In a small village there lived a Brahmin named Devasharma with his wife and their newborn son. On the very day the boy was born, a baby mongoose lost its mother, and the kind Brahmani took the tiny creature in, feeding it milk and raising it beside her own child. The two little ones grew up together, and the mongoose loved the baby as a brother. Yet deep in her heart the mother kept a small, nagging fear: a mongoose is a wild creature after all — what if one day it harmed her son?
One morning the Brahmani settled the baby in his cradle and picked up her pot to fetch water. “Watch over the child,” she told her husband. “The mongoose is an animal; do not leave them alone together.” But soon after she left, the Brahmin was called away to receive alms, and he too went out, leaving the sleeping baby with only the mongoose beside him.
Just then a black cobra slid out of a hole and glided straight toward the cradle. The mongoose sprang at it without a moment's fear. A fierce battle followed, and though the snake was strong, the brave mongoose tore it to pieces and saved the sleeping child. Proud and happy, its face still smeared from the fight, the mongoose ran to the door to greet its mistress returning with her water pot.
The Brahmani saw the blood on its mouth, and her old fear roared up: the beast had killed her son! In that blind instant she hurled the heavy water pot upon the little creature, and the loyal mongoose died on her doorstep. Then she rushed inside — and found the baby sleeping sweetly, with a dead cobra torn beside the cradle. Understanding came flooding in, and with it grief beyond words. She wept over the little friend who had given his life for her son, punished not for any fault, but for her own haste. The whole village mourned with her, and her tale is retold to this day: think first, act after.