Monkey Tales The world of monkeys is full of entertaining tales. Brave or wily, quick- thinking or unthinking each monkey in these tales offers a valuable lesson—a leader who risks his own life to save his band; another who outwits a demon; a third, whose presence of mind helps him fool a greedy crocodile; finally, an eager but foolish monkey who tries his hand at being the king’s gardener for a day. The Jataka Tales are a treasure trove of 550 animal stories that have captivated the folklore of Asia. Well-known and beloved of generations of children, this collection of four stories from the Jataka, presented in a beautifully illustrated and designed edition, is bound to enchant your child and you.
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A group of monkeys were quite happy, living by themselves in the forest. Part of the happiness stemmed from the fact that they had not yet encountered humans. In the forest there was a mango grove by the bank of a river, and the monkeys lived off the delicious fruit they plucked from the trees. Then, one day, humans came and started to live on the edge of the forest. When the king of the monkeys found out he grew worried. While his subjects were gathering the fruit for their midday meal, he called them to him. He stood there looking pensive as the monkeys sat in a circle around their king. “What is it master?” one of the monkeys asked him. The voice snapped the king out of his reverie. “My friends,” he said to them, “For many years we have lived happily off the fruit of this mango tree. But I see trouble in the very near future.” “Why master?” one of the younger monkeys asked. The king heaved a sigh. “It was too good to last,” he said, almost to himself. Aloud, he said to them, “Humans have come to live at the edge of the forest.”
“So?” asked another monkey. “What has that to do with us? They live at the edge of the forest, we live in it.” The king shook his head. “You do not understand. Humans have never tasted the mango fruit. Once they do they will find out how delicious it is and they will strip the trees bare and there will be nothing left for us to eat.” Worried by the king’s words, the monkeys were frightened. “What shall we do?” they clamoured. “What will we eat? Without the fruit, we will die.” The king held his hands up for silence and the chatter died down. “My friends,” the king said, looking at the worried faces around him. “We must make sure the humans never taste the fruit.”
“But how do we do that?” one of the monkeys wanted to know. “The humans will come into the forest and find the tree.” “No,” said the king, “The humans have no reason to come this deep in the forest.” “Then we have nothing to worry about.” The monkeys were relieved. “I wish it were so,” the king said. “But there is one way they can still get their hands on the fruit. The tree stands by the bank of the river. If the fruits from the overhanging branches falls into the river, it will be carried to where the people live.” The monkeys all looked gloomy again.
“We must, therefore, prevent that from happening. Climb the tree and pluck every bud from the branches that spread out over the river. And make sure as you pluck them, not a single fruit falls into the waters below.� The monkeys happily set about their task, chattering among themselves as they hung from the branches, plucking the fruit that hung above the river. But in spite of all the care they took, one fruit fell, unnoticed, with a tiny splash. The rushing waters quickly carried it downstream to where humans had built their settlement.
A fisherman had cast his net into the river, there were many flashes of silver as the fish that were caught tried to get away. The fisherman seeing his net so full of fish, started drawing it in. When he dragged the net to shore, imagine his surprise when among his silvery harvest, he found an odd-shaped, orange-coloured fruit. He showed it to his wife. “Look at what I found in my net,” he said. “A strange fruit. It looked delicious.” He sniffed it. “It smells delicious too.” The wife took it from him and examined it. “I have never seen a fruit like that before. I wonder what is it? I think you should take it to the king. Perhaps he will know.” “Good idea,” he said and taking his wife’s advice, set off for the king’s court along with a friend.
It was late night when they finally reached the court and when they got there, the palace gates were shut. They showed the guards the fruit and told them they needed to show it to the king urgently. The guards weren’t too sure whether they should disturb the king. But the fisherman was insistent, telling them the fruit would spoil and it would be the guards’ fault and they would have to answer to the king. Worried about what the king might do if the fruit spoiled, the guards finally let the two friends in.
The king was ready for bed but was intrigued by the fruit the fisherman handed over to him. He examined the fruit. The smell was tempting but he was a little worried about tasting it. “Send for the forester,” he said, “Perhaps he can tell us what this is.” When the forester came, he felt the fruit and said, “This is a rare fruit, sire. It is called the mango.” “Is it poisonous?” the king queried. “Not at all, sire. In fact it is very tasty.” Assured by the forester, the king sank his teeth into the fruit. The fisherman looked on as the king chewed the fruit. His face was a picture of ecstasy. “Delicious!” the king said, the juice dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. “I have never before tasted anything quite like it!” And without another word he polished off the rest of the mango. “Tell me, my good man, how did you come by this fruit?” the king asked, licking his fingers clean. “I found it among my fish when I pulled in my net, your majesty,” the fisherman replied. “Hmm! That means the fruit fell into the river somewhere upstream and floated down to where the fisherman got it.” The king turned to his minister, “Tomorrow morning we sail upriver in search of this mango fruit. Tell them to make the boats ready.”
Early the next morning, the boats set of in search of what we know today as the king of fruits. They had gone just a few miles upstream, when the forester spotted the mango tree leaning out over the river. He pointed it out to the king. Before long, the men were ashore and looking in wonderment at the ripe golden fruit hanging heavy on the branches. “Tell everyone to eat as much as they can,” the king commanded. Then he called his minister. “We shall stay here for a day or two. Make the arrangements.” The minister bowed and went to do as his king wished.
