Short Story

Thai Folklore

Author: Tan Sri Son

Title: The Spirit of the Golden Bodhi Tree

Inspired by Thai traditions of animism and forest spirits

In the quiet village of Ban Chiang Rai, near the edge of an ancient forest, there stood a magnificent bodhi tree, its golden leaves shimmering even when there was no wind. The villagers believed the tree was sacred. They called it Phra Thon Mai, and it was said to be protected by a powerful forest spirit known as Mae Phosop, the Guardian of Nature.

No one dared to cut its branches or even pick its fallen leaves. Children were warned: “Do not play under the tree at night. The spirit watches.”

One summer, a young boy named Niran, curious and restless, decided to challenge the old stories. He was tired of superstition, tired of the elders whispering about ghosts and curses. One evening, as the sky turned the color of papaya, he sneaked out of his home and went to the golden tree, carrying a small axe.

As he approached, the air turned cool. The cicadas fell silent. Still, he reached up to break a small branch.

Just as the blade touched the bark, a whisper echoed through the air.

"Why do you wound what gives you shelter?"

Niran froze.

Before him stood a woman dressed in robes of mist and moonlight, her hair like flowing black silk, her eyes deep with sorrow and strength. She didn’t speak with anger—only disappointment.

“I-I didn’t mean to—” Niran stammered.

The woman looked up at the bodhi leaves. “This tree has stood for a hundred years. It remembers war and peace, drought and rain. It listens when no one else does.”

A single golden leaf drifted down and landed on Niran’s hand. Warmth spread through him—calm, clear, and ancient.

“Will you protect it now, as it has protected you?” she asked.

Niran nodded silently.

When the villagers found him asleep under the tree the next morning, the axe was gone. In its place lay a small wooden carving of the forest spirit, her arms wrapped around the tree’s roots.

From that day on, Niran became the keeper of the golden bodhi. He swept its fallen leaves, taught children to honor the forest, and placed offerings of jasmine and rice at its roots.

Some say on full moon nights, Mae Phosop still appears—watching, smiling, her presence felt in the rustle of golden leaves.

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