A Brâhmana was laying down a garden, and looked after it day and night.
One day a cow straying into the garden browsed away a mango sapling which was one of the most carefully-watched trees of the Brâhmana.
The Brâhmana seeing the cow destroy his favorite plant gave it such a sound beating that it died of the injuries received. The news soon spread like wildfire that the Brâhmana killed the sacred animal.
Now the Brâhmana was a so-called Vedântist, and when taxed with the sin denied it, saying, "No, I have not killed the cow; it is my hand that has done it, and as Indra is the presiding Deity of the hand, so if any one has incurred the guilt of killing the cow, it is Indra and not I."
Indra in his Heaven heard all this, assumed the shape of an old Brâhmana, came to the owner of the garden, and said, "Sir, whose garden is this?"
Brâhmana—"Mine."
Indra—"It is a beautiful garden. You have got a skilful gardener, for see how neatly and artistically he has planted the trees!"
Brâhmana—"Well, sir, that is also my work. The trees are planted under my personal supervision and direction."
Indra—"Indeed! O, you are very clever. But who has laid out this road? It is very ably planned and neatly executed."
Brâhmana—"All this has been done by me."
Then Indra with joined hands said, "When all these things are yours, and you take credit for all the works done in this garden, it is a hard line for poor Indra to be held responsible for the killing of the cow."
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