On the full moon night of Vesak, in the ancient forest of Varanasi, four friends gathered beneath the shade of a spreading banyan tree. They were not ordinary animals, though each looked quite simple: a monkey, a jackal, an otter, and a hare. They had lived together in harmony for many years, and each one followed the teachings of kindness, truthfulness, and mindfulness they learned from the travelers who passed through the forest speaking of the wise ones who practiced the Dharma—the way of truth shown by the Enlightened Ones.
The hare, gentle and calm, was different from the others. Unlike the jackal who found scraps and stored them, or the monkey who gathered fruits in abundance, the hare had always been peaceful and detached. He lived only on a handful of grass and never collected anything for himself. “One should offer even what little one has,” he would often say.
One morning, as the sun stretched golden fingers through the trees, the hare gathered his friends and said, “Tomorrow is the day of merit, the holy full moon. Let us each prepare a gift for anyone in need, for this is the path of compassion.”
The otter, who had hidden away a river fish, polished it clean. The jackal, sneaky but good-hearted, brought a pot of curds he had found near a village. The monkey gathered ripe mangoes and fresh honey. But the hare had nothing—no hoard of food, no honey to offer.
That night, a most unusual visitor appeared in the forest, disguised as a beggar with tangled hair and tattered robes. In truth, this was Śakra, King of the Devas (heavenly beings), who had heard of the hare's great virtue and came to see for himself.
He approached the four friends in turn, and each, without hesitation, shared his offering. Finally, he came to the hare, who greeted him kindly but offered no food.
The man bowed his head, disappointed. “Do you have nothing to give to a hungry traveler?”
The hare sat silently, then said, “I have no store of food. I live only on the grass of this forest. But if you are truly hungry, then build a fire—and I shall give you my very body.”
Without a moment’s fear, the hare leapt toward the fire, but before he could touch the flames, Śakra waved his hand and turned the fire cool as moonlight.
The fire vanished, and Śakra revealed his true form, his robes glowing like starlight. “Noble hare,” he said, eyes shining with awe, “you have given a greater gift than food or gold. You have given up even the self, without a trace of pride.”
Then, in honor of the hare’s selflessness, Śakra painted his image on the face of the moon, where it has remained ever since.
From that day onward, beings of heaven and earth told the story of the Selfless Hare. Children in villages whispered it to each other under the night sky. Monks spoke of it in temples. And long after the hare’s body returned to the earth, his mindful act rippled onward, teaching the world that compassion without attachment is the gateway to true peace.
The hare had nothing—and gave everything.
On the full moon night of Vesak, in the ancient forest of Varanasi, four friends gathered beneath the shade of a spreading banyan tree. They were not ordinary animals, though each looked quite simple: a monkey, a jackal, an otter, and a hare. They had lived together in harmony for many years, and each one followed the teachings of kindness, truthfulness, and mindfulness they learned from the travelers who passed through the forest speaking of the wise ones who practiced the Dharma—the way of truth shown by the Enlightened Ones.
The hare, gentle and calm, was different from the others. Unlike the jackal who found scraps and stored them, or the monkey who gathered fruits in abundance, the hare had always been peaceful and detached. He lived only on a handful of grass and never collected anything for himself. “One should offer even what little one has,” he would often say.
One morning, as the sun stretched golden fingers through the trees, the hare gathered his friends and said, “Tomorrow is the day of merit, the holy full moon. Let us each prepare a gift for anyone in need, for this is the path of compassion.”
The otter, who had hidden away a river fish, polished it clean. The jackal, sneaky but good-hearted, brought a pot of curds he had found near a village. The monkey gathered ripe mangoes and fresh honey. But the hare had nothing—no hoard of food, no honey to offer.
That night, a most unusual visitor appeared in the forest, disguised as a beggar with tangled hair and tattered robes. In truth, this was Śakra, King of the Devas (heavenly beings), who had heard of the hare's great virtue and came to see for himself.
He approached the four friends in turn, and each, without hesitation, shared his offering. Finally, he came to the hare, who greeted him kindly but offered no food.
The man bowed his head, disappointed. “Do you have nothing to give to a hungry traveler?”
The hare sat silently, then said, “I have no store of food. I live only on the grass of this forest. But if you are truly hungry, then build a fire—and I shall give you my very body.”
Without a moment’s fear, the hare leapt toward the fire, but before he could touch the flames, Śakra waved his hand and turned the fire cool as moonlight.
The fire vanished, and Śakra revealed his true form, his robes glowing like starlight. “Noble hare,” he said, eyes shining with awe, “you have given a greater gift than food or gold. You have given up even the self, without a trace of pride.”
Then, in honor of the hare’s selflessness, Śakra painted his image on the face of the moon, where it has remained ever since.
From that day onward, beings of heaven and earth told the story of the Selfless Hare. Children in villages whispered it to each other under the night sky. Monks spoke of it in temples. And long after the hare’s body returned to the earth, his mindful act rippled onward, teaching the world that compassion without attachment is the gateway to true peace.
The hare had nothing—and gave everything.
