Giving Without a Moment's Hesitation

That morning, sunlight streamed through the canopies of ancient trees in the old forest, casting shimmering streaks of light across the carpet of fallen leaves. A group of young princes rode their horses into the forest to play, the sound of hooves clattering, their laughter mingling with the cheerful songs of birds.

They rode on and on, crossing small streams and rolling over gentle hills. At a clearing, they stopped before a sheer cliff face. Looking down from above, a deep, dark ravine came into view. And then, a sight that left them all frozen in silence.

At the bottom of the ravine lay a tigress, skin and bones, collapsed flat upon the ground. Beside her were three tiny cubs, burrowing into their mother's body, crying out weak, hungry little sounds. The tigress seemed utterly exhausted, no longer able to move, breathing her last faint breaths. The cubs, with no milk to drink, were also fading away, lying still as if waiting for death.

One of the older brothers spoke up, his voice full of pity:

"How pitiful! But there is nothing we can do. Come, let us go home."

Everyone nodded and turned their horses back. But the youngest brother — a young prince — stood silently, gazing down into the deep ravine. Boundless sorrow welled up in his heart. He could not walk away. He knew he had to do something.

Halfway back, he suddenly said to his brothers:

"Please go on ahead. I have a small matter to attend to. I will return later."

Without waiting for his brothers to ask questions, he turned his horse back toward the cliff. This time, he did not stand at the top looking down, but searched for a way to descend. When he arrived, he looked at the tigress breathing her last, her eyes wide open, lifeless. He took off his outer robe and hung it on a nearby branch, and then, without a moment's hesitation, he leapt down before the tigress.

The violent fall broke his arms and legs, and blood flowed out. But the tigress was too weak even to tear at his flesh. She only looked at him with lifeless eyes. The prince understood. He looked around and saw a dry branch nearby. Reaching out with all his remaining strength, he took hold of it and cut into his own throat. Blood spurted forth, and with great effort he brought his neck close to the tigress's mouth, so that his final drops of blood could flow into it.

The tigress began to lick the blood. Drop by drop, her strength slowly returned. When she had gathered enough strength, she began to tear at the prince's flesh and devoured it hungrily. The prince closed his eyes, smiling serenely, letting go, offering his body as food for the starving tigress. Because of this, the tigress regained the strength to produce milk for her cubs. The little cubs were saved.

Meanwhile, the princes returned to the palace and waited, but their younger brother never came. They grew worried and sent people to search for him. At the cliff, they found his robe hanging on a branch. Looking down into the ravine, they saw only a pile of white bones, and a healthy tigress walking about with her cubs, playing happily.

It is said that later, when the Buddha recounted this story of his past life, he pointed out the very spot where he had offered his body to the starving tigress. King Ashoka, upon hearing this story, built a stupa there in commemoration.

The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates the paramita of generosity: a giving that is perfect and absolute, without discrimination toward the recipient (whether a wicked person or a fierce animal), without calculating gain or loss, and without a moment's hesitation upon seeing a being in need. The essence of the paramita lies in decisiveness — no doubt, no hesitation, no attachment to one's own interests.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang