The Panchatantra (Purnabhadra's Recension of 1199 CE)/Book 2/Soft, the Weaver
SOFT, THE WEAVER
In a certain town lived a weaver. His name was Soft, and he spent his time making garments dyed in various patterns, fit for such people as princes. But for all his labors, he could not collect a bit of money beyond food and clothes. Yet he saw other weavers, who made coarse fabrics, rolling in wealth, and he said to his wife: "Look at these fellows, my dear. They make coarse stuff, but they earn heaps of money. This city does not offer me a decent living. I am going to move."
"Oh, my dear," said his wife, "it is a mistake to say that money comes to those who travel. There is a proverb:
What shall not be, will never be;
What shall be, follows painlessly:
The thing your fingers grasp, will flit,
If fate has predetermined it.
And again:
A calf can find its mother cow
Among a thousand kine:
So good or evil done, returns
And whispers: 'I am thine.'
And once again:
As shade and sunlight interbreed,
So twined are Doer and his Deed.
So stay here and mind your business."
"You are mistaken, my dear," said he. "No deed comes to fruition without effort. There is a proverb:
You cannot clap a single hand;
Nor, effortless, do what you planned.
And again:
Although, at meal-time, fate provide
A richly loaded plate,
No food will reach the mouth, unless
The hand co-operate.
And once again:
Through work, not wishes, every plan
Its full fruition reaps:
No deer walk down the lion's throat
So long as lion sleeps.
And one last quotation:
Suppose he gave the best he had,
Yet no fruition came,
'Twas fate that blocked his efforts, not
The man who was to blame.
I must go to another country." So he went to Growing City, stayed three years, and started home with savings of three hundred gold-pieces.
In mid-journey, he found himself in a great forest when the blessèd sun went to rest. So, forethoughtful for his safety, he climbed upon a stout branch of a banyan tree and dozed. In the middle of the night, as he slept, he saw two human figures whose eyes were bloodshot with fury, and heard them abusing each other.
The first of them was saying: "Come now, Doer! You know you have, in every possible way, prevented this fellow Soft from getting any capital beyond food and clothes. So you have no right ever to let him have any. Why did you give him three hundred gold-pieces?"
"Now, Deed!" said the other, "I am constrained to give the enterprising a reward in proportion to their enterprise. The final consequence is your affair. Take it from him yourself." On hearing this, Soft awoke and looked for his bag of gold.
When he found it empty, he thought: "Oh, dear! It was so much trouble to earn the money, and it went in a flash. I have had my work for nothing. I haven't a thing. How can I look my wife in the face, or my friends?" So he made up his mind to return to Growing City. There he earned five hundred gold-pieces in just one single year, and started home again by a different road.
When the sun went down, he came upon the very same banyan tree, and he thought: "Oh, oh, oh! What is fate up to—damn the brute! Here is that same fiendish old banyan tree once more." But he dozed off on a branch, and saw the same two figures.
One of them was saying: "Doer, why did you give this fellow Soft five hundred gold-pieces? Don't you know that he doesn't get a thing beyond food and clothes?"
"Friend Deed," said the other, "I am constrained to give to the enterprising. The final consequence is your affair. So why blame me?"
When poor Soft heard this, he looked for his bag and found it empty. This plunged him into the depths of gloom, and he thought: "Oh, dear! What good is life to me if I lose my money? I will just hang myself from this banyan tree and say goodbye to life."
Having made up his mind, he wove a rope of spear-grass, adjusted it as a noose to his neck, climbed out a branch, fastened it, and was about to let himself drop, when one of the figures appeared in the sky and said: "Do not be so rash, Friend Soft; I am the person who takes your money, who does not allow you one cowrie beyond food and clothes. Now go home. But, that you may not have seen me without result, ask your heart's desire."
"In that case," said Soft, "give me plenty of money." "My good fellow," said the other, "what will you do with money which you cannot enjoy or give away? For you are to have no use of it beyond food and clothes."
But Soft replied: "Even if I get no use of it, still I want it. You know the proverb:
The man of capital,
Though ugly and base-born,
Is honored by the world
For charity forlorn.
And again:
Loose they are, yet tight;
Fall, or stick, my dear?
I have watched them now
Till the fifteenth year."
"How was that?" asked the figure. And Soft told the story of