Panchatantra Fables

The Deceptive Cat

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A sparrow returned to find her burrow claimed by a rabbit. Distraught, she sought advice from her friend perched high in the tree. But the friend only reminded her: no bird builds its nest at the roots. Now, her poor choice had left her vulnerable.

Unable to agree, the sparrow and the rabbit searched for a wise judge. Nearby, a wild cat prowled—hungry, but clever. When he overheard their quarrel, he stood upright, eyes closed, clutching kusa grass like a holy sage. His presence radiated calm, even sanctity.

Hesitant but hopeful, the two approached. The sparrow recounted her tale from a safe distance. “Come closer, sister,” purred the cat, “I am deaf. Fear not, for I have renounced violence—I harm not even the mosquitoes that bite me.”

Reassured, the sparrow and rabbit sat beside him to explain further. In a flash, the saintly mask slipped. The cat leapt, and they discovered too late that their true conflict was not with each other but with the predator cloaked in virtue.

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Moral: Beware those who proclaim goodness. True virtue is lived, not declared.

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The Crab and the Crane

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An old crane, once swift and strong, now stood by the lake hollow with hunger. No fish came within reach, and in despair he wailed. A kind crab, pitying him, asked, “Uncle, why do you weep?” The crane sighed, “I fast unto death. Yet my sorrow is not for me but for you. A drought is coming—this lake will vanish, and you will perish.” Fear rippled through the waters. The crane whispered, “I alone can save you. Ride upon my back, and I shall carry you to a vast lake that never dries.” 

One by one, the creatures trusted him. Yet instead of rescue, he carried them to a rock, where he crushed and devoured them, returning with sweet lies of their happy new life. 

At last the crab asked for his turn. As they flew, he saw what fate awaited him. When the crane sought to hurl him down, the crab’s claws closed around his throat and did not let go until the deceiver lay dead.

Dragging the body back, the crab revealed the truth. The lake endured, and the creatures, though mourning their lost kin, lived on in safety.

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Moral: Even the smallest can triumph the mighty with wit.

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The Braying Tiger

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In a village on the edge of the forest lived a poor washerman and his weary donkey, whose back was laden by heavy loads by day and stood hollow-ribbed by night. His master, unable to spare enough fodder, despaired of keeping him alive.

One evening, the forest revealed a strange fortune: a tiger, dead upon the earth, its stripes still burning with menace. The washerman, eyes glinting with cunning, thought to himself, “This skin shall feed us both.”

That night, the donkey wore the stripes of the jungle’s lord. Released into the neighbor’s fields, he grazed beneath the moonlight, each mouthful stolen under the cloak of fear. The farmers, spying the dark shape among their crops, froze—none dared challenge the prowling “tiger.”

So the trick ripened into habit. Night after night, the donkey feasted, and by day he dreamed of sweet grasses. His master’s purse grew heavier, his beast rounder. In their small world, deception blossomed like a secret garden.

But fate is a patient hunter. One moonlit night, as the donkey chewed in contentment, a sound drifted across the still air—the call of a female donkey, plaintive and familiar. Forgetting the stripes upon his back, he answered with a jubilant bray that shattered the night’s silence.

In that instant, terror melted into laughter. The farmers, emboldened, rushed forward. No tiger’s roar, only a donkey’s foolish cry. They beat the creature till his borrowed stripes lay sullied in the dust.

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Moral: Even in another’s skin, the heart speaks its own truth.

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The Lion’s Guest

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In the heart of a golden jungle, King Madotkat the lion walked with his retinue — the jackal, the crow, the leopard. One morning, they came across a stranger: a weary camel, lost and alone. The crow urged, “Let us feast upon him.” But the lion, noble and firm, declared, “He is our guest. A guest is sacred.”

So the camel remained, content beneath the canopy of trees.

But fate soon turned. The lion was gravely wounded in battle with a wild elephant. Hunger gnawed at his followers. The jackal, sly and restless, whispered, “What if the guest offers himself? Then no sin falls upon us.” The famished  lion agreed.

Thus began a cruel theatre. The crow stepped forward: “Take me, O King.” The jackal interjected: “Too little flesh. Take me instead.” Each animal offered itself, their words a rehearsed deceit. The camel, touched by this false devotion, rose and spoke with innocence: “O King of the jungle, I offer myself to you. May this sacrifice be worthy.”

In an instant, the lion leapt, and the camel was slain. The jungle feasted.

