The Brahmin and the Mongoose

In a small village on the edge of a dense forest lived a poor Brahmin named Haridatta and his wife. For many years, they longed for a child but were not blessed with one. Their modest home felt empty without the laughter and joy of children.

One day, a baby mongoose was orphaned when a snake killed its mother. Taking pity on the tiny creature, Haridatta brought it home. “We will raise this little one as our own,” he told his wife. “Perhaps this is the child we’ve been waiting for.”

His wife agreed, and they named the mongoose Sanjaya. They cared for him with all the love they would have given to a human child. Sanjaya grew into a loyal and intelligent companion, following the Brahmin’s wife everywhere like a protective shadow. His reddish-brown fur was always well-groomed, and his bright eyes missed nothing that happened in the household.

Years passed, and eventually, the couple was blessed with a baby boy. Their joy knew no bounds, but they continued to love Sanjaya just as much as before. The mongoose, in turn, became fiercely protective of the infant, watching over the baby when he slept and playing with him when he was awake.

One afternoon, the Brahmin’s wife needed to fetch water from the village well. “I must go now,” she told Sanjaya, who was sitting near the sleeping baby. “Guard him well until I return.”

Sanjaya positioned himself at the entrance of the room, his eyes never leaving the cradle. As the minutes passed, he noticed a slight movement near the wall. A black cobra had slithered into the house, its hood spread wide as it approached the cradle.

Without hesitation, Sanjaya sprang into action. He attacked the snake with all his might, biting and clawing until the deadly cobra lay dead on the floor. The battle was fierce, and blood from the snake splattered everywhere—on the floor, the walls, and on Sanjaya himself.

Proud of having protected the baby, Sanjaya waited at the door for his mistress to return. When he saw her approaching with the water pot, he ran to greet her, his mouth and paws still stained with blood.

The Brahmin’s wife took one look at the blood-covered mongoose rushing toward her and jumped to a terrible conclusion. “The monster has killed my baby!” she screamed, dropping her water pot. In her panic and without a moment’s thought, she threw the heavy pot at Sanjaya, striking him with such force that he died instantly.

With her heart pounding, she rushed into the house, fearing the worst. But there was her baby, sleeping peacefully in the cradle, completely unharmed. And beside the cradle lay the mangled body of the cobra.

The truth dawned on her with crushing weight. Sanjaya had not harmed the child—he had saved him from the deadly snake. Overcome with grief and remorse, she cradled the mongoose’s broken body in her arms.

When Haridatta returned home, he found his wife inconsolable. Through her tears, she told him what had happened. “I acted without thinking,” she sobbed. “Sanjaya gave his life to protect our child, and I repaid his loyalty with death.”

The Brahmin, though heartbroken, spoke gently to his wife. “This is the price of hasty action,” he said. “When we act before understanding the full truth, we often cause harm that cannot be undone. Sanjaya deserved our gratitude, not our punishment.”

They buried the faithful mongoose under the neem tree in their garden, placing flowers on his grave. From that day forward, the Brahmin would tell anyone who would listen about their brave Sanjaya and the terrible mistake they had made.

“Never act in haste,” he would say. “A moment’s patience can prevent a lifetime of regret.”