anybody as rich as that becomes an object of desire. So give me plenty of money."
"If things stand so," said the figure, "go once more to Growing City. There dwell two sons of merchants; their names are Penny-Hide and Penny-Fling. When you have observed their conduct, you may ask for ​ yourself the nature of one or the other." With this he vanished, and Soft returned to Growing City, his mind in a maze.
At evening twilight, he wearily inquired for Penny-Hide's residence, learned with some trouble where it was, and called there. In spite of scoldings from the wife, the children, and others, he made his way into the courtyard and sat down. Then at dinner-time he received food but no kind word, and went to sleep there.
During the night he saw the same two human figures holding council. One of them was saying: "Come now, Doer! Why are you making extra expense for this fellow Penny-Hide, in providing Soft with a meal?"
And the second replied: "Friend Deed, it is no fault of mine. I am constrained to attend to acquisition and expenditure. But their final consequence is your affair." Now when the poor fellow awoke, he had to fast because Penny-Hide was in the second day of a cholera attack.
So Soft left that house and went to Penny-Fling's, who showed him much honor, greeting him cordially and providing food, garments, and the like. In his house Soft rested in a comfortable bed, and in the night he saw the same two figures taking counsel together. One of them was saying: "Come now, Doer! This fellow Penny-Fling is at no little expense today, entertaining Soft. So how will he pay that debt? He ​has drawn everything from the bank." "Friend Deed," said the second, "I had to do it. The final consequence is your affair." Now at dawn a policeman came with money, a favor from the king, and gave it all to Penny-Fling.
When he saw this, Soft thought: "This Penny-Fling person, even without any capital, is a better kind of thing than that scaly old Penny-Hide. The proverb is right:
The Scriptures' fruit is pious homes; Right conduct, that of learnèd tomes; Wives fructify in joy and son; And money's fruit is gifts and fun.
"So may the blessèd Lord of All make me a person whose money goes in gifts and fun. I see no good in Penny-Hiding."
So the Lord of All took him at his word, making him that kind of person.
"And that is why I say:
Your wealth will flee, If fate decree, . . . .
and the rest of it. Therefore, my dear friend Gold, recognize the facts and feel no uneasiness in the department of finance. You know the proverb:
A lofty soul, in days of power, Is tender as a lotus-flower But, meeting misadventure's shock Grows hard as Himalayan rock.
The goal desiderating powers at strain, Is reached by listless sleepers with no pain: Though panting life go struggling ceaselessly, The to-be is, is not the not-to-be.
And once again:
Why think and think without relief? Why weight the mind with aimless grief? All finds fulfilment, soon or late, If written on the brow by fate.
Or put it this way:
From distant island, central sea, Or far horizon's brink, Fate brings and links its wilful whims, Before a man can wink.
Or this way:
Fate links the unlinked, unlinks links; It links the things that no man thinks.
All life, unwilling, faces its Unbidden doom— Some ill, no doubt, but blessings, too— Why sink in gloom?
And yet again:
Courageous, cultivated minds Their fate would supervise; But linked causation masters them, And makes it otherwise.
And He who made the parrots green, But made the king-swans white, And peacocks particolored, He Will order us aright.
Within a basket tucked away In slow starvation's grim decay, A broken-hearted serpent lay.
But see the cheerful mouse that gnaws A hole, and tumbles in his jaws At night—new hope's unbidden cause!
Now see the serpent, sleek with meat, Who hastens through the hole, to beat From quarters cramped, a glad retreat!
So fuss and worry will not do; For fate is somehow muddling through To good or bad for me and you.
"Adopt this point of view, and give some attention to ultimate salvation. There is a verse about that, too:
Let some small rite—vow, fasting, self-control— Be daily practiced with a quiet soul; For fate chips daily from our days to be, Though panting life go struggling ceaselessly.
"This being so, contentment is always wise:
Contentment's nectar-draught supplies The quiet joy that satisfies; How can the money-maddened know That joy in bustlings to and fro?
And once again:
No penance like forbearance; No pleasure like content; No friend like gifts; no virtue Like hearts on mercy bent.
Now when Swift had listened to these observations of Slow, set off as they were with the inner truth of numerous authoritative works, his face blossomed, his heart was satisfied, and he said: "Slow, my dear fellow, you are good. Your virtue is something to rely on. For in the act of offering this comfort to Gold, you have brought perfect satisfaction to my heart. As the proverb puts it:
They taste the best of bliss, are good, And find life's truest ends, Who, glad and gladdening, rejoice In love, with loving friends.
And again:
The richest man is penniless, A living naught, a vain distress, If greed, true wealth destroying, bends His soul to lack the charm of friends.
"Now by means of this first-class advice you have rescued our poor friend, sunk in the sea of wretchedness. After all, it is quite in the nature of things:
The good forever save the good, When dull misfortunes clog: For only elephants can drag Their comrades from the bog.
And again:
No man deserves the praise of men, Nor meets the vow of virtue, when
The poor or suppliant from him go Averted, sunk in hopeless woe.
Yes, there is wisdom in this:
What manhood is there, making not The sad, secure? What wealth is that, availing not To aid the poor? What sort of act, performed without Good consequence? What kind of life, that glory feels To be offense?"
While they were conversing thus, a deer named Spot arrived, panting with thirst and quivering for fear of hunters' arrows. On seeing him approach, Swift flew into a tree, Gold crept into a grass-clump, and Slow sought an asylum in the water. But Spot stood near the bank, trembling for his safety.
Then Swift flew into the air, inspected the terrain for the distance of a league, then settled on his tree again, and called to Slow: "Slow, my dear fellow, come out, come out! No evil threatens you here. I have inspected the forest minutely. There is only this deer who has come to the lake for water." Thereupon all three gathered as before.
Then, out of friendly feeling toward a guest, Slow said to the deer: "My good fellow, drink and bathe. Our water is of excellent quality, and cool." And Spot thought, after meditating on this invitation: "Not the slightest danger threatens me from these. And ​this because a turtle has no capacity for mischief when out of water, while mouse and crow feed only on what is dead. So I will make one of their company." And he joined them.
Then Slow bade him welcome and did the honors, saying: "I trust your circumstances are happy. Pray tell us how you happened into this neck of the woods." And Spot replied: "I am weary of a life without love. I have been hard pressed on every side by mounted grooms and dogs and hunters. But fear lent speed, I left them all behind, and came here to drink. Now I am desirous of your friendship."
Upon hearing this, Slow said: "We are little of body. It is unnatural for you to make friends with us. One should make friends with those capable of returning favors." But Spot rejoined:
"Better with the learnèd dwell, Even though it be in hell Than with vulgar spirits roam Palaces that gods call home.
"And since you know that one little of body may be of no little consequence, why these self-depreciatory remarks? Yet after all, such speech is becoming to the excellent. I therefore insist that you make friends with me today. There is a good old saying:
Make friends, make friends, however strong Or weak they be: Recall the captive elephants That mice set free."
"How was that?" asked Slow. And Spot told the story of
THE MICE THAT SET ELEPHANTS FREE