High in the Himalayas, on the bank of the river Ganga, grew a mango tree so wonderful that its fruit was sweeter than honey. In its branches lived eighty thousand monkeys, led by a wise and mighty Monkey King. He warned his troop, "Never let a single mango fall into the river, or trouble will follow it downstream." So the monkeys carefully plucked every fruit that hung over the water.
But one mango, hidden behind an ant's nest, ripened unseen and dropped into the river. It floated all the way to Benares, where King Brahmadatta found it while bathing. One taste, and he wanted more. He sailed upstream with his soldiers until he discovered the great tree — full of monkeys enjoying his new favourite fruit. "Surround the tree," he commanded. "At dawn, the archers will drive them away, and the mangoes shall be mine alone."
The frightened monkeys crowded around their king. "Do not fear," he said calmly. "I will save every one of you." With one tremendous leap he crossed the river, tied a long cane rope to his ankle, and leapt back toward the tree. But the rope was just a little too short. So the Monkey King caught a branch with his hands and stretched his own body across the gap, making himself into a living bridge. "Climb over my back!" he called. All through the night, eighty thousand monkeys ran across his back to safety, while his arms trembled and ached.
King Brahmadatta watched in wonder. At sunrise he had the exhausted Monkey King gently lifted down, wrapped in soft cloth, and given honey and water. "You are their king," said Brahmadatta. "Why did you carry them all, at such cost to yourself?" The Monkey King smiled. "A true king belongs to those he leads. Their happiness must come before his own." The king of Benares never forgot those words, and from that day he ruled his people with kindness.
When the Buddha finished this tale, he said, "In that long-ago life, the king of Benares was my disciple Ananda, the monkeys were my followers, and I myself was the Monkey King."