12.117
Bhīṣma said.
Here too, they narrate this ancient story, which is always cited in the world as an example of the conduct of good people.
What I heard in the forest of austerities, similar to this very meaning, was what the best of sages spoke to Rāma, the son of Jamadagni.
In a vast forest, in a certain place uninhabited by humans, there lived a sage who sustained himself on roots and fruits, disciplined and with his senses under control.
He who holds initiation and self-restraint as supreme, is peaceful, values self-study above all, is pure, whose self is purified by fasting, and who is always steadfast on the path of righteousness.
When they see the good nature of the wise man sitting there, all the nearby creatures of the forest gather around him.
Lions, tigers, sharabhas, intoxicated great elephants, panthers, rhinoceroses, bears, and other fearsome-looking creatures.
They all, who give pleasing answers, become eaters of blood. They are like disciples of that sage, submissive and doers of what is dear to him.
After greeting you pleasantly, all departed as they had come. However, one domestic animal—the dog—did not leave the great sage.
He is devoted, attached, always emaciated by fasting, weak, living on heaps of fruits and roots, peaceful, and of noble conduct, as described.
As he sat at the feet of the great sage, his feelings became intensely bound by affection, like those of a human.
Then, the mighty tiger, blood-eating and utterly corrupted by selfishness, cruel like Death the destroyer, approached.
Being licked and thirsty, intent on shaking its tail, with its mouth wide open, weakened by hunger, it was begging for that meat.
O great-minded one, hear what the dog said there to the sage, when the king, seeking his life, saw the cruel one approaching.
O revered one, here the tiger wants to kill me. If you show your grace, I will have no fear, O great sage.
The sage said.
You need not fear death from the tiger in any way. This tiger, lacking its own form, is what you become, O son.
Bhīṣma said.
Then Citrāṅga, the dog with the appearance of Jāmbūnada gold, having been led to the island, lives joyfully and fearlessly in the forest, quivering with delight.
Then the very fierce, hungry tiger with its mouth wide open and licking its lips, longing for blood, approached the leopard.
Seeing the tiger, fierce with hunger and fangs, roaming the forest, the leopard sought refuge with the sage to save his life.
Then, as the sage always showed affection arising from their association, that tiger, made stronger, was led to the state of a tiger by his enemies. Then, seeing him, the tiger did not attack him, O lord of men.
But he, the dog, having become a strong, flesh-eating tiger, then did not even have any desire for the enjoyment of roots and fruits.
Just as the king of beasts always longs for the forest-dwellers, so at that time, O great king, he became a tiger.
The tiger, having eaten its fill, lay asleep at the base of the Tūṭaja tree among the slain deer; then an intoxicated elephant, like a rising cloud, came to that spot.
He was broken-tusked, tall, lotus-bearing, broad-headed, with fine tusks, a massive body, and a voice deep as thunder.
When the tiger saw the intoxicated, proud elephant approaching, frightened by the elephant, he went to the sage for refuge.
Then the best of sages led the tiger to become an elephant; seeing him like a great cloud, the elephant became afraid.
Then he, adorned with lotus-dust and filled with joy, wandered through the lotus thickets and the dense śallakī groves.
Once, as the elephant Sumukha was enjoying himself, time passed night after night for the sage who was living in his hut.
Then Kesarī, the tawny-maned lion born in a mountain cave, formidable and the destroyer of the serpent race, came to that place.
Seeing the lion coming near, the serpent, terrified and trembling with fear, sought refuge with the sage.
Then, at that time, the sage transformed the king of serpents into a lion. The wild lion was not distinguished because of the similarity in species and association.
Having seen this, the wild lion, frightened and speechless, did not eat. That lion also dwelt happily in that very forest hermitage.
But the other small animals living in the forest of austerities were always seen, stricken by fear and longing for life.
At a certain time, due to the influence of time, he became a powerful destroyer of all living beings, a blood-eater, and a terror to many creatures.
The eight-footed, upward-footed śarabha, a forest-dwelling beast, came to the sage's dwelling to kill the lion.
The sage transformed him into a Śarabha, a mighty destroyer of enemies. Then that wild Śarabha stood before the sage's Śarabha. Seeing the extremely powerful and fierce being, he quickly fled in fear.
Thus, he was placed by the sage in the position of Śarabha; always remaining at the sage's side, he attained the happiness belonging to Śarabha.
Then, O king, all the groups of deer, terrified by the śarabha, fled from the forest in all directions, seeking to save their lives out of fear.
The deer, too, being extremely enraged, was always intent on killing living beings; he, as a flesh-eater, did not wish for calmness or to eat fruits and roots.
Then, driven by blood-thirst and accompanied by the powerful Śarabha, the ungrateful one born of a canine womb sought to kill the sage.
Then, by the power of his austerity and with the eye of knowledge, the great wise sage understood and spoke to the dog.
You, the dog, attained the nature of a leopard; the leopard attained the nature of a tiger. The tiger became an intoxicated and strong elephant; the elephant attained the nature of a lion.
The lion, though greatly powerful, again turned into a śarabha. Because I was overwhelmed by affection, I did not examine the family lineage.
Because you wish to harm me, who am sinless, therefore, having attained your own species, you will indeed become a dog.
Then, due to his hatred of the sages, the wicked and ignorant Śarabha, who had been turned into a dog and cursed by the sage, regained his original form.
