Once upon a time, in a little village in Karnataka, there lived a herd of cows. Every morning, leaving their little calves behind in the safety of the village, the cows would follow their cowherd, Kalinga, up the hill to graze on the fresh green grass that grew there. And every evening, having eaten their fill, the cows would return to the village and to their calves.

Close by the meadow where the cows grazed was a dense forest.  One day, as the cows browsed lazily in the sunshine, a tiger called Arbhuta came by and saw them. This tiger, once strong and brave, had now become old and weak. He had been unable to catch any prey for weeks, and was very hungry. So when he saw the herd of cows grazing peacefully in the meadow, he was overjoyed. ‘I am sure I can catch one those fat cows for my dinner,’ he thought, and hiding behind a rock, he waited for his chance.

As evening fell, Kalinga gathered the cows together and the herd set off for home.  The tiger prepared to pounce, and as the cows passed by the rock behind which he lay concealed, he jumped out with a loud roar. The cows squealed in fright and ran helter-skelter back to their village. But there was one cow who was slower than the rest. She was called Punyakoti, and was the gentlest and most beautiful of all the cows in the herd.

The tiger pounced on Punyakoti and caught her. He was about to kill her with a bite of his powerful jaws, when Punyakoti spoke up. ‘Tiger, sire, do not kill me just now,’ said the cow. ‘I have a little calf in the village who is waiting for me. He must be hungry and needs his evening meal. Please let me go back to my calf tonight, and once I have fed him, I promise that I will return to you. Then you can eat me.’

The tiger sat back in surprise. He had killed many animals in his long life, and while many of them had pleaded with him for their lives, no one had ever promised to come back! ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ he roared, annoyed. ‘If I let you go, you will never return! No, I will kill you and eat you now.’

‘Sire, I ask you this favour not for me, but for my poor hungry calf. He must be wondering where his mother is. Let me go back to him, feed him one last time and say goodbye to him. I promise that I will come back,’ said Punyakoti again.

Despite himself, Arbhuta was moved by the cow’s plea. ‘Alright, go back to your calf and come back to me,’ he said. ‘I will wait here for you.

Punyakoti ran back to the village as fast as she could, and to the cowshed where her calf waited. The calf was frightened and hungry – all the other cows had come home, all except his mother. He ran, trembling in distress, to his mother.  Punyakoti soothed him and licked him and fed him. When the little calf had drunk all the milk that he could, she told him of the incident in the forest and her promise to the tiger.

‘Don’t go back, mother, please stay with me,’ wailed the little calf.

‘I must go back, my child,’ explained Punyakoti gently. ‘I have given my word, and you would not want your mother to break a promise, would you?’

The little calf was miserable, but didn’t know what to say or how to save his mother from the tiger.

Punyakoti then gathered all the other cows together, and explaining where she was going, asked them to look after her calf. The other cows, too, begged her to stay, but Punyakoti only said, ‘I have made a promise, and I must keep that.’ And bidding a final goodbye to her little calf, she left.

Meanwhile, Arbhuta the tiger had grown even hungrier. He was cursing himself for a fool to have let his dinner go, when he saw Punyakoti walking up the hill towards him.  He could not believe his eyes.

‘Here I am, as I promised,’ said the cow, coming up to the tiger.  ‘I have fed my calf for the last time, and said good bye to him, and the other cows have promised to look after him. So now you may kill me and eat me.’

Arbhuta, moved and humbled by Punyakoti’s courage and honesty, shook his massive head. ‘I cannot eat you,’ he said. ‘It is better that I die of hunger than eat someone as good and truthful as you.’ And so saying, he turned away into the forest.

Punyakoti returned to her little calf, who was overjoyed to see her, and the two lived happily ever after. Arbhuta the tiger went away and never bothered them again.