Sarambha Jataka

The Buddha told this Jataka, No. 88 of the Pali canon, while residing at Savatthi, as part of his instruction against the use of abusive and harsh language. The Teacher explained that even in a former life, when he himself was an ox, unkind words cost his owner a fortune, while gentle speech restored it, and in closing he identified the people of that ancient tale with those seated before him.

In the kingdom of Gandhara, in the city of Takkasila, there lived a brahmin known for his piety, to whom the owners of a young calf made a gift, for it was the custom of herdsmen to present oxen to holy men of good repute. The calf, whom the brahmin named Sarambha, was none other than the Bodhisatta. The brahmin raised him with the devotion of a father, feeding him rice-gruel and choice rice, so that the calf grew into a magnificent ox of tremendous strength.

When Sarambha had grown to his full power, he considered how he might repay the brahmin who had reared him with such care. He spoke to his master in human speech: 'Go, brahmin, to some merchant rich in herds, and wager him a thousand pieces of money that your ox can draw a hundred loaded carts in a single pull.' Delighted, the brahmin sought out a wealthy merchant, proposed the contest, and the merchant readily agreed, for he could not believe that any single ox could move so great a train.

The merchant's men lined up a hundred carts, one behind another, each heavily loaded with sand, gravel, and stone, and harnessed Sarambha to draw the entire burden at once. A crowd gathered to watch, including the brahmin's own household, for word of so grand a wager had spread through the city.

Eager for the contest to succeed and swept up in excitement, the brahmin seized a goad and shouted at his ox before the assembled crowd: 'Now then, you rascal! Pull them along, you rascal!' These harsh and demeaning words struck Sarambha to the heart, for he had done nothing to deserve such abuse from the very master he sought to benefit. Though he was fully capable of the task, he planted his feet and would not move an inch, no matter how the brahmin struck and shouted. The merchant claimed his winnings, and the brahmin returned home in despair, having lost the entire thousand pieces.

Seeing his master so distressed, Sarambha asked him gently: 'Brahmin, in all the time I have lived in your house, have I ever broken a pot, or pushed against anyone, or made a mess of anything?' The brahmin admitted that he had not. 'Then why,' asked the ox, 'did you call me rascal before the whole city? It was your harsh words, not any want of strength, that cost you the wager. Go again tomorrow, wager two thousand pieces this time, and speak to me only with kindness.'

Taking this counsel to heart, the brahmin returned to the merchant the next day and proposed a second wager, this time for two thousand pieces, wagering that his ox could still draw the hundred carts. The merchant, confident after his earlier win, agreed at once, and the same long train of laden carts was again made ready before the gathered onlookers.

This time the brahmin approached Sarambha with tenderness, patted his flank, and called out before the crowd: 'Now then, my fine fellow! Pull them along, my fine fellow!' Stirred by these kind and respectful words, Sarambha threw his full strength into the harness and drew all one hundred carts forward in a single mighty pull, to the astonishment of the merchant and the admiration of the onlookers. The merchant paid his wager in full, and many in the crowd, moved by the display, added further gifts of their own, so that the brahmin returned home far richer than before.

Reflecting on this episode, the Buddha spoke the verse that distilled its teaching: speak kindly, and do not revile your fellow creatures, for love of kindness brings reward, while reviling breeds only sorrow and loss. The ox who could not be moved by abuse had given his whole strength gladly the moment he was addressed with respect.

Concluding the tale, the Buddha identified the people in the story: Ananda was the brahmin of those days, Uppalavanna was the brahmin's wife, and the Buddha himself had been Sarambha the ox.

This Jataka No. 88 endures as a direct and practical teaching on the power of speech, deliberately echoing the better-known Nandivisala Jataka, another tale of an ox wronged by harsh words and restored by kind ones, so that the same lesson lands twice, once in each telling. Sarambha possessed the same strength before and after the first wager was lost; nothing about his body had changed, only the words spoken to him. The Buddha used this ancient episode to teach his listeners, monks and laypeople alike, that abusive language can paralyze even willing effort, while words of genuine kindness can draw out strength that harshness could never command, a lesson as true for human relationships as it was for a brahmin and his devoted ox.