Kuṭidūsaka Jātaka

The Master told this story while staying at Jetavana. It concerns a young monk who burned down the leaf hut of the Elder Mahākassapa. The Jātaka Aṭṭhakathā (the traditional Pali commentary that preserves the full jataka stories) of the Pali Canon records it as No. 321, the Kuṭidūsaka Jātaka. The events that led to the telling began at Rājagaha, where the elder lived in a forest cell and was served by two young novices.

One novice was dutiful and helpful. The other was ill-behaved and took credit for whatever his companion did. When the diligent boy set out water for rinsing the mouth, the other went to the elder and announced that the water was ready. When the diligent boy rose early and swept the cell, the idler stirred things about so that it seemed he had done the sweeping himself. The dutiful novice thought to himself that he would expose this cunning.

One day, while the idler slept after his meal, the dutiful novice heated bathwater and hid it in a back room. In the boiler he left only a little water, so that steam still rose. The idler woke, saw the steam, and told the elder that the bath was ready. When the elder found the bathroom empty, the boy rushed to the boiler and let down a ladle, which struck the empty bottom with a clatter. From then on he was known as Rattle-Ladle. The other novice then brought the water, and the elder bathed.

That evening the elder told the boy that a person under vows may say he did a thing only when he has really done it. Otherwise it is a deliberate lie. Rattle-Ladle took offence. The next day he refused to go with the elder to beg in the town, and he visited the elder's supporters alone. He said the elder was ill at home and asked for food in the elder's name, then ate it himself. When the elder learned this, he spoke to the boy again and told him that such begging was improper.

The boy now nursed a grudge. He thought that the elder had quarrelled with him over a little water and again over a handful of rice. When the elder went into the city for alms, he broke the food vessels and set fire to the leaf hut, then ran away. The tradition adds that his act became widely known, and that he met a grim rebirth. Some monks later travelled to Sāvatthi and told the Master what had happened.

The Master said that solitude is better for Kassapa, as the Elder Mahākassapa was also known, than the company of a fool like this. He quoted a stanza of the Dhammapada, which advises a seeker to avoid the vulgar herd and keep as a companion one's equal or better, or else walk alone. Then he said that this was not the first time the young man had turned on someone who reproved him. He began a tale of the past.

When Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a young siṅgila bird. When he was grown, he settled in the Himālaya country and built a nest to his liking, one that the rain could not pierce. In the rainy season the rain fell without a break. A monkey sat near the bird, his teeth chattering from the cold.

Seeing the monkey so wretched, the Bodhisatta spoke to him. He asked why a creature so like a human in hands, feet, and face did not build a shelter against the storm. The monkey answered that although he was close to man in form, wisdom, the chief gift of man, had been denied him. The bird then told him that a fickle, unstable mind finds no happiness. He urged the monkey to strive for virtue and to make a hut of leaves to dwell safe from the wintry wind.

The monkey thought that the bird was despising him from a snug nest, and he vowed not to let it rest in peace. In his eagerness to seize the bird, he sprang at him. But the Bodhisatta flew up into the air and winged his way elsewhere. The monkey then smashed up the nest and went his way. The advice was sound and kindly, yet the listener took only the sting of it.

The Master ended his lesson and identified the birth. At that time the young man who fired the hut was the monkey, and he himself was the siṅgila bird.

The tale does not blame the bird for speaking, nor does it call advice unwise. It shows that correction offered to someone not ready to receive it can turn into resentment, and that the wise protect themselves by stepping aside. It also reminds the monastic and the householder alike that credit for another's work is a quiet falsehood, and that an uncorrected small lie can swell into a larger wrong. Kassapa's choice of solitude, supported by the Dhammapada verse, is offered as dignified, not as bitter. The listener is asked to speak gently, to accept reproof without anger, and to know when to leave a fool alone.