The Goat Who Laughed and Wept

Long ago, the Buddha was staying in the Jetavana grove. In this narrative’s opening, people hold a ceremony called the Feast for the Dead, in honour of their relatives who had died. For this feast they killed goats, sheep and other animals and offered them up.

The Buddha’s followers saw this happening and came to ask him about it. “Teacher,” they said, “people are killing a great many animals for this Feast for the Dead. Can any good come from it?”

“No,” said the Buddha. “No good ever comes from taking a life, not even for a feast in honour of the dead. Long ago, wise beings taught the whole land to give up this custom. But people have forgotten what they learned, and so the custom has come back.” And he told them this story from the past.

Long, long ago, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, there lived a Brahmin who was deeply learned in three Vedas. He was a teacher, famous all over the world. One day he decided to hold a Feast for the Dead, so he had a goat brought to him and said to his pupils, “My boys, take this goat down to the river and bathe it. Then hang a garland of flowers round its neck, give it a basket of grain to eat, brush its coat a little, and bring it back to me.”

“Yes, teacher,” they said, and they led the goat down to the river. There they washed it and brushed it and set it on the bank.

As the goat stood there, it suddenly remembered all its past lives. And it was filled with joy, because it knew that on this very day all its suffering would come to an end. So it laughed, a great laugh as loud as a clay pot smashing on the ground. Then it thought about the Brahmin. “If he kills me, he will have to suffer just as I have suffered,” it thought. It felt so sorry for him that it began to weep, loudly and bitterly.

“Friend goat,” said the young pupils, “first you laughed so loudly and now you are weeping just as loudly. Why did you laugh, and why are you weeping?”

“Ask me that in front of your teacher,” said the goat.

So they took the goat back and told their teacher what had happened. The Brahmin listened, and then he asked the goat himself, “Goat, why did you laugh, and why did you weep?”

The goat could remember everything it had done in its earlier lives, and it answered him. “Brahmin, long ago I was a Brahmin just like you, a scholar of the holy verses. I too wanted to hold a Feast for the Dead, and I killed a goat to offer it up. Because I killed that one goat, I have lost my life in the same way four hundred and ninety-nine times. This is my five hundredth life, and my last. When I thought, ‘Today my suffering ends,’ I was glad, and so I laughed. But then I thought, ‘I killed one goat and suffered for five hundred lives. Now my suffering is ending, but if this Brahmin kills me, he will suffer for five hundred lives too.’ I was so sorry for you that I wept.”

“Do not be afraid, goat,” said the Brahmin. “I will not kill you.”

“What are you saying, Brahmin?” said the goat. “Whether you kill me or not, I cannot escape death today.”

“Do not be afraid,” said the Brahmin. “I will stay beside you and guard you.”

“Your protection is weak, Brahmin,” said the goat, “and the force of the wrong I did long ago is strong.”

The Brahmin set the goat free. “Let no one kill this goat,” he told his pupils, and he and the young men followed it everywhere it went. The goat wandered over to a rock where a bush grew near the top, and it stretched out its neck to nibble the leaves. At that very moment, lightning struck the rock. A great piece broke off and fell on the goat, and the goat died right there. A crowd of people came running to see.

Now in that same place there grew a tree, and the spirit who lived in the tree was the Buddha in one of his earlier lives. Using his special powers, he rose up and sat cross-legged in the air, where the whole crowd could see him. “If only these people understood what comes of doing harm,” he thought, “perhaps they would stop killing.” And in a sweet voice he taught them with this verse:

“If people only knew the price, That a life of sorrow follows, No living thing would kill another. Hard is the fate of those who kill.”

The people trembled when they heard him, and from that day on they stopped taking life. The tree spirit taught them how to live good lives, and they followed his teaching. They gave to those in need and did many other kind deeds for the rest of their days.

When the Buddha had finished the story, he told his followers who the tree spirit really was. “In those days,” he said, “I was the spirit of that tree.”

Where this story comes from

This story is a Jataka, part of the Buddhist collection of narratives about the Buddha’s earlier lives. It is number 18 in the collection, the Matakabhatta Jataka, whose name means “food for the dead.” This printed version opens with an occasion in the Buddha’s teaching life, moves into an earlier-life story, and ends by identifying the tree spirit with the Buddha.

This retelling follows the English translation by Robert Chalmers in volume one of The Jataka, or Stories of the Buddha’s Former Births, edited by E. B. Cowell (Cambridge, 1895). Some modern versions make the goat’s owner a king, but in the Jataka he is a Brahmin teacher.

Read the original: E. B. Cowell (ed.), The Jataka, Vol. I, No. 18: Matakabhatta-Jataka, translated by Robert Chalmers (1895)

Reading guidance: For ages 9–12 with an adult. The story describes repeated deaths in past lives, an intended animal sacrifice and the goat’s fatal accident despite attempted protection.

A closer reading

The goat’s two emotions have different objects: relief for itself and compassion for the person preparing to kill it. That second response reverses the expected relationship between victim and sacrificer. The teacher and pupils become listeners, and the animal supplies the knowledge they lack.

The Brahmin’s change of heart does not prevent the falling rock, but it still prevents him from choosing to kill. The tale distinguishes a consequence it presents as already fixed from a new act that can be avoided. Its account of past-life punishment is a religious narrative, not evidence that an injured person or animal must have deserved harm.

The outer frame matters: the earlier community stopped killing, but the practice has returned by the time the Buddha’s followers ask their question. The story therefore makes teaching and remembrance ongoing responsibilities, rather than claiming one lesson permanently solved the problem.

Try this with the story

Draw two frames, one for the Buddha’s followers and one for the goat’s audience. In each, identify a question, a teacher and a possible change of action. Explain why the Brahmin’s decision matters even though he cannot save the goat in this telling.

Talk about it

• Why did the goat laugh, and why did it weep straight afterwards?
• The Brahmin tried to protect the goat. Why couldn’t he?
• What did the tree spirit want the people to learn?

More stories like this

• The Banyan Deer (Nigrodhamiga Jataka) — another Jataka in which the Buddha, in an earlier life, saves animals from being killed
• The Gray Hair — another short Jataka about a lesson that changes a life
• King Shibi and the Dove — an Indian tale about protecting a helpless creature