As Bhishma tells it
Mahabharata, Anushasana Parva 5 · the country of Kashi · 2 min read
Yudhishthira once asked his grandfather Bhishma what kindness really looks like. Bhishma answered with an old story about Indra and a parrot.
In the country of the king of Kashi a hunter went out from his village to look for deer. He carried arrows dipped in poison. Deep in the forest he saw a herd and shot. The arrow missed the deer and went into the trunk of a great tree.
The poison was strong. It spread through the wood. The leaves fell, the fruit fell, and the tree dried where it stood.
In a hollow of that tree lived a parrot. He had lived there all his life. Now, when the tree was dying, he did not fly away. He sat in his hollow without moving, without eating, silent and sad, and he began to wither along with the tree.
Indra saw it from heaven and was astonished.
"How does a bird come by such a feeling?" he thought. "That belongs to greater creatures." Then he thought again. "Or perhaps it is not so strange. Kindness is found in all kinds of creatures."
He took the form of a Brahmin and came down to the foot of the tree.
"Best of birds," he said, "tell me. Why do you not leave this withered tree?"
The parrot bowed his head.
"Welcome, king of the gods," he said. "I know you. My long vows have given me eyes for that."
"Well done," said Indra, and he was delighted. But he went on with his question all the same.
"This tree is dead. It has no leaves and no fruit. It is no home for a bird. The forest is wide, and it is full of fine trees with shady hollows. You are wise. Leave this old dead thing, which is no use to anyone now."
The parrot sighed deeply.
"Lord of Shachi," he said, "I was born in this tree. Whatever good there is in me, I learned here. When I was small and had enemies, this tree hid me. Why do you ask me, out of kindness, to give up the rule of my life? To care for the one who cared for you is the mark of a good creature. When the tree could give, it kept me alive. How can I leave it now?"
Indra was moved.
"I am pleased with you," he said. "Ask me for a gift."
The parrot could have asked for anything: for long life, for a place in heaven, for a better tree. He asked for one thing.
"Let this tree live again."
Indra sprinkled the tree with nectar. The sap rose and the leaves came back, and the tree stood grander than it had been before the arrow struck it.
The parrot lived out his days in his hollow. When his life ended, Bhishma said, he went to live in Indra's own heaven, and it was that one act of kindness that took him there.
As the Jataka tells it: Sakka and the fig tree
Buddhist · Mahasuka Jataka, on the banks of the Ganges · 2 min read
The Buddhists tell this story too. In their books Indra is called Sakka, and the parrot is the Buddha himself in an earlier life.
Thousands of parrots lived in a grove of fig trees beside the Ganges, in the Himalaya country. Their king lived in one tree. When its fruit was finished he did not move on. He ate the shoots, then the leaves, then the bark, drank from the river and was content.
His contentment was so great that Sakka's seat in heaven trembled. Sakka looked down, saw the cause and decided to test him. By his own power he withered the tree. It became a bare stump full of holes, and when the wind blew, dust came out of the holes.
The parrot ate the dust, drank the river water and stayed where he was, in the wind and the sun.
Sakka came down as a royal goose, with his queen Suja beside him, and perched on a branch nearby.
"Where trees are full of fruit, birds gather," said the goose. "When the trees wither, the birds fly off. Go, red-beak. Why sit dreaming on a dead stump?"
"This tree has been my friend since I was young," said the parrot. "A friend does not stop being a friend in bad times. I want to live, goose. But I have not the heart to leave it."
Sakka was delighted.
"Choose a gift," he said. "Whatever you most want."
"Then let my tree live again, with branches and sweet fruit."
Sakka put off the goose's shape and stood there as himself. He took up water from the Ganges in his hand and dashed it against the stump. The tree rose at once, full of branches and heavy with honey-sweet figs.
"May Sakka be as happy as I am today," said the parrot.