Thai Children's Favorite Stories
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“Free me, Phra Tiger. If I don’t start building your raft now, it won’t be ready in time.”
“I’ll free you,” said the tiger, “but don’t try to escape or I’ll swallow you in one gulp.”
The old man did not try to get away. He quickly gathered sturdy rattan grass and twined it into a rope. He used the rope to tie some logs together to make a raft that was just big enough to hold the enormous tiger.
“Hurry, Phra Tiger,” he called. “There isn’t much time before the sky darkens and the rain clouds burst.”
The tiger lay on the raft and growled, “Tie me securely now. Don’t do a careless job.”
“Chai, chai, yes, yes, Phra Tiger,” the old man said.
As the old man tied the last knot, securely binding the tiger to the raft, he smiled and said, “You are a lucky tiger. No matter how much it rains, you will be safe.”
The tiger purred like a contented house cat. The old man placed both his hands together, bowed low before the captured tiger, and said politely, “Sawaddi, good day, Phra Tiger.”
That night the sky darkened, but it did not rain. The next day it did not rain either. The poor tiger was hungry and very sleepy. As each hour passed, he grew angrier and angrier. When two rising suns had burned the mist off two mornings, the tiger knew the old man had tricked him.
The tiger wriggled and squirmed, twisted and turned. With each movement he made, the slender rattan ropes cut more deeply into his beautiful golden coat. Finally, with a savage, desperate surge of energy he freed himself from the rattan ties that had bound him up.
Oh, he was a ragged-looking tiger. His beautiful golden coat was ripped and slashed where the rattan had held him to the raft.
The tiger never recovered from the old man’s trick. He repaired his coat but he could not hide the black slashes where his fur had been sewn back together. From that day on, the tiger of Thailand has worn a golden coat striped with the bold black scars of his unfortunate meeting with the old man of the jungle.
As for the old man, he decided to get along without the long-handled coconut knife. “After all,” he said, “there are more important things in life than coconuts.”
The Footprint of the Buddha
Many years ago there was a group of young Buddhist monks who lived in a temple in Siam. They decided to make a religious pilgrimage to the footprint of Buddha on the crest of Adam’s Mountain in Ceylon. The great father of their wat warned the young monks to be careful. “The journey to Ceylon is dangerous,” he said. “Snakes, crocodiles and tigers will cross your path.”
“We are not afraid. We believe in Buddha’s goodness,” they answered. “Look, our legs are as sturdy as the branches on the teak tree. Our faith and our feet will carry us through the jungles to the true footprint of Buddha.”
Their departure was a beautiful sight to see. The monks’ golden robes gleamed in the sunlight and fluttered like banners in the tropical breeze. The very grass they stepped upon seemed to glitter green with the touch of their bare feet. The elder monks beat the gongs in the wat and the metallic booms resounded with a pulsing rhythm, announcing to everyone that the young brothers of the priesthood were beginning a holy journey.
Each morning the monks woke before dawn and walked from village to village. The farmers gave them food most willingly, for they gained religious merit by placing a serving of rice in the monks’ bowls. Day ran after day and finally the monks reached their destination, the shrine of the sacred footprint in Ceylon. The Ceylonese monks were surprised to see their brothers from Siam. “Were you not afraid to travel all alone in the jungle?” they asked.
“We were not afraid. We believed in Buddha’s goodness,” they answered.
The monks from Siam placed red, white and yellow flowers before the shrine of the footprint. Near the flowers they lighted sticks of incense, making the air sweet and heavy with delicate fragrance. As they said prayers of thankfulness, they bowed low and kissed the sacred earth where Buddha had once stood.
When they arose the Ceylonese monks said, “Why have you come here to worship our footprint of Buddha? Our ancient scriptures tell us there is a footprint of Buddha located upon the Golden Hill in your country.”
The Siamese monks doubted this. “It cannot be true.”
The Ceylonese monks said, “Our ancient scriptures prove our words. Look, the holy writing on the dried palm leaves tells of a footprint of Buddha on the Golden Hill in Siam.”
The Siamese monks hurried home so fast that at times their golden robes seemed like fluttering wings of birds floating through the jungle. They told King Song Dharm about their miraculous discovery.
The king was very happy and immediately began the search for the footprint of Buddha.
