WHEEL – Cycle of Life

A warm afternoon. Sunlight filters through the rustling leaves of an ancient banyan tree. The Guru and his Disciple sit in the cool shade, the world humming softly around them. A mosquito lands on the Disciple’s arm. Instinct takes over—a swift slap. The tiny insect is crushed.

The Disciple stares at his palm, at the tiny smear of life he has just ended. A frown darkens his face.

Disciple (whispering): Oh… I didn’t even think…

Guru (watching calmly): Yet, you acted. And now you regret. Why?

Disciple: I did not mean to kill it. It was just instinct. But now, I wonder—was its life any less valuable than mine?

Guru (smiling): If you had not killed it, would it have spared you?

Disciple: No… it would have taken my blood.

Guru: Then was it wrong for you to defend yourself?

Disciple (hesitant): I… I don’t know. I just feel guilty. Who am I to decide which life should end and which should continue?

Guru (leaning back against the tree): Tell me, if a tiger had killed a deer just now before your eyes, would you feel the same guilt?

Disciple: No. The tiger hunts because it must. It has no choice.

Guru: And you, my dear student, have the burden of choice. The tiger kills without thought, but you… you question. That is the weight of awareness.

The Disciple lowers his gaze, lost in thought. A soft breeze stirs the leaves above.

Disciple: But should I not strive to cause no harm at all? Should we not live without taking life?

Guru (chuckling): If that is your path, then tell me—what will you eat?

Disciple: Plants. They do not feel pain.

Guru (raising an eyebrow): Do they not? Have you heard of the trees that warn each other of danger? The plants that react when plucked? Just because you do not hear their screams, do you assume they do not suffer?

Disciple (frustrated): Then what is left? If I eat, I kill. If I breathe, I kill. If I walk, I kill. Am I cursed to destroy no matter what I do?

Guru: No, you are blessed to understand. The fool kills without thought. The wise understand that every bite, every breath, is a gift taken from another.

The Disciple sighs, looking at the crushed mosquito again. He wipes his palm on his robe, but the guilt remains.

Disciple: If all life is equal, why do we feel guilt while the tiger does not? Why do we debate morality while the wolf feasts without hesitation?

Guru: Because we have the power of choice. The tiger kills because it must. The wolf does not ask if it is right. But you have been given awareness. And with that awareness comes responsibility.

Disciple: Responsibility… to what? To whom?

Guru: To balance. To respect. To never take more than you must. To never waste what has been given. To never kill for pleasure, nor destroy without purpose.

The Disciple nods slowly, absorbing the words. The Guru picks up a fruit that had fallen beside him—a ripe mango. He breaks it open, offering half to the Disciple.

Guru: Even this mango, fallen from the tree, was once alive. Its seed held the promise of more life. If we take, we must do so with gratitude.

The Disciple takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Guru: But tell me, what is worse—killing for survival, or wasting what was given in sacrifice?

Disciple (pausing): Wasting.

Guru: Exactly. Whether it is the fruit of a tree, the grain of a field, or the flesh of an animal—if we consume, we must do so with respect. To throw away food, to take more than needed, to be ungrateful—these are greater sins than the act of eating itself.

Disciple (softly): So, it is not just about what we eat, but how we eat?

Guru (smiling): Yes. To eat mindlessly is to dishonor the life that was taken. But to eat with gratitude, with mindfulness, is to complete the cycle with respect.

The Disciple looks up at the vast sky through the branches. He breathes deeply, as if tasting the enormity of the question.

Disciple: Then what makes us different from animals?

Guru: That we alone ask these questions.

Disciple: And will I ever find an answer?

Guru (smiling, eyes twinkling): If you do, tell me. I have been searching my whole life.

A long silence follows. The wind whispers through the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sings. The Disciple smiles faintly, his heart lighter, his mind fuller. The mosquito is gone, but its lesson lingers.

The world is a great wheel—one life feeding another. The question is not whether we harm, but how and why. And above all, whether we waste or honor what is given.