The Road Where Dozens Lost Their Lives

A stretch of road in a northern province was only one or two kilometers long, yet the atmosphere around it was always heavy. Trucks, buses, and motorbikes rushed past in succession, kicking up dust along the roadside. Residents nearby would startle at the sound of sudden braking, rushing out to see what had happened. In less than a few months, dozens of people had died at this very spot.

The accidents came so rapidly that locals could no longer recall the exact dates. One day a vehicle overturned; shortly after, another person was struck by a car. Among the deceased was the wife of a provincial vice chairman. The fear was no longer just a private family matter but had become an obsession for the entire region.

Local Buddhists learned that a teacher was visiting the north and sought him out to describe the situation. They had witnessed too many funerals and knew not what to do except remind each other to drive slowly. One spoke with a voice full of exhaustion:

"Teacher, that road is only one or two kilometers long, yet dozens have died there in recent months."

The teacher asked, "Are all the accidents concentrated around that area?"

The Buddhist nodded. "Yes, almost entirely within that section. Everyone who passes through is afraid."

Another added, "Among the dead was the wife of a provincial vice chairman. We hope you will come to pray for peace on that road."

The teacher remained silent for a moment. The pain of each family could not be erased, but if they stood by and watched, more accidents might occur. He agreed to go to the site, set up an altar for making offerings, and chant sutras to pray for the departed and those still traveling the road.

On the day of the ceremony, alongside the chanting, the roar of engines continued outside. The teacher wore his robes with dignity, standing before the altar with deep concentration. Behind him, the Buddhists pressed their palms together, praying for the dead to find rest and for the road to stop being stained with blood.

"We do not only pray for the deceased," the teacher instructed. "We must also pray that every driver passing here remains alert, and that people reach their destinations safely."

A Buddhist asked, "After the chanting, is there anything else we should do?"

The teacher replied, "Keep your mind pure. I will walk along the road to offer blessings."

After the ritual, the teacher held incense sticks in his hands and stepped onto the road. The long stretch ahead churned with traffic. He walked slowly and steadily along the shoulder, murmuring prayers under his breath. When he reached the end, he turned back, walking forth and back across the entire length of the road.

Red vehicles passed by and returned, their occupants looking curiously at the teacher. Clad in robes and holding incense, walking amidst the dust, some thought he was performing a spiritual rite. A passenger lowered his voice to ask another:

"What is that monk doing?"

Someone beside him answered, "He is probably performing a ceremony for the accident-prone road."

The teacher heard the traffic but paid no attention to the stares. His focus was on the fear of the living and the suffering of the dead. Each step was a vow for protection, asking that drivers remain calm, awake, and steer correctly, and that pedestrians avoid disaster.

A Buddhist following him worried about his fatigue and suggested, "Teacher, you have walked many times already. Should you rest for a while?"

The teacher kept his gaze forward. "The road is not long, but too many have lost their lives. Let me complete one more round."

The follower pressed his palms together. "We will pray with you."

The teacher reminded them, "Pray with compassion for others, not merely out of fear."

The prayer session lasted amidst the dense flow of traffic. No miraculous signs appeared. The pavement remained hot, dust still flew, and horns still blared. Yet when the teacher finished his final walk, everyone felt a weight lift from their hearts. They were no longer standing idly before a chain of tragedies but working together to bring peace.

In the days that followed, residents watched the road with anxious anticipation. A week passed without a fatal accident. Then a month, and several more months went by. The relentless chain of crashes suddenly stopped.

A Buddhist called to report to the teacher: "Since the ceremony, there have been no more accidents on that road."

The teacher asked, "Are people still obeying traffic laws?"

"Yes," the caller replied. "Locals are driving more carefully and continuing to pray."

The teacher said, "That is complete. One cannot rely solely on prayer while driving carelessly."

From then on, the road remained peaceful, never again seeing dozens die in such a short time. For the locals, this result was liberation from an obsession that had weighed heavily for months. For the teacher, it served as proof that ensuring traffic safety requires multiple factors: law, awareness, driving skills, and sincere prayer for the community.

No one has the right to speed, drink and drive, or ignore observation because of this. Prayer does not replace responsibility. But faced with a place where people continuously die, practitioners should not remain indifferent, claiming it is merely individual karma. The suffering of others appearing before our eyes is a call for each of us to contribute to prevention using our own abilities.

The one or two kilometer stretch remains there, with cars passing daily. The difference is that residents no longer rush out at the sound of violent collisions, nor do they line up to bid farewell to those who left home but could not return. This peace taught them that every sincere prayer must accompany compassion and responsible action.

The Meaning of the Story

Before a location prone to accidents, one should not be indifferent, assuming it is merely the karma of the victims. Alongside obeying laws and driving cautiously, each person can sincerely pray, contributing to the protection of community peace.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang