Mahā-bodhi-jātaka

The Tale of the Bodhisatta and the Wise Parrot

In the magnificent city of Benares, a city that glittered like a jewel under the sun, ruled King Brahmadatta. He was a ruler of great renown, but his reign was shadowed by a peculiar problem: a relentless and devastating famine that plagued his kingdom. The earth was parched, the rivers had dwindled, and the granaries were empty. The people suffered immensely, their faces etched with hunger and despair.

The king, a man of deep compassion, tried every remedy known to his advisors. They dug wells, they prayed for rain, they rationed the meager supplies, but nothing could alleviate the widespread suffering. The famine seemed to have a life of its own, deepening with each passing day.

One day, a wise old ascetic, whose body was emaciated from years of fasting and whose eyes held the wisdom of countless lifetimes, arrived at the palace. He observed the king's distress and the suffering of his people. He approached King Brahmadatta and spoke, his voice thin but resonant.

"Your Majesty," the ascetic began, "this famine is not merely a misfortune of nature. It is the result of a past action, a karmic consequence that weighs upon this land. In a previous existence, you were a king, and your kingdom was blessed with abundance. However, you were known for your extreme stinginess, hoarding wealth and resources even when your people starved. You refused to share even the smallest portion of your vast stores, believing that true prosperity lay in accumulation, not in distribution."

The king was taken aback. "Stinginess? I, who weep for my people now? How can this be?"

"Karma, Your Majesty, is a powerful force," the ascetic replied. "The seeds sown in the past bear fruit in the future, often in ways we cannot immediately comprehend. Your past miserliness has ripened into this great famine. To break this cycle, you must perform an act of unparalleled generosity, an act that transcends mere material giving. You must offer something that is truly precious, something that symbolizes life itself."

The king, filled with remorse and a desperate hope, asked, "What can I possibly offer that is more precious than my kingdom's treasury, which I have already opened in vain?"

The ascetic smiled faintly. "In that same past life, Your Majesty, you also possessed a companion, a creature of great wisdom and loyalty: a parrot named Bodhisatta. This parrot, though small, possessed immense knowledge and a heart filled with compassion. It tried to guide you towards generosity, but you, blinded by your avarice, did not heed its counsel. Now, to truly overcome your past karma, you must offer this parrot, who is now reborn in this very kingdom, and entrust its well-being entirely to the universe, demonstrating ultimate faith and selfless giving."

The king was aghast. Offer a creature, a wise and loyal companion, to the vagaries of fate? It seemed a cruel and impossible task. However, the suffering of his people weighed heavily on his conscience, and he knew he must try.

He set out to find the parrot. After much searching, he discovered a beautiful, intelligent parrot living in the royal gardens. This parrot, though it could not speak of its past life, possessed an uncanny wisdom. It observed the king's distress and seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. The king, with a heavy heart, explained the ascetic's words and the karmic debt they needed to repay.

The parrot, surprisingly, did not flee or squawk in distress. Instead, it looked at the king with its bright, intelligent eyes and tilted its head. It seemed to understand the unspoken plea for sacrifice. The king, seeing a glimmer of understanding, decided to test the parrot's willingness and his own resolve.

He placed the parrot gently on a high branch of a great tree, far from the palace, in a place where it would have to fend for itself, relying on its own resourcefulness and the kindness of strangers. "O wise bird," the king declared, his voice trembling, "I entrust you to the care of the world. May you find sustenance and safety. This is my act of ultimate giving, born of the deepest remorse for my past greed."

As the king watched, the parrot, with a soft chirp, spread its wings and flew away. It did not fly towards the safety of the city, but deeper into the wilderness. The king, heartbroken, returned to his palace, uncertain if his sacrifice would be enough.

Days turned into weeks, and the famine continued. The king began to despair. Had his sacrifice been in vain? Had he misunderstood the ascetic's words?

Then, one morning, a miracle occurred. The sky, which had been a desolate expanse of blue, began to gather clouds. A gentle rain began to fall, first a drizzle, then a steady downpour. The parched earth drank greedily, and soon, the rivers began to swell, and the land turned green. The famine was over.

Overjoyed, the king rushed to thank the ascetic. The ascetic, with a knowing smile, revealed the full story. "Your Majesty," he said, "the parrot you released was not just any bird. It was the Bodhisatta himself, in that past life, who had taken the form of a wise parrot. Even then, he recognized your deep-seated avarice and understood that only through an act of profound selflessness on your part could the karmic debt be cleared. By releasing him, you were not abandoning him, but rather, you were demonstrating ultimate trust and surrender. The parrot, knowing your heart had finally transformed, and seeing your willingness to give up what was precious to you, interceded on your behalf. His compassion and your sincere remorse together broke the cycle of the famine."

The king was humbled and filled with gratitude. He understood that true generosity is not just about giving material possessions, but about giving with a pure heart, and trusting in the interconnectedness of all beings. He learned that even the smallest act of selfless giving, when born of true remorse and compassion, can have the most profound and life-affirming consequences.

From that day forward, King Brahmadatta ruled with unparalleled generosity. He ensured that his granaries were always full and that no one in his kingdom ever suffered from hunger again. He understood that true wealth lies not in hoarding, but in sharing, and that the greatest treasures are compassion and a selfless heart.