Near the ancient city of Mahilaropya stood a great banyan tree. Among its branches lived a crow named Laghupatanaka. One morning, as he set out in search of food, he saw a hunter approaching with a net upon his shoulder. One glance was enough for the crow to understand the man's purpose. He returned at once to the tree and called to the birds that nested there.

"Friends," he said, "do not descend. A hunter has spread his snare."

The hunter came beneath the banyan, spread his net upon the ground, scattered grain over it, and concealed himself behind a nearby thicket. Trusting Laghupatanaka's warning, the birds remained among the branches and would not descend.

Before long, Chitragriva, the king of the pigeons, arrived with his flock. They had flown far in search of food, and hunger weighed heavily upon them. As they circled above the tree, the grain scattered below caught their attention.

"Your Majesty," said one of the pigeons, "there is grain beneath the tree."

Chitragriva looked carefully at the ground.

"This grain was not here before," he said.

Another pigeon answered, "We have searched since dawn and found nothing. If we hesitate even now, hunger will be our only reward."

The others spoke in the same manner. Seeing the distress of his companions, Chitragriva would not abandon them. Together they descended to the ground.

No sooner had they begun pecking at the grain than the net sprang up around them. Within moments the entire flock was trapped. Some beat their wings in panic. Others struggled against the cords. A few blamed one another for their misfortune.

The hunter emerged from his hiding place and hastened towards them.

Chitragriva raised his voice.

"Do not waste your strength struggling alone. When I give the signal, let every wing rise together."

The pigeons obeyed.

At their king's command they spread their wings as one. At first the net trembled. Then it lifted a little from the ground. In another moment the whole flock had carried it into the air.

The hunter stopped in astonishment. Never had he imagined that birds would carry away the very net laid for their capture. He ran after them, saying to himself, "They cannot fly far. Before long they will grow weary and fall."

But the pigeons neither quarrelled nor scattered. Keeping perfect rhythm, they flew onward together. At last the hunter, exhausted and unable to follow further, abandoned the chase.

Chitragriva led the flock towards the dwelling of his trusted friend, Hiranyaka. From the branches of the banyan, Laghupatanaka had witnessed everything.

"I must see how these pigeons are freed," he thought.

With that, the crow followed them, unaware that this journey would soon bring him friendships unlike any he had known before.

The hunter's net bound every pigeon alike, yet it revealed the difference between confusion and leadership. While others thought only of escape, Chitragriva thought first of acting together. It was that single decision, more than the strength of many wings, that carried the flock beyond the hunter's reach.