The Old Monk and the Lost Cow in a Village During the Time of the Dharma's Decline

A farmer loses his cow and runs to the temple monk to cast a divination, arriving at the riverbank just in time to recover the animal before it is slaughtered.

The scent of straw and rice stalks, mingled with the cool air of late afternoon, spread across the village. The bell of the village temple tolled in deep, heavy waves, echoing through the old bamboo groves before dissolving into the thin mist of early winter. Under the glowing red of the setting sun, a man in brown trousers and a cloth shirt, barefoot, his face beaded with sweat, came running breathlessly along the uneven dirt road before the temple courtyard. He carried nothing in his hands; he only held them open, palms spread, as if searching for something that had just slipped beyond his grasp. His eyes darted about, frantic and restless, glancing toward the empty cattle pen behind his house, then back toward the dim doorway of the temple.

"Master! Master, where are you?"

His desperate cry shattered the stillness of the temple courtyard.

This was during the time of the Dharma's decline, when village temples were still the only refuge for poor farmers. Back then, there was hardly any judicial system, no sign of any police, and the Buddhist faith itself was being harshly suppressed. Country folk had nowhere to turn when misfortune struck. To lose a cow, a water buffalo—the most valuable possession an entire family owned—was to lose one's very livelihood. This had happened to countless generations of farmers, and now it had just happened to this old man. He had raised the cow for years, loving it like his own child. That morning he had let it graze by the edge of the rice fields, and when he returned, it was gone. He searched the whole village, calling until his throat was raw, but there was no trace of it. There was no judge to appeal to, no police to report to. All he could do was run straight to the temple, where there lived a monk skilled in the art of divination.

He stood frozen before the temple veranda, clutching the hem of his shirt, his chest heaving. The monk emerged from the main hall, his brown robe worn thin at the shoulders, fingers moving over his prayer beads, his gaze calm and steady as he looked at the man.

"Why are you so breathless? Come in, tell me what happened."

The old man trembled, tears welling in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from rolling down his sun-browned cheeks.

"Master, I've lost my cow. I don't know if someone took it or if it wandered off. Please, look into it for me. My family depends on it for everything. If it's gone, our lives are finished."

Inside the old man, a fierce struggle raged: to search meant not knowing which way to go, but to sit still meant losing the cow forever. He looked at the monk as a drowning man looks at the only life preserver in a flood. The monk said little, only nodded, and led him to a side room of the temple, where the faint flicker of an oil lamp glowed upon an old wooden stand.

The monk sat down, pressed his fingers together to calculate the time, then took three old coins and cast them onto the mat. The metallic clatter against the woven bamboo rang out in the silent space. The monk studied the pattern of the coins, then looked up, his eyes brightening.

"Go now, heading north. If you can make the journey within two hours, you will get your cow back."

The old man's eyes went wide, his hands clenching together until the knuckles cracked:

"And if it takes more than two hours, Master?"

The monk sighed softly, his voice low:

"If more than two hours pass and you have not found it, then consider that someone has already led it across the river. They will slaughter it quickly to make their escape. After that, searching would be useless."

At the word "slaughter," the old man's heart clenched, and cold sweat broke out down the back of his neck. He had no time to give thanks; he bolted from the temple courtyard like an arrow loosed from a bow. His feet pounded over the crackling dry leaves, his breath coming in ragged gasps, yet his aging legs kept pushing northward. The dirt path was rough, sharp thorns cutting into his heels, but he dared not stop. Darkness was gradually falling; only a faint ribbon of light remained on the horizon.

After running for some time, the critical moment arrived: from a distance, he heard the low, hoarse bellowing of a cow by the riverbank, and beside it, the silhouettes of two men dragging the animal toward a small boat. His heart pounded wildly—he recognized his own cow at once. At that very moment, the temple bell rang out from behind him, as if to remind him: not yet two hours. He gritted his teeth and shouted at the top of his voice:

"Stop! Give me back my cow!"

The two men startled and dropped the lead rope. He rushed forward and threw his arms around the cow's neck, his trembling hands stroking its warm coat, and this time the tears could no longer be held back, streaming down his cheeks mingled with a smile of relief. He turned the cow around and led it home before night could fully descend.

The next morning, the old man came to the temple again, carrying a bundle of vegetables and a handful of rice. He set them down on the steps and bowed his head:

"Master, you have saved my whole family. From now on, as long as the cow remains, the fields remain, and my life remains."

The monk only smiled, patted the cow's head, and told the man to go home and tend to his work. From that day on, the humble temple with its kind-hearted monk became the spiritual anchor of the entire hamlet. The villagers needed no judges; whenever misfortune struck, they came running to the temple, and the bond between temple and people grew warm and close through generations. Later, when times changed, when divination faded away and new teachings took its place, that unifying spirit of the countryside still lingered on.

The Meaning of the Story

The ancient philosophy of yin and yang was once applied to everyday life in ways as intimate as casting a divination to help a farmer recover his property at a time when there was no law to protect him. Although divination no longer aligns with the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), the lesson that remains is the bond between temple and people—replacing superstition with the Dharma, bringing peace and happiness to daily life.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang.