King Vikram and the Vetala

Long ago there ruled a brave and clever king named Vikramaditya. One night a holy man asked him a strange favour. High in a tree in a far-off and lonely place, the holy man said, there hung a vetala, a mischievous spirit. Would the fearless king go and bring it down?

A king keeps his word, so Vikram went. He found the tree, climbed up, and pulled the spirit down across his shoulder to carry it back. But the vetala was a tricky, talkative thing.

“We have a long walk ahead, O King,” it said, “so let me tell you a story to pass the time. But I warn you. At the end I shall ask a question. If you know the answer and keep silent, great harm will come to you. But the very instant you speak the answer aloud, I shall slip away and fly straight back to my tree. Now listen.”

And this was the vetala’s tale.

Four young scholars were travelling together through a forest. Three of them were tremendously learned. They had spent years mastering rare and difficult magic, and they never stopped reminding the fourth, who was not nearly so bookish, just how clever they were.

In the forest the four came upon a heap of old bones, bleached white in the sun. “Here is a fine chance to show what we can do!” cried the first. With his great learning he gathered the scattered bones and fitted them neatly together into a skeleton. The second, not to be outdone, clothed the skeleton in flesh and skin and fur. And the third proudly prepared to breathe life into the creature.

But the fourth, the plain and unbookish one, looked hard at the shape taking form and went pale. “Friends,” he said, “stop and look properly. Those are the bones of a lion. If you wake it, it will surely eat us all.”

The three learned scholars only laughed at him. So while they bent to their final magic, the fourth quietly climbed a tall tree and held on tight.

The third scholar breathed life into the beast. The great lion opened its eyes, sprang up, and in the blink of an eye made a meal of the three clever men who had made it. The fourth, safe up his tree, waited until it had wandered off, then climbed down and walked home alone.

“Now, King,” said the vetala. “Three of those men were far more learned than the fourth, and yet the fourth alone lived to see the morning. So tell me. Which of the four was truly the wisest?”

Vikram could not help himself. “The one who climbed the tree,” he said at once. “For real wisdom is not how much you know. It is knowing when, and whether, to use it.”

And the very instant he spoke, the vetala laughed with delight, slipped off his shoulder, and went whisking away through the dark, back to its tree. The patient king sighed, turned around, and set off to catch it all over again.