The Banyan Deer King

That night, the grandmother sat down beside the bed and pulled the blanket up over her grandchildren. The lamp was already out. Outside, the air had turned a little cold. She spoke softly, her voice as warm as a wisp of smoke from the kitchen fire.

Once upon a time, in a faraway forest, there lived a deer with golden fur.

His fur shone golden like sunlight. His eyes were as clear as two jewels. His antlers gleamed silver. He was the Deer King, ruler of a herd of 500 deer. In the Buddhist scriptures, this story is called the Jataka of the Deer King, or the story of the banyan deer. The Jataka tales are Buddhist stories about the earlier lives of the Buddha.

The grandmother went on. In that forest there were two herds of deer. One herd followed the golden Deer King. The other followed another deer leader, named Sakha. Each herd had 500 deer. In all, 1,000 deer lived under the forest canopy near the city of Benares.

In those days, the king of that city was very fond of venison. Every day he went into the forest to hunt. Seeing how wonderfully beautiful the golden Deer King was, the king promised never to harm him. Each time the king went hunting, the villagers had to leave their fields and their gardens to attend him all day long. Everyone was tired. Everyone was unhappy.

So the two herds talked it over together. Rather than have the whole forest hunted in confusion, each day one deer would go to the king on its own, strictly by turns. That way, all the others would be left in peace. From then on, the deer of the forest had far less running and hiding to do.

Every day, one deer stepped forward when its turn came. Only one. So that the thousand others could live.

One day, the grandmother said, the turn fell to a doe in the herd of Sakha.

But that doe was carrying a fawn. Her belly was already round, and her time to give birth was near. She went to Sakha and said, "My lord, I am carrying a new life inside me. If I go now, two lives will be lost together. Please let my turn wait until my little one is born."

Sakha shook his head. "I cannot make any other deer go in your place," he said.

The mother deer turned away in sorrow. She did not know whom else to ask. Then she thought of the golden Deer King in the other herd. She made the long, hard trip to him, bowed her head and told him everything.

The Deer King listened in silence. This mother deer did not belong to his herd. He did not know her at all. But he looked at her round belly, thought of the life inside it, and he understood.

"Very well," the Deer King said. "Go back home now. I will take your turn for you."

The next morning, it was the golden Deer King himself who stepped forward. He walked to the clearing where the deer always came for their turn. He lay down, rested his head on the grass and waited quietly. Without fear. Without regret.

When the king's men saw the golden deer lying there, they stood frozen. Everyone knew this was the Deer King, the one the king had promised never to touch. No one dared lay a hand on him. Word reached the palace, and the king came out to see for himself.

The king looked at the golden deer lying there waiting, and he was astonished. "Deer King," he asked, "I have already promised to spare your life. Why are you lying here today?"

The Deer King raised his head and answered calmly. "Great King, a mother deer who is about to give birth came to me. Her turn had come, but there is still a life inside her. I cannot make any other deer die in her place. So I came here myself."

When the king heard this, he was struck silent. Before him was an animal willing to give up its own life for a mother deer it had never known.

The king gazed at him for a long time. Then he spoke softly. "Never, even among men, have I seen anyone so patient, so kind and so full of compassion."

Then the king said, "I spare you. Stand up."

But the Deer King did not stand up right away. "Great King," he asked, "then what of the mother deer?" The king answered, "I will spare her too."

The Deer King asked again, "And what of all the deer in the forest?" The king said, "I will spare every deer." Still the Deer King did not rise. He went on asking, about the other four-footed animals, about the flocks of birds in the sky, and even about the fish in the rivers. And each time he asked, the king nodded and spared them all.

From that one mother deer, kindness spread through the whole forest. From then on, the animals lived in peace. No one ever had to step forward for a turn again.

The grandmother paused for a moment, then spoke quietly. The scriptures say that long, long ago, in a former life, the Buddha was that golden Deer King. Each time we dare to bear a loss ourselves to shelter someone weaker, we take one step along the path to awakening.

In the house, the grandchildren lay still. Their eyes were closed, their breathing slow and even. Outside, in the darkness of the forest, the sound of deer calling to one another drifted back, as soft as a lullaby.