A Friend Who Kept His Word

Told in English, Telugu.

In a small village near Kakinada, where coconut trees sway beside the canal, there lived a boy named Ravi. He was eight years old, he could run faster than anyone on his street, and his best friend in the whole world was Sirisha, who lived in the house with the blue door, right next to his.

That Ugadi, Sirisha's grandfather gave her a tiny mango sapling. It had only four leaves, soft and reddish, like little flags. Sirisha planted it by the wall of her courtyard and patted the earth around it very gently.

"Her name is Chinni," she said proudly. "One day Chinni will give us so many mangoes that we can eat one every single day."

Ravi laughed. "Then I want the very first one."

"Only if you help me look after her," said Sirisha.

A few weeks later, Sirisha came running to Ravi's house with a worried face. "Ravi, my aunt's wedding is in Vijayawada. We are going for ten whole days. Our house will be locked, and the sun is so hot now. If nobody waters Chinni, she will dry up."

Ravi did not even stop to think. "I will water her. Every evening. I promise."

Sirisha looked at him carefully. "Every evening? Even when you are playing cricket?"

"Even then," said Ravi, standing up straight. "A promise is a promise."

So Sirisha gave him the key to the small side gate, and the next morning her family's auto rattled away down the road.

The first evening was easy. Ravi filled a bucket at the hand pump at the end of the street, carried it to the courtyard, and poured the water slowly around Chinni. The second evening was easy too. And the third.

But then the days grew hotter. The bucket felt heavier. And the boys on the street began to tease him.

"Ravi has become a gardener!" laughed Gopi. "Careful, Ravi, or you will grow leaves on your head!"

Ravi only smiled and kept walking.

Then came the big news. On Sunday evening, Ravi's street would play a cricket match against the boys from the next street. It was the most important match of the whole summer.

"You are our fastest runner," Gopi told him. "We cannot win without you. The match starts at four o'clock sharp. Do not be late."

On Saturday evening, Ravi opened the side gate and his heart gave a jump. Chinni's leaves were hanging down, limp and tired. The hot wind had dried the soil.

"Oh no, Chinni," he whispered. "Please be all right."

He ran to the hand pump and back, once, twice, three times. Then he found an old coconut leaf and propped it up beside her, so that she would have a little shade. He sat with her until the sky turned orange, hoping and hoping.

Then Sunday came.

At half past three, Ravi picked up the bucket. But when he reached the hand pump, there was a long line of people waiting with their pots. One by one, they filled their water. The minutes crept by.

From the ground behind the temple, he heard shouting. "Ravi! Ravi, come! We are starting!"

Ravi looked at the ground. Then he looked at the empty bucket in his hand. What do you think he should do? Think about it for a moment.

For a second, he wanted to drop the bucket and run. Nobody would know. Sirisha was far away in Vijayawada. Chinni could wait one day, couldn't she?

But then he remembered her drooping leaves. And he remembered Sirisha's face when she said, "Even when you are playing cricket?"

Ravi took a deep breath and waited for his turn.

By the time he had watered Chinni and run all the way to the ground, the match was nearly over. He played the last few overs with all his heart, running between the wickets as fast as his legs could go. But it was not enough. His team lost by six runs.

Gopi kicked the dust. "If you had come on time, we would have won."

Ravi walked home slowly, his eyes stinging. That night, Ammamma found him sitting quietly on the steps of the verandah.

"Why such a small face, kanna?" she asked, and he told her everything.

Ammamma stroked his hair. "Listen to me," she said softly. "There will be a cricket match next Sunday, and the Sunday after that. But a friend's trust is like a clay pot. Once it breaks, it is very hard to mend. Today you kept something precious safe."

Ravi leaned against her shoulder, and he felt a little better.

At last, the ten days were over. The auto came rattling back, and Sirisha jumped out before it had even stopped. She did not go inside her house. She ran straight to the courtyard, and Ravi ran right behind her.

There stood Chinni, green and strong. And at the very top was a brand new leaf, shiny and red, unfolding like a tiny hand waving hello.

Sirisha clapped her hands. "Ravi! You kept your word!"

"I almost did not," Ravi admitted, and he told her about the match.

Sirisha was quiet for a moment. Then she pressed a big sweet laddu from the wedding into his hand. "When Chinni gives her very first mango," she said, "it belongs to you. That is my promise."

The next day, Gopi came to Ravi's door, scratching his head. "Ravi, I heard what you did. That was a good thing. Will you promise to play in our next match?"

Ravi grinned. "I promise."

And do you know what? Everyone on the street knew that Ravi would be there. Because Ravi was a friend who always kept his word.

Good night, little one. Sleep well.