The Peaceful Warriors

A Story for All Ages by Aaron McEmrys

There once was a man named Badshah Khan. He lived in the Mountains where his warlike people had lived for centuries. Badshah came from a very old and powerful family. His father, grandfather and great-grandfather before him were all powerful chieftains and mighty warriors, and he was raised to be a great warrior too.

The People of the Mountains were brave and fierce, but when the Red Soldiers came there was nothing they could do. Nobody knew why the Red Soldiers came, or from where, but come they did, marching into the mountains like an army of red ants, swords and spears and black guns glinting in the sunlight.

“These mountains belong to us now” they said. You are now subjects of our King and you must do as we say. You can start by giving us food and drink and beds to sleep in, for our soldiers are tired and hungry.”

And so the Red Soldiers took all the food and then all the houses, forcing the People of the Mountains to leave their villages and live in the caves.

“What do we do, great Khan?” the People cried, and their young leader Badshah Khan shouted back, “We will fight them, just as we always have! We are a warrior people and we will not back down!”

And so the People fought the Red Soldiers, but it was a war they could not win. The People were brave and their horses were fast, but the Red Soldiers were so many, more all the time, and soon all the villages were burning and the People were chased even higher into the mountains where it is always cold and white.

Badshah Khan did not know what to do. No matter how clever he was and no matter how bravely they fought, the Red Soldiers just kept coming and coming and burning and burning.

In desperation he journeyed in secret to a far off land where he had heard the wisest of the wise, a great teacher lived. It was a dangerous journey, but after many months Badshah Khan found the wise teacher, Mahatma.

“Teacher, what must I do to free my people?” Khan begged with tears in his eyes. “The Red Soldiers are burning everything and my People are hungry and cold and afraid.”

“What have you tried so far?” the old man asked.

“Well, we’ve fought them, of course, day and night, with our spears and swords and racing steeds, but we are defeated every time.”

“The you must try something else. Since fighting hasn’t worked, have you tried NOT fighting them?”

“What? We are not cowards! I heard you were a wise man, not a coward and a fool. My whole journey has been for nothing if this is your ‘wise’ advice”, he shouted, drawing his sword.

The old man just sat there calmly. “Put down your sword, my boy and I will tell you a secret: the bravest warrior is the one who needs no weapons. These are the words you have come so far to hear.”

Badshah Khan lowered his sword, feeling ashamed of himself for threatening the kind old man. And as he thought about it, the beginnings of a bold idea stirred inside him, and his eyes gleamed.

A few days later, after many hours of quiet talking and silence with the Mahatma, Badshah Khan returned to his People.

“You want us to put away our weapons – are you mad? We will be helpless!”

“No my friends, we will not be helpless. The Mahatma taught me that our strength does not rest in our swords, but in our hearts. We have lost battle after battle after battles - what else do we have to lose? Put down your swords and follow me.”

And reluctantly, because he was their Khan, the People followed him.

The next morning they marched down the mountain, their uniforms shining; every footstep in time with beating drums and the sounds of trumpets.

The Red Soldiers couldn’t believe their eyes. “Sir, they have no guns! No swords! No nothing!”

“Of course, they’re coming down to surrender. Prepare the prison.”

But Badshah Khan was not coming to surrender. Instead he sent the General of the Red Soldiers a letter that said, “You have been here long enough. Lay down your weapons, and depart in peace.”

The General laughed, but nervously, for there they were, a whole army marching toward them with determined steps – but without weapons.

Closer and closer they marched and the General ordered his soldiers to prepare to fire – but the soldiers looked at one another nervously. It was one thing to shoot at someone who might shoot back, but to shoot at unarmed men, women and children – no, that’s wasn’t right at all!

“Fire!!!” screamed the General, his hands over his ears against the terrible sounds of war – but there was only silence. No one fired, not a single soldier. “FIRE!!!” he yelled even louder, but again, no one fired. His Red Soldiers, masters of half the world, could not bring themselves to fire on unarmed people.

Never had the Red Soldiers seen such bravery.

Badshah Khan’s army marched directly toward the guns, until they could see every hair of the General’s bushy mustache. They marched until they saw the Red Soldiers muttering to each other and then getting up in twos and threes and dozens and hundreds and walking away with their hands up in peace, leaving the battlefield, leaving the whole country as they marched back to their own land, their General running along behind them shouting orders that no one heeded.

And so the Mountains were free once again, free without sword or spear or gun. Badshah Khan’s army was the first and, as far as I know, the only, non-violent army in the history of the world – but I don’t think it will be the last.

For the wise old man called Mahatma was right: the bravest warrior is the one who needs no weapon – only a good heart.