The Two Headed Bird is a Panchatantra story about unity and the danger of conflict within yourself. One of the most unusual animal fables from ancient India — a tale about what happens when two parts of the same thing work against each other.
There was once a bird with two heads.
Both heads belonged to the same body. One set of wings. One stomach. Two heads — each with their own eyes, their own thoughts, their own opinions.
They lived near a river and ate fruit from the trees. The body was fed when either head ate — the stomach was shared even if the heads were not.
For a long time this worked.
One morning the first head found a beautiful fruit on the riverbank. Sweet smelling. Ripe. He had never seen this kind before.
He ate it slowly. Every bite was extraordinary.
The second head watched.
"Give me some," the second head said.
"I found it," the first head said. "It is mine."
"We share the same stomach. When you eat I am also fed. But I want to taste it too."
"No," said the first head. And ate the last of it.
The second head said nothing.
A few days later the second head found something near the water.
It was not fruit. It was a berry — dark, unfamiliar. Something about it looked wrong. But the second head picked it up anyway.
"What is that?" the first head asked. "It does not look safe."
"I found it," the second head said. "It is mine."
"We share the same stomach. If you eat that it will poison both of us."
"You did not share with me," the second head said. "Why should I share with you?"
He ate it.
The body had one stomach. What the second head swallowed reached them both.
They both died that afternoon by the river.
Fighting with your own — harms your own.
There is no winning side.