The king’s men looked on Golden Hill and on all the mountains and in every valley, but they could not find the footprint.
Day ran after day. The grasses grew tall in the tropical sun. The trees stretched their limbs to greater heights. The river flowed into an ebbing sea and the ancient country of Siam grew older with each setting of the red-tinted sun. The young monks who had made the long journey to Ceylon were now the great fathers of their wat. Their brown bodies were as wrinkled as the withered palm leaves that told of Buddha’s footprint. Their voices were a faint whisper now, but they never stopped talking about the footprint. “It is lost like a ruby in a basket of rice. We must sift each grain to find our country’s lost treasure.”
Some people doubted and accused the monks of hearing a story, tucking it under their arm and walking away with it, which is a Siamese way of saying the story is not true. Although many doubted, the monks said every day, “We will find the footprint. Believe in Buddha’s goodness.”
Their faith was rewarded, for one day a farmer ran into their wat shouting like a dancer at a rice festival, “Boon found it! Boon found the footprint of Buddha. Come to Saraburi. Hurry, he is going to tell us how it happened!”
The old monks hobbled as fast as their bare feet and aged limbs could carry them. When they arrived in Saraburi, they found the hunter, Boon, in the market square with a crowd of curious people gathered around him. As Boon began to speak, the crowd hushed. The old monks leaned forward to hear each word.
Boon said, “I was hunting a small spotted deer with my crossbow on Golden Hill. The deer paused for a moment, I aimed, and let my bamboo arrow fly. It pierced the flesh, and blood ran from the wound like tears of death. The deer didn’t fall to the ground. He limped into a thicket of tall green grass. I ran after him, but before I could catch up with him, he bounded from the grass as though he’d never been wounded. I was even more surprised when I saw that my arrow was not in his side and his wound was gone.
“I followed the spots of red upon the earth. They led me to a pool of clear water. It was like a sapphire glittering in the sun. All around it the moss curled rich and green. The deer’s footprints stopped by the little pool. I thought the deer must have stopped to drink so I, too, paused to drink some of the water. One swallow of the water cooled my body and made me feel as clean as a white lotus.
“Suddenly, I felt very well. All my life I have had pain in my arms, but the pain disappeared and I felt as strong as an elephant pulling teak logs.
“I was dizzy with delight. I splashed in the pool until all the water had spilled out onto the ground. There, at the bottom, I found the imprint of a human foot. It is the footprint of our Lord Buddha.”
The monks’ hearts beat faster with every word Boon uttered. The light of contentment gleamed in their eyes. It is said they climbed the Golden Hill with a determined stride like the young monks of old who had climbed Adam’s Mountain in Ceylon. Their lips uttered the prayers of thankfulness that overflowed from their hearts.
People still speak of the great surge of joy that filled the hearts of everyone in old Siam on that wonderful day long ago. From that day to this, the footprint of Buddha has been a sacred treasure. It reminds everyone of Buddha’s faith in the goodness of man.
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br /> Glossary
chai
yes; that is right
chingchok
a small lizard found in Southeast Asia
chula
the name given to the male kite in the Thai sport of kite fighting. The chula is a large, star-shaped kite with five points. It is flown on a long string.
Kathin
a holiday honoring Buddhist monks, held after the rain season and the plowing of the rice fields
klong
canals that serve as water roads, providing arteries for travel and transportation in cities and in the countryside
kwan
the personal spirit residing in the head; a being responsible for health, wealth and general comfort
mai chai
no; that is not right
mai pen rai
never mind; it doesn’t matter; don’t worry
mai ruu
I don’t know
namprik
a pungent, spicy sauce made from a carefully blended mixture of seasonings, water and a small black beetle that the Thais call maengda
pai
go now
pakpao
the name given to the female kite in the Thai sport of kite fighting. The pakpao is a small, dainty kite with a long tail. It is frequently made in the shape of a diamond.
Phra
an honorary title, meaning “sacred one” or “honored one”
Phra Phum
the sacred spirit of a Thai dwelling, meaning “the spirit of the place”
ramwong
a graceful Thai folk dance
rawang
be careful; watch what you are doing; observe closely
Siam
the old name for Thailand
sawaddi
hello; how do you do; goodbye
wat
a Buddhist temple
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Text Copyright © 2019 Marian D. Toth
Illustrations © 2019 Patcharee Meesukhon
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