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Moral: Beware the company of the cunning — even honeyed words may hide poison.

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The Moon’s Reflection

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One summer, the land burned dry and rivers turned to dust. Parched and desperate, a herd of elephants thundered toward a shining lake. With each heavy step, joy filled their hearts—but terror seized the hares who lived along its banks. Nests were crushed, burrows collapsed, families scattered.

In their grief, the hares gathered. Some wailed, some pleaded for escape, but one—small, calm, and clear of mind—spoke above the cries: “Strength will not shield us. Only wisdom can.”

The little hare went alone to face the mighty king of elephants. Standing firm before his towering shadow, he declared, “Stop! This is no common lake. It belongs to the moon god himself. In trampling his children, you invite his fury.”

The elephant king faltered. “If this is true, how may we seek forgiveness?”

The hare led him to the still waters. There, the full moon floated in radiant silence. “Behold,” said the hare, “the god in meditation. Disturb him again, and doom will follow.”

Humbled, the elephant lowered his head. With reverence, the herd withdrew, never to return. And so the hares, spared by wit, lived in peace beneath the moon’s gentle glow.

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Moral: The meek endure when wisdom bends the mighty.

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The Turtle and the Swans

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By the edge of a quiet pond, a turtle and two swans lived as companions. Their days passed in ease, until the skies withheld their rain. Slowly, the pond shrank into cracked earth and brittle reeds. The swans fretted, but the turtle, thoughtful and steady, said, “Let us not despair. Bring me a sturdy stick. Hold its ends in your beaks, and I shall cling to the middle with my mouth. Together, we can reach a lake that never runs dry.”

The swans agreed, but warned him gently, “You must keep silent in the air. Not a word, not a sound.” The turtle nodded, and soon they lifted him skyward. Never had he seen such marvels—fields unfurling like green silk, rivers flashing like silver serpents, villages gleaming like scattered jewels. His heart brimmed with wonder.

Below, people gathered in astonishment, pointing, laughing, calling to one another. The turtle’s pride surged; he burned to tell them the truth—that it was his clever plan. But as he opened his mouth, the stick slipped away.

Down he plunged, while the swans wheeled above in grief. For pride and unguarded words can undo even the wisest of creatures.

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Moral: Wisdom often lies in knowing when to stay silent.

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The Monkey’s Clever Heart

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In a sun-dappled forest, a playful monkey lived atop the largest mango tree, feasting on its sweet fruits and sharing them with friends. One day, he spotted a tired crocodile resting beneath his tree. Welcoming the stranger, the monkey offered the juiciest mangoes, which the crocodile delightedly carried home to his mother.

When she tasted the mangoes, her eyes gleamed with greed. “If the fruits are so sweet, imagine the sweetness of the monkey’s heart,” she demanded. The crocodile, torn between loyalty and fear, reluctantly devised a plan to bring the monkey to her.

As they reached the river’s center, the monkey’s eyes widened at the vast waters. Sensing his fear, the crocodile confessed the truth. The monkey chuckled. “You need not worry. My heart is always safe in the hollow of my tree. Only in dire need do I carry it with me.”

Panicked, the crocodile turned back. The monkey leapt to the topmost branch, safe once more, and called down, “Friendship works one way—trust. Break it, and even my heart can’t help you now.”

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Moral: True friendship thrives on trust, not fear or deceit.

The Hare’s Quick Wit

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The jungle had grown quiet with fear. Every creature trembled at the thought of the lion king, who hunted at will. At last, the animals struck a desperate bargain—each day, one among them would go willingly to his den. In return, the lion swore to spare the rest. So it went, until the lot fell upon a small hare.

The hare, reluctant to surrender his young life, walked slowly, thinking hard. By the time he reached, the lion was furious at the delay, his golden eyes blazing. Just as he leapt, the hare cried, “Great king, I am late only because another lion stopped me. He claimed to be the true ruler and devoured the others. He waits now, daring you to prove your strength.”

At once, the lion’s pride flared. Another king? Impossible. The hare led him to a deep, dark well. “Here is his den,” the hare whispered. Peering in, the lion saw a face staring back, fierce and unyielding. He roared, and the roar thundered back twice as strong. Believing his rival challenged him, the lion leapt.

The water swallowed him whole. And with that, the jungle knew peace again—delivered by the wit of the smallest creature.

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Moral: The sharpness of the mind outlasts the strength of the body.

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