That night, after the men had laid down to sleep beneath the open skies, the monkeys came to see what the men were up to. The king heard the leaves rustling as the monkeys moved about. “What is that noise?” the king asked. “Just some monkeys scampering among the leaves, sire,” the minister replied. The king’s mouth began to water. “In the morning, tell the archers to shoot as many monkeys as they can. We shall feast on monkey flesh and mangoes tomorrow.” And thinking of the feast to come, he fell asleep.
The next morning, as per the kings orders, the archers began to fire their arrows into the trees. The monkeys were frightened by the missiles that flew at them. “Master we’re trapped!” one of the smaller monkeys cried. “We’re going to die! We’re all going to die!” a female monkey shrieked, clutching her tiny baby to her bosom.
“Quiet!” the monkey king cautioned. “I will think of something. But first everyone get to the tree near the river.” The monkeys scampered to obey the order. “Now, do exactly as I tell you.” The king got hold of a thick creeper that hung from the tree. He tied one end to the branch and the other end around his waist. He tested the creeper to see that it was firmly tied and would take his weight. “Now I will swing across the river to the fig tree on the other side. I will tie the creeper to the tree and then you can all come across.”
Saying that, he swung to the tree on the other side. But he had miscalculated the distance. He grabbed the branch but the vine was too short for him to tie it to the branch. So he held on to the branch with both hands and bridged the gap. “Come on,” he called out to his followers. “I’m holding on to the branch, all of you can cross over me safely.” The monkeys rushed to obey. Seeing what was happening, the king told his archers to stop firing.” The monkey king must really love his subjects,” the king told his minister. And together they watched the monkey king’s brave efforts to save his subjects. One by one the monkeys crossed along the vine; then stepped on the back of their leader and jumped on to the branch in safety.
Finally, there was only one monkey left. He was a wicked monkey who had never liked his king. “Here’s my chance to take my revenge,” he thought. “I shall go over him and push him down.” Meanwhile, the monkey king was tiring fast. “Come on, please hurry, I can’t hold on much longer. My arms are tired.” “Coming,” called the wicked monkey and quickly crossed the river. But when he got to his king, instead of climbing over him like the other monkeys, he jumped high in the air and landed with all the force he could muster, on the monkey king’s back. The king’s tired arms gave way and he fell. The vine snapped and the poor monkey king went crashing down, landing on a rock at the river’s edge, breaking his jaw. Then he rolled off it and fell to the ground, lying there unable to move.
From the opposite bank, the king and his men watched as the monkey king fell and then lay unmoving where he had fallen. The king went to his boat. “Come on,” he ordered his men. “Let us go and help the poor fellow.” When they got to the other side, the king went and raised the monkey king’s head and cradled it in his lap. “You saved all the monkeys at the cost of your own life.” “It does not matter,” the monkey king replied, grimacing with pain. The broken jaw made talking difficult. “Let me take you to my palace. The royal doctor can look after you.” “No!” the monkey king said. “I know my time is up. Leave me here and let my subjects live in peace.” “You are truly a noble soul,” the king said, tears in his eyes. “You must be in a lot of pain.” “The pain is of no consequence, as long as my subjects are safe.” Saying this the monkey king gave a shudder and died. The king gently laid him down. He turned to his people. “Not one arrow will be fired at the subjects of this brave king. Come! It is time for us to go home.” And the men went to their boats and set sail for home, leaving the monkeys to attend to their dead king.
A long time ago, a band of monkeys came and settled on the outskirts of a forest. Their leader, who knew the place well, called her followers for a meeting. “There is something important I have to say and I want you all to pay proper attention. You have to be careful about two things in the forest. Some of the trees here have very tempting fruits but they are poisonous. And one of the lakes out here is haunted by a demon. So you must not drink water from any lake or eat any fruit without checking with me first.� Her followers all agreed to be careful and do what their leader said.
One day, while searching for firewood, some of the monkeys wandered deep into the forest. After a while, one of the children turned to his mother. “I’m thirsty, mum.” The mother looked around. Nearby she saw a lake, its water shimmering temptingly under the sun. “Go on,” she told her child, “there’s water there. Go and have a drink.” The little fellow ran off. “Wait !” one of the other monkeys called out. “Don’t go near the water. Don’t you remember what our leader said?”
“Oh dear,” the mother said, “I’d forgotten, thanks for reminding me. We’ll wait till our leader gets here, then you can have a drink.” A little later, the leader arrived. “What’s the matter? Why are you all waiting here?” The others told her about the little one being thirsty. “Wait here,” she said, “I’ll check the lake out.”
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Text © Rohinton Mody
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Illustrations and design by Akhila Krishnan / Mapin Design Studio
Mapin Publishing
Edited by Diana Romany / Mapin Editorial
in association with
Titles handwritten by Ruchita Madhok
HarperCollins Children’s Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers India
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CHILDREN’S BOOK
Monkey Tales Rohinton Mody with illustrations by Akhila Krishnan 56 pages, 41 illustrations 8.5 x 11” (216 x 280 mm) hc & pb ISBN: 978-81-89995-20-1 (Mapin), pb ISBN: 978-1-935677-02-4 (Grantha), pb ₹195 | $9.50 | £6 2008 • World rights
and international awards for his work in advertising. His previous publications include The Adventures of Birbal.
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