The Suhanu Jātaka

The Buddha told this story at Jetavana, and the Jātaka Atthakatha, the ancient commentary that preserves the Jataka tales, records it as Jātaka No. 158, the Suhanu Jātaka. It concerns two hot-tempered monks. They were passionate, cruel, and violent. One lived at Jetavana, and the other lived in the countryside.

Once the country monk came to Jetavana on some errand. The novices and younger monks knew his temper, and they also knew the temper of the resident monk. So they led him to the other's cell, eager to see the two quarrel.

No sooner had the two hot-tempered men seen one another than they ran into each other's arms. They stroked and caressed each other's hands, feet, and backs.

The monks talked about it in the Hall of Truth. "Friends, these brothers are cross, cruel, and angry with everyone else, but with each other they are the best of friends, cordial and sympathetic!" The Master came in and asked what they were discussing, and they told him.

He answered that this was not the first time such men, who were cross, cruel, and angry with all others, had shown themselves friendly to each other. It had happened in olden days too. Then he told an old-world tale.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was his do-all, a courtier who advised him on things temporal and things spiritual. The king was somewhat covetous. He owned a brute of a horse named Mahāsoṇa, or Big Chestnut.

Some horse-dealers from the north country brought down five hundred horses, and word was sent to the king that they had arrived. In the past the Bodhisatta had always asked the dealers to fix their own price and had then paid it in full. This time the king was displeased with him.

The king summoned another courtier and gave an order. "Friend, make the men name their price. Then let loose Big Chestnut so that he goes among their horses. Make him bite them, and when they are weak and wounded, get the men to lower their price." The courtier said, "Certainly," and carried it out.

The dealers were deeply aggrieved and told the Bodhisatta what the horse had done. He asked whether they had not got another such brute in their own city. They said they had one named Suhanu, or Strongjaw, a fierce and savage horse. "Bring him with you the next time you come," said the Bodhisatta. They promised to do so.

The next time the dealers came, Strongjaw came with them. The king heard that the dealers had arrived and opened his window to look at the horses. He ordered Big Chestnut to be let loose. As the dealers saw Chestnut coming, they let Strongjaw loose.

No sooner had the two met than they stood still, licking each other all over.

The astonished king asked the Bodhisatta what this meant. "Friend," said the Bodhisatta, "when these two rogue horses come across others, they are fierce, wild, and savage. They bite them and make them ill. But with each other, there they stand, licking one another all over the body. What is the reason?"

The reason, said the Bodhisatta, was that they were not dissimilar. They were alike in nature and character. Then he spoke two verses. Birds of a feather flock together: Chestnut and Strongjaw agree, for in scope and aim both are the same. Both are savage and both are vicious, and both always bite their tether, so sin with sin and vice with vice must agree together.

The Bodhisatta went on to warn the king against excessive covetousness and against spoiling other men's goods. He fixed the proper value and made the king pay it. The dealers received the due price and went away well satisfied. The king abided by the Bodhisatta's admonition and in time passed away to fare according to his deeds.

When the Master ended his discourse, he identified the birth. "The bad brothers were then these two horses, Ānanda was the king, and I was the wise counsellor."

The Suhanu Jātaka has a comic surface and a serious point. Two animals that terrorized everyone around them behaved gently to one another, and the Bodhisatta read that scene as a lesson about likeness. Similar natures feel at home together, and so a person who keeps bad company should not be surprised to find his own habits growing stronger.

The story also records a quieter act of justice. The Bodhisatta did not lecture first. He arranged for the truth to be seen, explained it, and then called the king back to fairness. The merchants were paid honestly. A devotee can take from this that the best correction shows an error plainly and still leaves the person a way to mend it.