The Lion and the Rabbit

In a dense forest where tall trees created a canopy so thick that even the brightest sunlight could barely penetrate to the ground, there lived a terrible lion named Bhasuraka. This lion was not content with hunting for his food like other lions—instead, he had become a tyrant who killed for the mere pleasure of killing.

Every day, Bhasuraka would roam through the forest, roaring his mighty roar and attacking any animal he encountered, whether he was hungry or not. He would kill deer, rabbits, peacocks, and even other predators, leaving their bodies scattered throughout the forest as a reminder of his power.

The forest animals lived in constant terror. Mothers could not let their children play freely, and no animal dared to venture far from their hiding places. The once-joyful forest, where animals had lived peacefully together, had become a place of fear and sorrow.

Finally, the situation became so unbearable that all the animals decided to hold a great meeting to find a solution to their problem. Representatives from every species gathered in a secret clearing deep in the forest—elephants and mice, tigers and rabbits, eagles and sparrows, all united by their desperate need to find a way to deal with the murderous lion.

“We cannot continue living like this,” declared the old elephant, who served as the unofficial leader of the forest council. “Bhasuraka is destroying our entire community. If we don’t act soon, there will be no animals left in this forest.”

“But what can we do?” asked a trembling deer. “He is the strongest creature in the forest. None of us can fight him and win.”

Many suggestions were made. Some animals proposed that they should all leave the forest and find a new home, but the wise old elephant pointed out that this forest was their ancestral home, and they should not be driven away by one evil creature. Others suggested that they should ask the king of a nearby human settlement for help, but the tiger reminded them that humans were often just as dangerous to forest animals as Bhasuraka was.

It was then that a small, calm voice spoke up from the back of the gathering. “I have an idea,” said Lambakarna, a young rabbit who was known for his intelligence and thoughtful nature.

Some of the larger animals scoffed at the idea that a small rabbit could solve a problem that had stumped everyone else. But the elephant, who was wise enough to know that good ideas could come from anyone, regardless of size, asked Lambakarna to share his thoughts.

“We cannot defeat Bhasuraka through force,” the rabbit said quietly, “but perhaps we can defeat him through strategy. I propose that we make an agreement with him—a kind of treaty that might actually appeal to his lazy and greedy nature.”

“What kind of agreement?” asked the suspicious tiger.

Lambakarna explained his plan carefully. “We should send a delegation to Bhasuraka and propose that instead of him hunting and killing randomly throughout the forest, we will provide him with one animal each day. This animal will come to him voluntarily, so he won’t have to waste energy hunting. In return, he must promise not to kill any other animals.”

Many animals were horrified by this suggestion. “You want us to sacrifice one of our own every day?” cried a peacock. “How is that any better than what’s happening now?”

“Listen to the complete plan,” Lambakarna said patiently. “We will take turns sending one animal from each species, chosen by lottery. This way, instead of Bhasuraka killing dozens of animals randomly every day, only one will die each day, and it will be fair to all species. More importantly, this arrangement will give us time to prepare a permanent solution.”

The animals debated this proposal throughout the night. It was not a perfect solution, but it was better than the current chaos. Eventually, they agreed to try Lambakarna’s plan.

The next morning, a delegation of animals approached Bhasuraka’s den. The lion was surprised to see them coming voluntarily, since most animals ran away at the mere sight of him.

The elephant, speaking for the group, addressed the lion respectfully but firmly: “Great Bhasuraka, we have come to make a proposal that we believe will benefit both you and all the forest animals.”

Bhasuraka listened with interest as the plan was explained to him. The idea of having food delivered to him without any effort on his part appealed to his lazy nature. “Very well,” he agreed, “but I warn you—if you ever fail to send me an animal on any day, I will kill twice as many animals the next day as punishment.”

The agreement was made, and for several weeks, it worked exactly as planned. Each day, one animal chosen by lottery would go to Bhasuraka’s den, and the lion would leave all other animals alone. The forest became more peaceful, though the daily sacrifice cast a shadow over everyone’s lives.

During this time, Lambakarna was not idle. He spent his days carefully observing Bhasuraka’s habits, studying the geography of the forest, and developing the second part of his plan—the part he had not yet revealed to the other animals.

