The Monkey's Heart
At a Glance
- Central figures: The Bodhisatta, born as a monkey living in a great fig tree on a riverbank; a crocodile who befriends him; and the crocodile’s wife, who demands the monkey’s heart.
- Setting: A riverbank and a river island in ancient India, from the Pali Jataka collection (Jataka No. 208, the Sumsumara Jataka).
- The turn: The crocodile’s wife falls ill and declares she will die unless she eats a monkey’s heart, so the crocodile lures his friend onto his back and swims toward deep water.
- The outcome: The monkey outwits the crocodile by claiming he left his heart hanging in the fig tree, escapes when the crocodile returns to shore, and ends the friendship forever.
- The legacy: The story entered Buddhist teaching as a parable on the power of quick thinking in danger and the cost of betraying trust; it became one of the most widely illustrated Jatakas in temple art across South and Southeast Asia.
A crocodile floated in the shallows below a fig tree. The tree was enormous - its roots drank from the river and its branches bent with ripe fruit. Every morning, fruit dropped into the water. The crocodile ate what fell near him and watched the monkey above.
The monkey was large, rust-colored, and alone. He lived in the crown of the fig tree the way a king lives in a palace: it was his and he knew every branch. He ate the figs that were soft and sweet and let the rest fall. The crocodile, drifting below, caught the fallen fruit in his jaws and found it good.
The Crocodile in the Shallows
After many days of eating the monkey’s dropped figs, the crocodile spoke up.
Who is throwing me these figs?
The monkey looked down. He saw a long jaw, a ridged back, two flat eyes at the water’s surface.
I am, the monkey said. I live here. There is more fruit than I need.
This was how they became friends. The monkey threw fruit down; the crocodile floated below and talked. They talked about the river, about the rains, about the fish the crocodile had eaten and the birds the monkey had seen. The monkey had no family. The crocodile had a wife who lived on a sandbank island in the middle of the river. Each evening the crocodile swam home to her, and each morning he returned to the fig tree.
His wife noticed. She noticed the lateness, the lingering, the fig pulp on his teeth.
Where do you go every day?
To see a monkey, the crocodile said. He is my friend. He gives me fruit from his tree.
The wife said nothing that night. But the next night she said something.
The Wife’s Demand
A monkey who eats nothing but ripe figs - his heart must be sweet.
The crocodile did not understand at first.
I want to eat his heart, his wife said. Bring it to me.
The crocodile refused. The monkey was his friend. He had eaten the monkey’s fruit. He had spent whole afternoons beneath the tree listening to the monkey talk.
His wife lay on the sandbank and would not eat. She would not drink. She said she was ill and would die unless she had the monkey’s heart, and she said it every hour, and she said it through the night. By morning the crocodile was wretched. By noon he had given in.
He swam to the fig tree.
Friend, the crocodile called up, my wife wants to meet you. She says I have been selfish keeping your company to myself. Come to our island. She has prepared a meal.
The monkey hesitated. He had never left his tree - not for any reason. The river was deep and he could not swim.
How would I get there?
On my back, the crocodile said. I will carry you. It is not far.
The monkey climbed down to the lowest branch, then dropped onto the crocodile’s broad back. The scales were rough and warm from the sun. The crocodile pushed off from the bank and swam toward the center of the river.
The Deep Water
Halfway across, the crocodile began to sink. Just slightly - his back dipping below the surface, the water rising around the monkey’s feet. The monkey gripped the ridges of the crocodile’s back and felt the current pull.
Why are you going deeper? the monkey asked.
The crocodile did not answer at first. Then he did, because crocodiles are not good liars and this one was worse than most.
My wife does not want to meet you, the crocodile said. She wants your heart. She says she is dying and only a monkey’s heart will save her. I am sorry, friend. I am taking you to her so she can eat it.
The water was all around them now. The monkey could not jump - there was nothing to jump to. The riverbank was behind him. The island was ahead. Below him was a crocodile who intended to kill him.
The monkey did not panic. He sat on the crocodile’s back and thought very quickly.
You should have told me, the monkey said. His voice was calm - conversational, even. I would have brought it.
The crocodile slowed.
Brought what?
My heart. I do not carry it with me. It is too valuable. I leave it hanging in the fig tree when I go out. If you had told me your wife needed it, I would have taken it down from the branch where I keep it and brought it along.
The Fig Tree Again
The crocodile believed this. He turned around. He swam back the way he had come, steady and purposeful, carrying the monkey toward the riverbank and the great fig tree. The monkey sat still and said nothing. The water beneath him was shallow now. He could see the riverbed through the brown current.
When they reached the tree, the monkey leapt from the crocodile’s back to the lowest branch. Then to a higher branch. Then higher still, until he was deep in the canopy, hidden among the broad leaves and the clusters of ripe fruit.
The crocodile waited below.
Throw down your heart, he called.
The monkey looked down from the crown of the tree. The crocodile floated there with his flat eyes turned upward, mouth open, patient.
You fool, the monkey said. No creature keeps its heart in a tree. My heart is inside my chest where it has always been. Go home to your wife. Tell her she married the stupidest crocodile in the river.
The crocodile lay there a long time. Then he sank below the surface and the water closed over him.
The Empty River
The monkey stayed in the fig tree. He ate figs that afternoon and he ate figs the next morning. The fruit still fell into the water, but no one was below to catch it. It floated downstream and was gone.
The crocodile did not come back. Whether his wife recovered or did not, whether she ate or starved, the Jataka does not say. It says only that the Bodhisatta - who was the monkey - kept his life through quickness of mind when strength would not have saved him, and that the friendship between them was finished.
The fruit kept falling. The river kept moving. The monkey sat in his tree, alive and alone, which was how he had been before the crocodile ever drifted into the shallows beneath him.