Long ago, in the days when animals spoke as clearly as humans do now, there lived two friends in the vast grasslands of the earth — a sturdy buffalo and a gentle yak. At that time, both animals had short coats. The yak, in particular, was not built for the cold — his short hair barely protected him from the icy winds that swept through the highland valleys every winter.
One bitter winter approached. The ground began to freeze, and snow dusted the tips of the mountains. The yak shivered constantly. His teeth chattered through the long, sleepless nights. He tried everything — curling up under rocks, hiding in caves, even standing close to fire-lit villages — but nothing could keep him warm enough.
One morning, he visited his old friend the buffalo, who was grazing calmly near a river.
“Buffalo, my friend,” said the yak with a quiver in his voice, “this cold is too much for me. My short hair cannot withstand the mountain chill. I see you standing tall and strong — your hair keeps you warm and safe. I was wondering… would you lend me your coat? Just for the winter? I promise to return it when spring comes.”
The buffalo thought for a moment. He was known for his generous heart and didn’t like seeing his friend suffer.
“You may borrow my hair, dear yak,” the buffalo said kindly. “But only if you promise me one thing in return. When you travel to Tibet in the summer, bring me back some of that precious salt from the highland lakes. My people say it’s the purest salt in the world — enough to flavor a whole year’s worth of meals.”
The yak agreed without hesitation. “You have my word. As soon as summer arrives, I’ll journey to Tibet and return with the finest salt the land can offer.”
So the yak wore the buffalo’s long, thick hair like a winter coat. Immediately, he felt warmer, stronger, and better prepared for the harsh months ahead. As the wind howled and snow blanketed the earth, the yak roamed the mountains with ease, while the buffalo endured the plains with his short coat, patiently waiting for the return of warmth — and his hair.
When the snows melted and wildflowers bloomed, the yak packed his things and began his journey to the salt lakes of Tibet. The air grew thinner, but the views were breathtaking — endless skies, deep blue lakes, herds of wild antelope, and eagles soaring overhead.
When the yak arrived at the salt lakes, he was stunned. There were glistening crystals everywhere, stretching to the horizon. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He tasted the salt — sharp, clean, like the wind itself. He was about to start gathering some when he thought, “Perhaps I should rest first. The grass is green here. The air is cool. There’s no rush.”
Days turned into weeks. The yak feasted on wild herbs, played in the meadows, and enjoyed the highland breeze. Before he knew it, the whole summer had passed.
Meanwhile, down in the lowlands, the buffalo waited. As the sun blazed in the sky, he stood by the riverbank, eyes fixed on the distant mountains. He waited patiently — through the heat, the rains, and into the next winter. But the yak never returned.
Day after day, the buffalo looked north, hoping to see a silhouette on the ridge, carrying a sack of salt. But no one came.
And so, over time, the buffalo’s neck grew bent — from months and years of staring toward the mountains. His coat never grew back as long, and the short hair remained a reminder of his kindness and his unfulfilled promise.
As for the yak, his borrowed hair became a permanent part of him. It grew longer and shaggier, suited perfectly for the cold Himalayan winds. But deep down, some say he still carries a hint of guilt — for breaking a promise to an old friend.
Moral of the Story:
Promises are easy to make, but harder to keep. And a borrowed gift carries responsibility. Never forget those who helped you when you were in need.
