Too Much Greed

Told in English, Telugu.

In a little village near the Godavari river, there lived a boy named Kittu. He was eight years old, and he had two favourite things in the whole world. The first was flying kites. The second was his Ammamma's ariselu, sweet and soft, made with rice flour and jaggery and a little sesame on top.

It was the week of Sankranti. Rangoli patterns bloomed in front of every house. Cows wore bright paint on their horns. And in Ammamma's kitchen, the smell of hot jaggery floated out into the street.

For three whole days, Ammamma fried ariselu and sakinalu. She filled a big brass vessel to the very top and carried it into the storeroom. She placed it on the high wooden shelf.

Kittu tugged at her sari. "Ammamma, can I have five? Please?"

Ammamma laughed and gave him two. "Two now, kanna. The rest are for the festival. Some are for your cousins coming from Vijayawada, some for the neighbours, and a big packet is for Ramayya's children. Their father works so hard in our fields. They should have sweets too."

Kittu ate his two ariselu very slowly. But when they were gone, his tummy said, more, more, more.

That night, everyone fell asleep. Thatha snored like a little tractor. Amma and Nanna slept on the cot by the window. But Kittu lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking only of that shining brass vessel.

"Nobody will notice if I take a few," he whispered to himself. "Just a few. Well, maybe a lot."

He slid off his mat and began to tiptoe. Tip, tip, tip, across the cool floor. He pushed open the storeroom door. Creeeak. He froze. Nobody woke up.

The storeroom was very dark. It smelled of rice sacks and tamarind and, best of all, jaggery. Kittu dragged a small wooden stool to the shelf and climbed on top. The stool wobbled. Wibble, wobble. He held his breath.

He reached up and touched the cold brass rim. He pulled out one ariselu. Then two. Then five. Then ten! He stuffed them into his shirt until his shirt bulged like a balloon.

Just then, from the dark corner behind the rice sacks, came a sound. Rustle, rustle. Then two glowing eyes!

Kittu nearly fell off the stool. His heart went thump, thump, thump. "Who is there?" he squeaked.

"Meow," said the eyes.

It was only Lakshmi, the family cat, who liked to sleep on the rice sacks. Kittu let out a long, shaky breath. Then he climbed down, hurried back to his mat, and pulled the blanket over his head.

Under the blanket, in the dark, he began to eat. One ariselu. So sweet! Two. Three. Four. By the seventh one, his jaw was tired. By the tenth, his tummy felt tight like a drum. But he kept eating, because he did not want to waste a single one. At last he fell asleep with sesame seeds stuck to his cheeks.

In the morning, the whole village woke to the sound of the Haridasu singing in the street and the drums of the Gangireddu man. The sky was already full of kites, red and green and yellow, dancing over the rooftops.

"Kittu! Wake up!" called Nanna. "I bought you a new red kite! Come to the terrace!"

Kittu tried to sit up. Ouch! His tummy gave a big, angry twist. He curled up like a little prawn.

"Ammamma," he whimpered. "My tummy is hurting."

Ammamma came and sat beside him. She noticed the sesame on his cheeks. She noticed the crumbs on his blanket. She did not shout. She only raised one eyebrow.

"How many ariselu did you eat, kanna?"

Kittu's eyes filled with tears. "Ten," he whispered. "Maybe twelve. I am sorry, Ammamma."

Ammamma brought him warm jeera water and rubbed a little castor oil around his belly button, the way grandmothers do. "Rest now," she said softly.

So Kittu lay on his mat all morning. Through the window he could hear his cousins shouting, "Cut it! Cut it!" as kites fought in the sky. He heard the Gangireddu bull jingling its bells and nodding its painted head, and all the children clapping. His new red kite leaned against the wall, waiting. It never flew that day.

In the afternoon, Ramayya's little daughter, Chinni, came to the door with her brother. Ammamma gave them a packet of ariselu. It was a smaller packet than she had planned, because some were missing. Kittu saw Chinni hold the packet against her chest as if it were treasure.

"Thank you, Ammamma garu," she said, smiling so wide.

Kittu felt a different kind of ache then, not in his tummy, but in his heart.

That evening, when the pain had gone, Kittu sat on Ammamma's lap on the swing. "Ammamma, I wanted so many, but I could not even enjoy them. I missed the kites. I missed the Gangireddu. And Chinni got fewer sweets because of me."

Ammamma stroked his hair. "That is what greed does, kanna. It promises you more, more, more, and then it takes away the things you really love. Two ariselu, eaten slowly and happily, are sweeter than twenty eaten in the dark."

The next morning was Kanuma. Kittu woke up early. He went to the storeroom and took out his own share of ariselu that Ammamma had saved for him. He wrapped half of it in a banana leaf and ran all the way to Ramayya's house.

"Chinni! These are for you!"

And then, together, they climbed up to the terrace, and Kittu's red kite flew higher than any kite in the whole village.

So, my little one, what do you think? Is it better to grab too much, or to take a little and share? Can you say it with me? A little, and share. Now close your eyes. Good night.