The Ungrateful Guest

The sages told the Pandavas of Rajadharma, the noble crane who was a friend of the gods, and of the ungrateful guest who repaid his kindness with the worst of all betrayals - a tale of the supreme sin of ingratitude, and of the justice that fell upon the one who killed his benefactor.

By a beautiful lake there dwelt a crane named Rajadharma, a bird of noble nature and great virtue, the son of the sage Kashyapa and a friend of the gods themselves, who came and went between the lake and the courts of heaven. He was wise and gentle and generous, devoted to the duties of hospitality and friendship, and his name, Rajadharma, meant the very law of kings - the duty of the noble to protect and to give. He lived in peace by his lake, honored by the creatures around him and beloved of the gods, a being of rare goodness.

There came wandering to that region a poor brahmin named Gautama - not the same as any sage of that name, but a man of low and cruel nature despite his birth, who had fallen into poverty and bad ways. He had drifted far from his home, living among hunters and growing hard and greedy and careless of right, until he was a brahmin in name only, his conduct that of a cruel and grasping man. Hungry and weary, he came at last to the lake where the noble crane Rajadharma dwelt.

Gautama arrived at the lake in the evening, tired and hungry and with nowhere to shelter, a poor traveler in need. And the noble crane Rajadharma, seeing the weary guest, received him with all the warmth and generosity of his nature; for the crane held the duties of hospitality sacred, and to him a guest, whoever he might be, was to be honored and cared for. He had no notion of the cruel and ungrateful heart of the man he was taking in; he saw only a guest in need, and opened his home to him gladly.

The crane Rajadharma cared for his guest with the utmost kindness. He gave Gautama a warm and sheltered place to rest; he gathered food for him and fed him well; he kindled a fire to warm him through the cold night, even bringing embers and fuel so that the weary traveler should not suffer from the cold. Through all the night and the days that followed, the noble crane tended his guest with generous and tireless care, treating the poor wanderer as an honored friend and sparing nothing for his comfort.

For many days the crane sheltered and fed and warmed the ungrateful Gautama, asking nothing in return, giving freely of all he had out of the pure goodness of his nature and his reverence for the duties of a host. He was to his guest a true friend and benefactor, saving him from hunger and cold and giving him rest and care when he had nowhere else to turn. And when at last Gautama was ready to go on his way, the crane, still generous, helped him further yet - directing him toward a place where he might gain wealth, that his poverty might be relieved, sending his guest off with kindness and good counsel.

Gautama, following the crane's directions, went and indeed gained wealth, returning laden with riches he had not had before, all thanks to the kindness and counsel of the noble crane who had sheltered him. On his way back, weary again and hungry, he came once more to the lake of his benefactor, the crane Rajadharma, who again received him with the same warmth and gladness, happy to see his guest returned and prospered, and ready once more to shelter and feed him for the night.

But in the cruel and greedy heart of Gautama a dreadful thought had taken root. He was hungry, and he looked at the noble crane who had saved him, who was even now welcoming him again - and instead of gratitude, he felt only a base and brutal hunger, and the wicked thought that the crane itself would make him a meal. There by him was the very friend who had fed and sheltered and enriched him; and the ungrateful man, thinking only of his belly, resolved to kill and eat his benefactor, the noble bird who had done him nothing but good. So black was his ingratitude that he could look upon his savior and see only food.

That night, while the noble crane Rajadharma slept trustingly near the guest he had sheltered, the ungrateful Gautama carried out his wicked design. He fell upon his sleeping benefactor and killed the very crane who had fed and warmed and enriched him, and he cooked and ate the flesh of his friend and savior to satisfy his hunger - repaying all the crane's boundless kindness with the basest and most monstrous of betrayals, the murder of the one who had saved him.

It was the worst of all crimes: the killing of a friend, the murder of a benefactor, the slaying of the very one who had shown him nothing but kindness and to whom he owed his life and his new wealth besides. There is no sin more black than this - to repay great kindness with murder, to betray and destroy one's own savior. And Gautama, having committed it, went on his way with his ill-gotten wealth, his belly full of his benefactor's flesh, carrying upon him now the unspeakable guilt of having slain the friend who had saved him.

The murder of the noble crane Rajadharma did not go unmarked, for he had been a friend of the gods, beloved in heaven; and when it was known that he had been slain - and slain by the very guest he had sheltered, in the blackest ingratitude - there was grief and outrage among the gods and all who had known and loved the noble bird. That so good a being, who had given only kindness, should be murdered by the one he had saved, was a horror that cried out to heaven.

The gods and the friends of the crane resolved that so noble a being should not be left dead by such a betrayal, and that the monstrous ingratitude of his killer should not go unanswered. By the power and grace of the gods - and, in the tellings, with the aid of the king of the gods and of the crane's own divine kin - the noble Rajadharma was restored to life, brought back from death so that the goodness that the world had lost should be restored to it. The crane who had been so foully murdered was given his life again by the love of the gods who had grieved for him.

And upon the ungrateful Gautama, the killer of his benefactor, there fell the reckoning his crime deserved. For the murder of a friend and savior, the blackest of ingratitude, he was condemned and punished, cursed to fall into a dreadful hell and to suffer long for his monstrous deed; for of all sins, the sin of slaying one's benefactor is among the most unforgivable, and it draws down the heaviest of penalties. The wealth he had gained availed him nothing; his crime pursued him, and justice claimed him.

So the tale set side by side the noble crane, restored to life by the love of the gods who grieved for his goodness, and the ungrateful man, cast down into suffering for the murder of his benefactor. The one who had given only kindness was given back his life; the one who had repaid kindness with murder was given the punishment of his ingratitude. And the lesson stood stark between them: that goodness is beloved of heaven and not finally lost, while the betrayal of a benefactor is among the most terrible of crimes, sure to draw down a fearful reckoning.

The sages drew the lessons of the tale for the Pandavas.

'See, first, the supreme sin of ingratitude, and above all the betrayal of a benefactor. Gautama was fed and sheltered and warmed and enriched by the noble crane, who gave him only kindness and saved his very life; and he repaid all that goodness by murdering and devouring his savior. There is no blacker crime than this - to repay great kindness with injury, to betray and destroy the one who has helped you. The tale teaches that ingratitude is among the most terrible of sins, and the killing of a benefactor the most terrible of all; that to forget and betray those who have done us good is to fall as low as a soul can fall, and to draw down upon oneself the heaviest of reckonings. Be never ungrateful; betray never the one who has helped you.

'And see, on the other side, how goodness is beloved of heaven and not finally lost. The noble crane, who gave only kindness, was grieved for by the gods and restored to life; while his ungrateful killer was cast down into suffering. The tale teaches that the good are dear to heaven and that their goodness is not lost even in death, while the betrayer of kindness meets a fearful justice. Be generous and faithful as the noble crane; honor always those who have done you good; and remember above all things the debt of gratitude, which it is the deepest baseness to betray.'

And the Pandavas, who knew well the worth of loyal friends and the bitterness of betrayal, took to heart the tale of the noble crane and the ungrateful guest who slew him.