There was once an old Brahmin who owned a beautiful garden. He loved the garden dearly and spent a lot of time tending to it. But he was very selfish. He did not want to share his beautiful garden with anyone. Not even the birds. He especially hated the parrots that ate away the sunflower seeds. He would shout and chase them away.

The mischievous village boys loved to tease the old man.

“Why did you shoo away the parrots?” teased the boys “They were your guests and you, a Brahmin, should not be rude to your guests!”

“Guests! Humph!” the Brahmin grumbled.  “I don’t want any pesky birds in my garden.  Nor for that matter, do I want any of you brats in my garden!”  and the angry Brahmin chased the boys out with his stick.

And so the days went by.  One day, when the Brahmin came out to see how his mango saplings were doing, he found to his utter dismay that a stray cow had wandered into his garden and was eating the saplings that he had planted with so much care. In a fit of rage, the Brahmin began to beat the cow with his stick. The old thin cow couldn’t take the beating and dropped dead on the spot.

“Oh God! What have I done! I have killed a cow,” the Brahmin lamented.

The news reached the villagers and they came to the Brahmin’s house. “You have committed the greatest of sins by killing a cow,” one of them scolded.  “You have put your garden above the life of the cow.” Another villager added, “The cow gives us milk. She is our mother and you killed her!”

“What kind of hand is yours that can kill a cow?” the village leader asked. “You will have to suffer the consequences for what you have done.  We are leaving now, but we will be back.”

“They will throw me out of the village. What shall I do?” the Brahmin thought.

Suddenly he had an idea.  “Lord Indra is the one that guides the hand,” he thought to himself.  “So it is Indra, not me, that should be blamed for killing the cow.  Yes, I will tell the villagers that!”

The villagers were not sure what to make of the Brahmin’s argument.  It was indeed true that Lord Indra is the presiding deity over the hand.  Did that mean that the Brahmin should not be blamed for killing the cow?

The question was debated far and wide.  Ultimately, Indra himself heard of the Brahmin’s argument.  He was troubled by the Brahmin’s logic and decided to pay him a visit.  Taking the form of an old man, Indra casually came into the Brahmin’s garden.

“Sir, I am a stranger to this town,” Indra said to the Brahmin.  “I was just passing this way and I noticed this beautiful garden. Did you build it all by yourself?”

The Brahmin was greatly flattered.  “Yes, with my own hands. I have tended to this garden like it is my own child.”

“I can see that!” Indra replied.  “And how about this beautiful path?  Did you lay it too?”

“Oh yes !” the Brahmin replied with great pride. “I laid it myself with lots of planning.”

“And this beautiful tree?” Indra continued.  “Did you plant it yourself?”

“Yes, indeed!” the Brahmin proclaimed.  “From seed to fruit, it is all my work!”

“And how about the fountain?” questioned Indra.

 “Everything you see here was set up by me with my own hands,” the Brahmin boasted.

At this, Indra revealed himself to the Brahmin and said, “Oh Brahmin, if you take the credit for setting up your garden with your own hands, then you should take the blame for killing the cow too! Why blame poor Indra for that?”

You are solely responsible for your acts