“Today, I will hunt something good and make a delicious meal. Maybe a deer? Yummy!” thought Vadirsaar to himself. After all, he was a Bheel, and hunting had been a part of his life since childhood. This was his livelihood, a way of life he’d never questioned.
He grabbed his sturdy bow and filled his quiver with arrows, his mind already set on the hunt. With a practiced swiftness, he headed into the familiar embrace of the forest. He spotted a magnificent deer and let his arrow fly, but it was too quick and slipped away into the thicket. Frustrated, Vadirsaar chased it deeper into the woods until he saw a sight that made him stop in his tracks.
Below a large tree sat a figure, so still and peaceful that an almost visible aura of serenity seemed to radiate from him. The man’s face was calm, utterly fearless, and his posture was one of deep meditation.
“He must be a tapasvi (ascetic),” Vadirsaar thought, a respectful awe filling him. “I should bow to him and seek his blessings. Maybe his blessings will help me find food easily today.”
He knelt down with his hands joined in a silent prayer. At that very moment, the ascetic, a Muniraj, opened his eyes and saw Vadirsaar before him.
“Maharaj, I bow to you. Please give me your blessings,” Vadirsaar said, his voice sincere.
“May your virtue grow,” the Muniraj replied, his voice calm and gentle. “May you find the right path in life that leads to kindness and compassion for all living beings.”
Vadirsaar’s heart sank a little. “Kindness! Compassion! How can I be kind to living beings? If I am kind, what will I eat? How will I hunt down animals for my family?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Every animal feels the same pain and fear that we feel when we are hurt,” Muniraj explained softly. “They have feelings just like us. Hunting is a heinous crime—it’s the violence of a five-sensed being. All beings have an equal right to live. Causing pain and suffering to others accumulates bad karma. Therefore, I implore you to leave hunting and live non-violently.”
“Leave hunting!” Vadirsaar exclaimed, his voice incredulous. “What are you saying? My life depends on this! It’s the source of my income.” He hoped the Muniraj would understand and say that it was fine to hunt for survival. But the Muniraj remained silent, a profound stillness about him. Violence, he believed, could never be justified, no matter the reason.
After a long moment of quiet reflection, Vadirsaar took a deep breath. He respected the holy man’s words. “I can’t disobey you, Maharaj,” he said, his tone full of reverence. “So, I will take an oath right now: I will never kill a crow or eat its meat in this lifetime. I will not break this promise under any circumstances.”
With this vow, the Bheel bowed one last time and returned to his hunting, leaving the Muniraj to resume his meditation.
Months passed, and Vadirsaar kept his promise, never once eating crow meat. One day, however, he fell gravely ill. The sickness was strange and stubborn; no medicine or herb seemed to help. As his condition worsened, a foolish physician suggested, “There is no cure for this disease. I think it is because you have stopped eating crow meat. Eat it just once and you will be cured.”
“What are you saying? Are you even qualified to treat me? I will never eat crow’s meat, no matter what!” Vadirsaar screamed, summoning all the strength he had left. His family and friends grew worried, and soon, the unusual story of a Bheel refusing meat became the talk of the entire community.
News of his strange illness and even stranger vow reached his close friend, Abhaykumar. Deeply concerned, Abhaykumar left everything and hurried to his friend’s side. As he crossed the forest, he saw a Yakshini sitting sadly on a rock. Though he was in a rush, her sorrow compelled him to stop.
“Oh, Abhaykumar! Your friend, Vadirsaar, is going to hell because of you!” she said, her voice filled with despair.
Abhaykumar was taken aback. “What are you saying? Why would he go to hell because of me? I am his friend, not his enemy!”
“You are going to convince him to eat crow meat,” the Yakshini explained. “He took a vow from the Muniraj never to eat it again. If he breaks his oath, his soul will go to hell in his next birth. That’s why I am sad. A foe is better than a friend who paves the path to hell for you.”
Abhaykumar became serious. “I had no idea about the oath. Thank you for telling me and saving me from a terrible mistake.” He thanked her and rushed to Vadirsaar.
“My dear friend, Vadirsaar! I am here now,” Abhaykumar said, his voice filled with relief. “I will not leave you until you are completely cured.”
Vadirsaar smiled faintly, a sense of comfort washing over him.
“I heard that crow’s meat can cure your disease. Why would you not eat it?” Abhaykumar asked, pretending to be oblivious to the vow. “It’s such a simple remedy.”
Vadirsaar spoke slowly, his voice weak. “My friend, I have taken an oath not to eat crow’s meat from a holy man. Please do not ask me to break it.”
Abhaykumar had heard about his friend’s determination, but he wanted to test it himself. He laughed lightly. “An oath? These types of vows don’t really matter. How will the ascetic even know if you eat the meat? He’s not here.”
Vadirsaar couldn’t believe his ears. “How can you say that? I never thought I would hear something like this from my own friend. No! I will not eat the meat, even if it means ending my life.”
“Okay, okay! Eat it once as a medicine and then take the oath again,” Abhaykumar pleaded, trying to sound reasonable. “You are not eating it as food, so it won’t count as breaking your promise.”
Vadirsaar stared at his friend in disbelief. “No matter what, I will not eat crow’s meat in this lifetime. I may not have been spiritual my whole life, but I can never go back on my words. If you are my true friend, stay and support me; otherwise, leave me alone. I don’t want any friends who cannot understand my feelings and ask me to break my promises.”
Abhaykumar finally smiled. His friend had passed the test. He then told Vadirsaar about his conversation with the Yakshini and how he was just testing his resolve. “I am blessed to have a friend like you, Vadirsaar. The Yakshini told me that because of this oath, you will go to heaven.”
“Heaven! Just because of leaving one type of meat?” Vadirsaar said, his eyes widening. “If a small oath can make me a dev in heaven, then I can’t imagine what will happen if I leave violence and hunting forever.”
In that moment, a profound realization dawned on him. He took another vow: “I hereby leave all types of meat and accept non-violence, in memory of that great tapasvi.”
Seeing the unwavering faith of his friend and the miraculous result of a single vow, Abhaykumar also decided to give up hunting and meat, embracing a life of non-violence.
Moral of the Story
Even a small vow of kindness can change your life.
Vadirsaar’s oath to give up one type of meat, while seemingly minor, was a huge act of discipline and compassion. His unwavering commitment to this promise—even when it meant risking his life—demonstrated a deep spiritual strength.
The story teaches us that true liberation begins with a single step. It’s not about grand gestures but about the sincerity of our actions. By honoring his small vow, Vadirsaar gained the wisdom to embrace the ultimate principle of Jainism: non-violence toward all living beings. His story shows that even a small act of self-control can lead to a great spiritual transformation.
Dear reader, let’s take a step forward to be compassionate and kind to all living beings.
Reference: Jain Dharm ki Kahaniyaan Part-2
