Ancient Legends. Tatiana Edel

you have done. You took the stone woman from her place and offended her by grinding your knives upon her.

      She was not placed in the steppe by you, nor was she meant for your selfish needs. She is the Sacred Guardian of the Chalice. For centuries, she granted strength and protection to warriors, and in return, they offered sacrifices – rams, and even human lives – to earn her favor. She has watched over the steppe for ages. Now… I do not know what will happen. But I fear a great disaster is coming. And you will be to blame. Look! The ravens have gathered, circling above your village. They wait for their sacrifice. If you have any sense, if you have any conscience left – go, find her, and beg for forgiveness!”

      Having spoken, the old traveler continued on his way.

      “I won’t go anywhere,” the man muttered. “Nonsense! She’s just a statue – what can she do?” Still, he abandoned his plan to drag her home again.

      The next morning, a terrible wind arose. A dust storm swept across the land, carrying sharp thorns from the steppe. The animals went blind, howling and bellowing in pain. The villagers wrapped their faces in cloth, desperately trying to lead their herds into the barns, but the gates were torn apart by the raging storm. They say, when trouble comes, throw open the gates.

      Well, the gates had opened themselves. His wife wept. “Go to her! Beg for her forgiveness!” she pleaded. At last, fear took hold of him. He wrapped his face, took a staff for support, and walked into the storm. He wandered for hours, growing weak. The statue was nowhere to be seen. At last, he reached the mountains and began to climb, believing that a sacred force was guiding him.

      The wind began to ease. The dust grew thinner.

      He loosened his cloth slightly and saw the deepest blue sky, the snowy peaks, and – far in the distance – a man standing, releasing red paper horses into the wind. The man rejoiced, sensing that these horses would lead him to his path. He ran after them, as fast as he could. Before he knew it, he was back in the steppe. And there – the red paper horse landed directly in the stone woman’s chalice.

      He fell to his knees before her. “Forgive me!” he begged. The stone woman said nothing. Did she forgive him? Or not?

      “Enough of this,” he thought. “I won’t grovel before a lifeless rock.” He turned to leave. At that moment, a whirlwind of dust and darkness surrounded him. He fell to the ground, pleading again. The storm calmed.

      For ten days, he remained by the statue’s side. He grew weaker and weaker. At last, the villagers came to his aid. They stood in a circle around the statue, offering prayers for protection, for blessing upon their land, and giving thanks for her strength and watchful gaze.

      The Guardian of the Chalice released them in peace. And the greedy man? She taught him a lesson he would never forget:

      Do not mock the sacred. And when you have sinned, learn to repent.

      The Victorious Buddha

      Do you know who Buddha is? Let me tell you about him.

      Long ago, two and a half thousand years ago, a long-awaited son was born to an Indian raja and Queen Mahamaya – a noble heir to the Shakya clan. They named him Siddhartha Gautama. The royal couple’s joy knew no bounds. But on the seventh day after his birth, the queen passed away.

      The king grieved deeply and feared for his son’s future. He summoned the most renowned astrologer to predict the child’s fate. The scholar studied the stars for a long time, drawing lines on paper, then finally spoke:

      “The prince possesses extraordinary qualities. If he is allowed to grow freely and experience life in its fullness, he will become a great Enlightened One – a Teacher to millions.”

      “But I need an heir – a protector of my kingdom, not a spiritual teacher!” the king retorted angrily.

      “Then you must shield him for as long as possible from the realities and sufferings of human life,” the astrologer advised.

      The king immediately issued a decree: “Until the prince turns twenty, he shall not leave the royal palace!” And so, Siddhartha grew up in luxury and peace, unaware of human sorrow or misfortune. When he turned twenty, the gates of the palace were finally opened so he could see the world in all its diversity.

      Curious, the prince eagerly explored the unknown world, until he suddenly stopped in astonishment. A hunched old woman, wrapped in rags, hobbled toward him, leaning on a staff.

      “Who is that?” he asked.

      “That is old age,” they told him.

      “Does it come to everyone?” the young man asked in horror.

      “Yes, such is life,” his servant replied.

      On the next street, they came across a man locked in a pen, sitting alone, his face disfigured.

      “And who is this?” the prince asked. “Why is he imprisoned?”

      “This man suffers from a terrible disease. He was isolated so he wouldn’t infect others. Leprosy is slowly eating away at his face,” they answered.

      “What else do I not know?” the prince wondered.

      As if in silent response, a funeral procession appeared at the end of the road.

      “Where are these people going?” Siddhartha asked.

      “They are taking the deceased to the cemetery for burial.”

      “Does this fate await everyone?” the prince exclaimed in horror.

      “Yes, such is life,” they answered again.

      A great shadow seemed to fall over Siddhartha’s heart. He returned to the palace, locking himself away for many months, lost in thought. Fearing his son’s unpredictable actions, the king ordered his immediate marriage. Siddhartha obeyed his father’s will and married a beautiful woman. A few years later, they had a son.

      But even as a husband and father, Siddhartha felt restless.

      At twenty-nine, he left his home behind, setting out on a journey to find true, unending happiness. For the last time, he gazed upon his baby son, then dressed in simple robes, shaved his head, and left the palace forever. He wandered from city to city, from village to village, but Enlightenment did not come. He decided to fast – to abandon food completely. Soon, his body was nothing but skin and bones.