Giving so to others may live

Giving so to others may live - The Power of Sacrifice 

Sacrifice is in the very order of nature. if the seed didn’t sacrifice itself, it wouldn’t become a seedling. The bud dies so that the flower can bloom, and the flower dies to yield fruit. Human society too progresses only to the extent it is willing to sacrifice for the larger good
 

 

Have you heard the story of Punyakoti, the noble cow who kept her tryst with a tiger because she had given her word to the beast? Punyakoti, once waylaid by the hungry tiger in the forest, is almost devoured by the latter but she implores the tiger to give her time off to go feed her calves who are waiting for her at home. She promises to come back to the forest and offer herself as food to the tiger once she has done her duty by them. Intrigued by this unusual promise and impressed with Punyakoti’s sincerity, the tiger lets her go, more or less reconciling to finding another prey for the day. However, to his amazement, Punyakoti comes back after making suitable arrangements for her calves to be taken care of after her death. “Why did you come back?” asks the nonplussed tiger, “only to be killed and eaten up by me, when you could have easily escaped?” “I am your food for the day,” says she, “how can I deny you your right? It is your dharma to kill and eat, and my dharma to uphold dharma – irrespective of whether it is yours or mine. I had given you my word, hadn’t I? Now please feast on me as much as you wish.” The tiger, shaken to the core by Punyakoti’s sincerity and implicit adherence to ‘dharma’, is instantly transformed. He jumps off a high cliff and kills himself rather than continue leading a life of killing.

I remember there wasn’t a single dry eye in the 7th Standard class when this Kannada poem was recited and explained dramatically by our teacher. Back then, Punyakoti moved innocent 12-year-olds to tears year after year. We sobbed at the vision of her helpless calves imploring her to stay back, cursed the tiger for choosing her as his food, and sobbed again as the tiger jumped off the cliff unable to bear so much goodness. Now, the larger and nobler aspects of Punyakoti’s story appeal to me – her selflessness, sincerity and commitment to ‘truth’ that could melt the heart of a beast. She had no agenda for her own survival; being the tiger’s food for the day came as naturally to her as caring for her calves. Punyakoti, for me, is the epitome of sacrifice.

And so are Mother Teresa, Bhagat Singh, and my housekeeper’s son who walks to school so that he may save the bus fare to buy a candy for his younger sister.

What is it about sacrifice, large or small or insignificant, that tugs at our hearts and leaves the sacrificer ennobled in our eyes? Why is ‘sacrifice’ highly rated as a virtue, worthy of being developed and emulated? How can an entire religion be sustained by the figure of Christ nailed to a cross? Surely a matter worth exploration.