The bundle of sticks

Told in English, Telugu.

In a little village near the Godavari river, there lived a kind old grandfather. Everyone called him Ramayya Tatayya. He had three grandchildren, Sita, Ravi and little Gopi.

Sita, Ravi and Gopi loved each other very much. But oh, how they quarrelled!

"The swing is mine!" said Sita.

"No, it is my turn!" said Ravi.

"I want the biggest mango!" said Gopi, stamping his small feet.

Every single day there was some quarrel. Ammamma sighed in the kitchen. Tatayya sat on his cot under the neem tree, stroked his white moustache, and thought and thought.

One evening, the children had a very big quarrel about who would hold the new kite. Nobody would share, so nobody flew it at all. The kite lay sadly on the ground.

Tatayya called them. "Children, come here. Go to the backyard and bring me some dry sticks. Each of you, bring a few."

Away they ran, and soon they came back with their hands full of sticks. Tatayya took a piece of rope and tied all the sticks together, tight, tight, tight, into one fat bundle.

"Ravi, you are strong," said Tatayya. "Can you break this bundle?"

Ravi pushed. Ravi pulled. Ravi pressed it on his knee. Huff, puff, huff! But the bundle did not break.

"Let me try," said Sita. She twisted it this way and that way. The bundle did not break.

Little Gopi tried too. He even sat on it! The bundle did not break, and everyone laughed.

Then Tatayya untied the rope. He gave one stick to each child. "Now try," he said.

Snap! went Sita's stick. Snap! went Ravi's stick. Snap! went Gopi's stick. So easy!

Tatayya smiled and sang softly,

"One stick alone, snap goes the stick. Sticks held together, strong and thick!"

"Do you see, my dears?" said Tatayya. "When you quarrel, each of you stands alone, like one little stick. Anything can break you. But when you stay together and help each other, you are like this bundle. Nobody can break you."

The children looked at the broken sticks. Then they looked at each other.

The next morning, Ammamma asked them to bring the basket of mangoes from the big tree. The basket was very heavy. Ravi could not lift it alone. Sita could not lift it alone. Gopi could not even move it!

Then Sita remembered. "Let us carry it together!"

Sita held one side. Ravi held the other side. Gopi held the middle. Step, step, step, and the basket came all the way home.

And do you know what they did that evening? Sita held the kite up high. Ravi held the string. Gopi ran and shouted, "Go, kite, go!" Up, up, up it flew, right over the coconut trees.

Tatayya clapped his hands and sang,

"One stick alone, snap goes the stick. Sticks held together, strong and thick!"

Can you say it with me? One stick alone, snap goes the stick. Sticks held together, strong and thick!

From that day, Sita, Ravi and Gopi still had little quarrels sometimes, because all children do. But they always said sorry, and they always came back together, strong like a bundle of sticks.

Now close your eyes, my little one. Goodnight.