Sankranti

Told in English, Telugu.

Early on Bhogi morning, before the sun woke up, Chinni and her little brother Bujji sat close to Ammamma in front of their house in a village near Rajahmundry. The Bhogi fire crackled and glowed. Old baskets and dry leaves went into the flames.

"Old things go into the fire," said Ammamma, "and new, happy days come in."

Chinni held out her hands. "So warm!" she said.

"Shall I tell you a story while we sit by the fire?" asked Ammamma. Bujji nodded so hard that his curls bounced.

"Long, long ago, in a village called Gokulam, there lived a little boy named Krishna. He loved the cows, and the cows loved him. Every year, the people of Gokulam made a big puja for Indra, the king of the rain clouds.

But one year, little Krishna said, "Our cows eat sweet grass from Govardhana hill. Our water comes from the streams on the hill. This year, let us thank the hill and our cows!"

So the people cooked rice and sweets, and they thanked the hill.

Up in the sky, Indra was not happy. He felt proud and cross. "No puja for me? Then I will send big rain!" he said.

Dark clouds rolled in. The rain came down. Pitter patter, then splash, splash, splash! The cows mooed. The calves shivered. The children held their mothers' hands. Everyone ran to Krishna.

Krishna smiled. "Don't worry. Come with me."

He walked to Govardhana hill. And with just one little finger, he lifted the whole hill up high, like a giant umbrella!

One little finger, one big heart, and everyone was safe.

Grandmothers and grandfathers came under the hill. Mothers and babies came. Cows and calves came too. They were all dry and cosy. For seven days the rain fell, and for seven days Krishna held up the hill.

One little finger, one big heart, and everyone was safe. Can you say it with me?

Indra looked down and saw how kind and strong little Krishna was. His cross feeling melted away. He stopped the rain and came down with folded hands. "I am sorry," he said. Krishna smiled and forgave him. Then the sun came out, and the whole village laughed and sang."

Ammamma stroked Bujji's hair. "That is why on Bhogi we remember Indra and pray for good rain, and on Kanuma we thank our cows, who help us every day."

Just then, the sun peeped over the paddy fields. Amma came out with fresh gobbemmalu and set them in the middle of the bright muggu, each one with a yellow flower on top. Down the street came the Haridasu, singing sweetly, and behind him came the gangireddu, nodding its decorated head.

Later, Nanna took the children up to the terrace. Chinni's red kite and Bujji's green kite danced high in the blue sky.

"Look, Ammamma!" called Bujji. "My kite is as high as Govardhana hill!"

On Kanuma, Chinni tied a marigold garland on Lakshmi the cow's horns. Bujji gave her a handful of fresh green grass. Lakshmi said, "Mooo," which Chinni was sure meant thank you.

That night, full of pongali and ariselu, Bujji yawned and whispered the words he remembered best.

One little finger, one big heart, and everyone was safe.

Good night, little one. Happy Sankranti.