Finally, the day came when Lambakarna’s own name was drawn in the lottery. Many animals felt sad that the clever rabbit who had given them some respite from the terror would now have to sacrifice his life.

“Don’t worry,” Lambakarna told them with a mysterious smile. “I have been waiting for this day. Trust me, and by tomorrow, our problems with Bhasuraka will be solved forever.”

Instead of going directly to the lion’s den early in the morning as the other animals had done, Lambakarna waited until late afternoon. He knew that by this time, Bhasuraka would be extremely hungry and angry at the delay.

When the rabbit finally arrived at the lion’s den, Bhasuraka was pacing back and forth in a fury. “Where have you been, you miserable creature?” he roared. “I have been waiting all day for my food! How dare you make me wait!”

Lambakarna bowed respectfully and replied in a frightened voice, “Oh great king of the forest, please forgive the delay. It is not my fault. I left early this morning to come to you, as all the other animals have done, but on the way, I encountered another lion who stopped me.”

“Another lion?” Bhasuraka’s eyes blazed with rage. “What do you mean, another lion? I am the only lion in this forest!”

“That’s exactly what I told him, great king,” Lambakarna replied, trembling convincingly. “But he laughed at me and said that he was the real king of this forest, and that you were just a pretender. He said that you were weak and cowardly, and that he could defeat you easily in a fight.”

Bhasuraka’s roar of anger shook the very trees. “Where is this insolent fool? Take me to him immediately! I will show him who is the real king of this forest!”

“Oh sir,” Lambakarna said with apparent reluctance, “I don’t think that would be wise. This other lion is very large and fierce. He has a magnificent mane and terrible claws. He told me that if you were brave enough to face him, you could find him at the old well in the center of the forest. But honestly, I think you should be careful. He seemed very confident of his abilities.”

The suggestion that he should be careful only made Bhasuraka angrier. “Lead me to this well immediately!” he commanded. “I will tear this upstart to pieces!”

Lambakarna pretended to be reluctant but finally agreed to show Bhasuraka the way. He led the furious lion through the forest to an ancient well that was very deep and had perfectly smooth stone walls. The water at the bottom was so still and clear that it acted like a perfect mirror.

“He is down in this well,” Lambakarna told Bhasuraka. “He said he was waiting for you there.”

Bhasuraka rushed to the edge of the well and looked down. In the clear water, he saw the reflection of a lion looking back at him—his own reflection, though he didn’t realize it. The image looked exactly as Lambakarna had described: large, fierce, with a magnificent mane and terrible claws.

“So!” Bhasuraka roared down into the well. “You dare to claim that you are the king of this forest?”

The echo of his own voice came back from the well, sounding like another lion roaring in response. This convinced Bhasuraka that there really was another lion down there, challenging his authority.

“You mock me with your roaring?” Bhasuraka bellowed, his pride and anger completely overcoming his reasoning ability. “We shall see who is stronger!”

With that, the furious lion leaped into the well to attack his supposed rival. The sides of the well were too smooth and steep for him to climb back out, and he drowned in the deep water, a victim of his own pride and rage.

Lambakarna looked down into the well sadly. He felt no joy in causing the death of another creature, even one as evil as Bhasuraka, but he knew that this was the only way to save the lives of countless innocent animals.

The little rabbit returned to the forest community with the news that Bhasuraka was dead and would never terrorize them again. The animals could hardly believe that their terrible ordeal was over, and that it had been ended by the courage and cleverness of the smallest among them.

From that day forward, peace returned to the forest. Animals could once again live without fear, children could play freely, and the natural harmony of forest life was restored.

Lambakarna became a hero to all the forest animals, not because of his size or strength, but because of his intelligence, courage, and willingness to risk his own life for the welfare of others. His story became famous throughout the land as an example of how wisdom and bravery can triumph over brutality and tyranny.

The animals also learned an important lesson about working together. When they had faced their problem individually, each species hiding and hoping that the danger would pass them by, they had been helpless. But when they came together, pooled their ideas, and supported the plan of their wisest member, they were able to overcome even the most terrible threat.

And whenever young animals in the forest heard this story in later years, they learned that true strength comes not from the size of one’s body or the sharpness of one’s claws, but from the wisdom of one’s mind and the courage of one’s heart.