More than two thousand five hundred years ago, the Sakya king Sudhodhana ruled over the kingdom of Kapilavastu, on the borders of what is now Nepal. King Sudhodhana and his queen, Maya, had no children.
One night, as Queen Maya lay sleeping, she had a strange dream. She dreamt that a beautiful baby elephant, as white as snow, came down from the sky and entered her body. At once, music began to play, trees and bushes blossomed with flowers, and lotuses covered the lakes. The whole world began to celebrate.
The next morning, the queen described her strange dream. The Brahmin priests foretold that soon a son would be born to her, a son who would become either a great king or a great sage. A few months later, the queen gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. King Sudhodhana and Queen Maya named their son Siddhartha.
The king and queen surrounded their son with every luxury and comfort that they could think of. Siddhartha’s days were spent in the palace and its beautiful gardens, playing and learning with his cousins, friends and companions. His best friends were his cousin Ananda, his squire Chandak and his horse Kantak.
Siddhartha was a kind and gentle child, and everyone who met him loved him, except his cousin Devadatta. Devadatta hated Siddhartha. He hated his kindness and his compassion, and the fact that he was loved so dearly by everyone in the palace. Devadatta used every opportunity he could get to pick a fight with Siddhartha, or to create trouble for him.
One lovely spring morning, Siddhartha was playing by the river that flowed through the palace gardens. He saw a group of swans floating gracefully on the river. Siddhartha stopped to watch them. The great white birds swam slowly down the river, their feathers edged with gold in the bright sunshine. ‘Oh, you’re beautiful,’ whispered Siddhartha to the swans. Siddhartha sat down by the riverbank to watch the birds.
Suddenly an arrow came whizzing out of the air, and pierced the biggest, most beautiful of the swans. Siddhartha cried out, and ran into the river towards the bird. The poor swan was thrashing his wings in fear and pain. It couldn’t swim, it couldn’t fly – the arrow had broken one of its wings.
Siddhartha held his hands out to the injured bird, calling softly to calm it down. He held the bird tenderly in his arms and waded out to the riverbank. He quieted the swan, and then gently pulled the arrow out of its wing. Using a stick for a splint, and a strip torn from his clothing for a bandage, Siddhartha set and bound the wing of the swan.
Meanwhile, Devadatta came running up in search of his arrow. He too had seen the swans from a distance, and had decided to practice his shooting skills on the beautiful birds.
‘That swan belongs to me,’ said Devadatta. ‘I shot it, not you.’
‘No,’ said Siddhartha. ‘It belongs to me. I saved it.’
‘Very well,’ said Devadatta. ‘Let us go to our guru. He will tell you that the swan is mine because it is my arrow that hit it!’
The two children took the injured swan to their guru. The guru heard Devadatta’s tale and turned to Siddhartha.
‘Well, Siddhartha,’ asked the teacher. ‘What do you have to say?’
‘Devadatta hurt the swan,’ said Siddhartha. ‘The swan was doing him no harm! It was swimming on the river, looking so beautiful. Why did Devadatta shoot it? I will not let him have it, he will hurt it again. I have made it well – so now it is mine.’
The teacher smiled when he heard what Siddhartha had to say.
‘The swan belongs to Siddhartha,’ he said. ‘Siddhartha has saved its life, and cared for it and made it well. Devadatta has hurt it, and sought to destroy it. Nobody can own a living being, except the one who loves it. So the swan remains with Siddhartha.’
Devadatta was furious. He stomped off, swearing he would get even with Siddhartha one day.
But Siddhartha only smiled. He had saved the swan. He looked after the bird till its broken wing was mended, and then released it back on the river.
Siddhartha grew up to fulfill the prophecy of his birth – he became a great sage, among the greatest of them all. Siddhartha became Gautam Buddha.
(Retold by Rohini Chowdhury. Source: https://www.longlongtimeago.com)