Friends Always

Adapted from *Jātaka number 27 by Cris Riedel – 

Once upon a very long time ago, there lived an elephant.  Not just any elephant, she was a royal elephant and the rajah’s favorite.  Painted red flowers spiraled up her trunk.  A tall feathered headdress and a golden medallion graced her forehead.  The rajah valued her highly and always chose her to carry the howdah, the elegant chair he rode in for parades.

She lived in royal comfort in the stone pilkana, elephant stables, right next to the palace.  Her mahout fed her tasty spiced rice, scrubbed her in the river, polished her nails.  She enjoyed all special treatments.

One day, a small shaggy dog chanced past the pilkana.  Rich smells of cinnamon, honey, cardamom greeted his nose.  He ate last three days ago, these aromas enticed him inside.   

Elephants are not tidy eaters. Clumps of rice littered the floor.  No one noticed as the dog stole in and quietly cleaned up the food.

He trotted back the next day hoping for more.  That hope was rewarded with much more rice, and the dog left that day with another full belly.

Day after day, meal after meal, the dog returned to the pilkana.  He no longer looked stray, but handsome with glossy fur and shiny eyes. The dog and the royal elephant became comfortable with each other.  Soon, the dog no longer left the pilkana at night but stayed with his friend all the time.  The elephant would swing the dog in her trunk, they splashed together in the river, never apart.

A farmer trundled his cart into town on his way to market.  Rolling past the pilkana, he noticed the fine-looking dog.

“I’d like to buy that dog,” he said to the mahout.  “How much will you sell him for?”

The dog did not belong to the mahout, but he saw a little money there for the taking.  They agreed on a price and farmer drove away with the dog.

The royal elephant hung her head in sorrow as her friend disappeared down the road. Her trunk drooped on the floor.

The next day, she did not eat her rice.

The day after that, she did not allow her mahout to wash her in the river.  And she still refused to eat her rice.

The day after that she would not emerge from her stall.

The mahout knew he must inform the rajah.

“Sire, something is wrong with your favorite elephant.  She won’t eat or come to the river to be scrubbed.”

The rajah frowned.  “Send for the animal doctor,” he commanded.

The doctor visited the elephant to look her over. “Her eyes are damp, that’s good.  Her toenails are not cracked, that’s good.  Her trunk is pink inside, that’s very good.  Her body is just fine!”  He thumped her on the flank and hurried away to give his report to the rajah.

The mahout said to himself, “but she doesn’t flap her ears or swing her trunk.  She doesn’t twitch her tail, either.  She sleeps during the day.  Something else is bothering her, I know it.”  And he went back to the rajah.

“Sire, your elephant is still not herself. The doctor doesn’t see it, but there is still something wrong.”

“Send for the wise man, then.  Surely he will discover it.”

The wise man knew animals as well, and came to see the elephant at once.  “She doesn’t eat or want to be scrubbed, her ears and trunk hang motionless, yes, I see,” he said.  He listened to her heart, looked deep into her eyes. “Hmmm, tell me, does she have a friend?”

“Well, not among the elephants.  Oh, yes, though–a dog used to come around.”

“Used to?  Where is he now?”

“I do not know.  A stranger took away him three days ago.”  Which was the truth, if not quite all of it.

The wise man took this news back to the rajah.  “I believe your elephant is not sick, but lonesome and grieving for her friend, a dog.  Her heart is broken.”

“You are right, friendship is most wonderfully powerful.  The dog must be found! Her friend restored to her!  Where is he?”

“Her mahout does not know, so you must send the message out by drum.  Whoever has the dog must return him immediately or face your royal displeasure.”

That very day the drums rumbled the message across the land for all to hear.

The farmer knew immediately which dog the drums spoke of.  He knew he must give the dog back, and let him loose at once. The instant he was set free the dog ran like a streak back to his friend.

When the elephant saw her friend racing in the door she lifted her trunk high and trumpeted her joy.  The two touched noses in greeting.  Eyes sparkling, the royal elephant lifted the dog and put him high on her head.  All the while, the dog’s eyes gleamed and his tail wagged in delight.

Well-pleased that his favorite elephant was once again content, the rajah rewarded the wise man richly for his compassion and insight.  The dog received royal recognition and trotted companionably along beside his friend in all the parades.

Elephant and dog, friends always, remained together happily for the rest of their days.

*The Jātaka tales are a rich body of literature native to India concerning the previous births of Gautama Buddha in both human and animal form, in which Buddha may appear as a king, an outcast, a god or an elephantThe Buddha character – in whatever form – often intervenes to resolve problems and bring about happiness.

A twenty-year veteran of performing stories, Cris likes best to tell the old ones.  Folktales of those who solve the problem – and save the day – with their wits.  She has performed at the National Storytelling Conference, and the Stone Soup and Lehigh Valley Festivals.  This year she celebrated twelve years of receiving grants for telling for summer reading programs in her native western New York state.   www.storiesconnect.com