More than 2,
500 years ago,
The Sakaya king ruled over the kingdom of Kapilavastu,
One of the borders of what now is known as Nepal.
The king and his queen had no children.
One night,
As the queen lay sleeping,
She had a strange dream.
She dreamt that a beautiful baby elephant,
As wide as snow,
Came down from the sky and entered her body.
At once,
Music began to play,
Trees 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 priest foretold that soon a son will be born to her.
A son who will become either a great king or a great sage.
A few months later,
The queen gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.
The king and queen 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 and his horse Chintak.
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 with 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,
The feathers etched with gold in the bright sunshine.
Oh,
You're beautiful,
Whispered Siddhartha to the swans.
Siddhartha sat down by the river bank to watch the birds.
Suddenly an arrow came whistling out of the earth 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 dandry in his arms and waded out to the river bank.
He quietly swan and then gently pulled the arrow of its wing,
Using a stick for a splint and a strip torn from his clothing for a bandage.
Meanwhile,
The Vedadha came running up in search of his arrow.
He too had seen the swans from a distance and he had decided to practice his shooting skills on the beautiful birds.
That swan belongs to me,
Said the Vedadha.
I shoot it,
Not you.
No,
Said Siddhartha.
It belongs to me.
I save it.
Very well,
Said the Vedadha.
Let us go to our guru.
He will tell you that the swan is mine because it's my arrow that hit it.
The two children took the injured swan to the guru.
The guru heard the Vedadha still and turned to Siddhartha.
Well,
Siddhartha,
What do you have to say?
The Vedadha heard the swan,
Said Siddhartha.
The swan was doing him no harm.
It was swimming on the river,
Looking so beautiful.
Why did the Vedadha 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.
The Vedadha has hurt it and sought to destroy it.
So the swan remains with Siddhartha.
The Vedadha was furious.
He stomped off,
Swearing he will get even with Siddhartha one day.
But Siddhartha only smiled.
He had saved the swan.
He looked after the bird until its broken wing was mended and then released back into 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.
