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In a world where half-truths are common and honesty is often sacrificed for gain, many of us quietly long for something purer. We yearn for words we can trust, for people who mean what they say. And deep down, we hope we can become that kind of person too.

Perhaps you’ve been lied to, or maybe you’ve told a lie yourself and felt the sting of it later. You may be wondering: Is it possible to live a life of complete truth? Not just avoiding lies, but embodying truth as a way of being?

This is the story of a prince who did exactly that. In a past life of the Buddha—long before he attained enlightenment—he was born as a royal child named Mahāsattva. From the moment he could speak, he made one vow: to always speak the truth, no matter the cost.

This tale invites us to explore what it means to live in harmony with truth—not just in words, but in heart, mind, and action. And through it, we’ll discover a path of clarity, courage, and inner peace that Buddhism calls sacca-paramita, the perfection of truthfulness.

📖 The Story of the Prince Who Spoke Only Truth

Long ago, in a kingdom nestled between forested mountains and winding rivers, a royal couple rejoiced at the birth of a son. He was their firstborn, and from the beginning, he was unlike any other child. When he began to speak, he surprised everyone by declaring: “I will never lie.”

At first, his parents thought it was just a child’s fancy. But as he grew older, it became clear: he truly meant it. His name was Mahāsattva, meaning “Great Being,” and even as a boy, he displayed a clarity and resolve that set him apart.

The Vow of Truth

At the age of five, when his younger brother accidentally broke a rare vase, the blame fell on Mahāsattva. The attendants assumed the eldest must be responsible. When questioned, Mahāsattva calmly replied, “I did not break it, but if my brother cannot speak yet, I will accept the blame.”

“Why would you do that?” asked the queen, puzzled.

“Because I cannot speak what is false,” the boy said. “But I also cannot let him suffer in silence.”

The king and queen were moved. From then on, his vow to speak only the truth was no longer treated as childish—it was seen as sacred.

A Test from the Teachers

As Mahāsattva entered his youth, he studied under some of the kingdom’s finest teachers—masters of law, poetry, strategy, and philosophy. One day, a tutor attempted to test his resolve.

“Suppose telling the truth would lead to harm, and telling a lie would save someone’s life. What would you do?”

Mahāsattva paused.

“I would still speak the truth,” he said. “But I would do so in a way that brings peace. I do not believe truth must harm if spoken with wisdom.”

The teacher was humbled. Word of the young prince’s insight began to spread.

The Forest Encounter

When Mahāsattva turned sixteen, he often walked in the forest near the palace. He said it helped him hear the truth in all things—the wind in the trees, the cry of the birds, the silence of the stones.

One day, while walking with his companions, he came upon a group of terrified animals—deer, rabbits, and birds—fleeing through the brush. Moments later, a group of hunters appeared, sweaty and eager.

“You there, boy!” one of them shouted. “Have you seen animals pass this way?”

Mahāsattva’s friends were silent, afraid. If they said yes, the hunters would kill the creatures. But if they said no, they would be lying.

All eyes turned to the prince.

Mahāsattva closed his eyes. Then he opened them and said softly, “In this forest, all beings have the right to live. I cannot say where they’ve gone, but I pray you find your peace without blood.”

The hunters, struck by his tone, found themselves lowering their weapons. One by one, they turned away.

His companions were astonished. “You didn’t lie,” one said. “But you saved them.”

Mahāsattva smiled. “Truth does not have to be cruel. But it must be unwavering.”

The Challenge of the Throne

When the king grew ill, there was talk of Mahāsattva ascending the throne. Some ministers, however, saw his radical truthfulness as a threat. “He will not flatter. He will not bend. He will expose our faults,” they warned.

They devised a plan to trap him.

One day, during court, a minister presented two scrolls. One contained a list of true grievances from the people. The other was a forged list designed to stir fear and division.

“Tell us which is true,” the minister asked, “and let the prince show his wisdom.”

Mahāsattva took the scrolls, read them, and turned to the court.

“This one is filled with lies,” he said of the second. “But the greater danger is not the lies themselves—it is the fear behind them. Fear that the people will know the truth.”

The hall fell silent. The ministers’ plan had failed.

The king smiled from his throne. “He is ready.”

The Sacrifice

Not long after, as war threatened the borders, Mahāsattva was sent as an envoy to speak with a rival king. The enemy ruler offered peace—but only if Mahāsattva denounced his vow of truth and agreed to spread a false message to his people, claiming they had surrendered.

“If you lie once, your people will be spared,” the king said.

Mahāsattva’s answer was calm. “A peace built on a lie is no peace at all. Truth is my life. And I would rather die with it than live without it.”

He was imprisoned. Yet the news of his stand spread like wildfire. The enemy king, hearing of the people’s reverence for the prince, feared an uprising and eventually released him.

Mahāsattva returned home not just as a prince—but as a living symbol of truth itself.

☸️ What This Story Teaches Us

The Power of Truthfulness (Sacca-paramita)

This story illuminates one of the six perfections—or pāramitās—in Mahayana Buddhism: sacca, or truthfulness. More than just not lying, sacca means aligning one’s speech, thoughts, and actions with what is real and beneficial.

The Buddha, in countless discourses, upheld the value of truthful speech. In the Cunda Kammaraputta Sutta, he states:

“A person who speaks the truth, who holds to the truth, who is firm in the truth—this is the person the world holds as honorable.”

In this story, Mahāsattva doesn’t just avoid falsehood. He embodies truth. His every word springs from integrity, guided by wisdom and compassion. Even when silence would be easier, even when truth brings danger, he remains steadfast.

Speaking Truth Wisely

Importantly, Mahāsattva shows that truth must be spoken skillfully. In Buddhism, truth is not wielded like a sword to hurt others. The principle of right speech (from the Noble Eightfold Path) teaches us to speak:

When he faces the hunters, Mahāsattva does not lie—but neither does he deliver the truth in a way that leads to violence. This is the middle way: not silence, not falsehood, but truth with compassion.

Living Truthfully Means Living Fully

To live in truth is to live without fear. When we lie, we fracture ourselves—we create masks, avoid our own conscience, and erode trust.

Mahāsattva’s life teaches us that truth brings strength. Not the strength of domination, but the quiet, enduring strength of someone who knows they are whole.

And this wholeness ripples outward. It calms the fearful. It thwarts deceit. It calls others to rise in honesty.

🌍 Why This Story Matters Today

We live in a time of misinformation, performative words, and fear-driven silence. In such a world, truthfulness becomes a revolutionary act.

How often do we:

These small daily betrayals accumulate. They leave us feeling uncentered, unseen, disconnected from ourselves.

The story of Mahāsattva challenges us. It asks: What if you lived in full truth? What would you stop pretending? What would you speak aloud, even if your voice trembled?

And importantly, how can we speak truth in a way that heals, not harms?

This story reminds us that truth is not an absolute club to beat others with. It’s a gentle light—one that reveals, clarifies, and frees.

In relationships, truth builds trust. In society, it grounds justice. In the spiritual path, it leads to awakening.

🧘 Your Path Continues

The story of the prince who spoke only truth is not just about a single lifetime. It’s a mirror for our own hearts.

What truths have you been avoiding?

What truth is waiting in your throat, needing voice?

You don’t have to become perfect overnight. But you can begin. One sentence, one breath, one brave act of honesty at a time.

As the Buddha once said:

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”

Let this story stay in your heart this week.

Speak one truth kindly. Listen for truth in others. And trust that every step on the path of truth brings you closer to awakening.