Shabari's berries

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, deep in a green forest near a lake called Pampa, there lived an old woman named Shabari. Her hair was as white as jasmine flowers, and her back was bent like a bow. But her eyes were bright, and her heart was full of one big, happy hope.

When Shabari was young, she had come to the ashram of a wise old sage named Matanga. She swept the paths, carried water from the lake, and gathered firewood for the sages. She did every little job with love. The sage Matanga was very fond of her.

When the sage grew very old, and it was time for him to leave this world, he called Shabari to his side. He said softly, "Shabari, my child, one day Rama, the prince of Ayodhya, will come to this ashram. Wait for him. Look after him. When you have seen him, your waiting will be complete."

So Shabari waited.

Every single morning, she woke up before the birds. She swept the path to the ashram until not one leaf was left on it. She sprinkled cool water on the ground. She picked fresh flowers and spread them along the way, so that Rama's feet would walk on something soft.

The rains came and went. Winters came and went. Summers came and went. Shabari grew older and older, but she never stopped.

Sometimes the forest people would shake their heads. "Old mother," they said, "why do you sweep that path every day? A prince from a great kingdom will never come to this little hut in the forest."

Shabari only smiled. "He will come," she said. "Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. But he will come."

Every day, Shabari also went into the forest to gather berries for Rama. The bushes were full of little red and yellow berries. Some were sweet like honey. But some were so sour they made your whole face scrunch up. Can you make a sour face? Yes, just like that!

Shabari did not want her Rama to eat even one sour berry. So she did something very simple. She took a tiny bite of each berry. If it was sour, she threw it away. If it was sweet, she put it carefully in her basket.

"Only the sweetest for my Rama," she whispered.

Now, far away in the same forest, two young men were walking along a stony path. They were Rama and his brother Lakshmana. They had bows on their shoulders, and their faces were tired and sad. Sita, Rama's dear wife, had been carried away by the demon king Ravana, and the brothers were searching everywhere for her.

A kind spirit they met on the way had told them, "Go to the ashram near Pampa lake. An old woman named Shabari lives there. She will show you where to find help."

So the brothers walked and walked until they reached the lake.

That morning, Shabari was sweeping her path as usual. Suddenly, she heard a sound. Crunch, crunch. Footsteps on dry leaves.

She stopped. Her heart beat fast. Was it a deer? Was it a forest man coming to tease her again?

Crunch, crunch. The footsteps came closer.

Shabari slowly turned around. There, standing at the end of her path, were two young men. One had skin the colour of a dark rain cloud, and his eyes were gentle and kind. The broom fell from Shabari's hands.

"Can it be?" she whispered. "Can it really be?"

The young man stepped forward and folded his hands. "Mother, are you Shabari? I am Rama, and this is my brother Lakshmana."

Tears of joy rolled down Shabari's wrinkled cheeks. She had waited so many years, and now Rama was here, standing on the very path she had swept every day.

She hurried to bring water and washed their tired feet. She made them sit on soft mats of leaves. Then she brought out her basket of berries, holding it with both trembling hands.

"My Rama," she said, "I have nothing grand to give you. Only these berries. But I have tasted each one, so that you get only the sweet ones."

Lakshmana looked into the basket. Every single berry had a tiny bite taken out of it! He leaned close to his brother and whispered, "Brother, these berries have already been bitten. Should you eat them?"

Rama smiled a gentle smile. "Lakshmana," he said, "look at these berries with your heart, not just with your eyes. Mother Shabari tasted each one so that not one sour berry would reach me. Every little bite is full of love."

Then Rama picked up a berry and ate it happily. And another. And another.

"I have eaten in palaces," said Rama, "but I have never tasted anything as sweet as this."

Lakshmana felt a little shy. He understood now. He too took a berry, and it was the sweetest berry he had ever eaten.

When they had finished, Rama said, "Mother, we are searching for Sita. Can you help us?"

Shabari nodded. "Go to the Rishyamuka hill near Pampa lake," she said. "There lives Sugriva, the monkey king. He will become your friend, and he will help you find Sita."

Rama bowed to her with deep thanks.

Then Shabari folded her hands and looked at Rama with the happiest face in the whole world. "Now my waiting is complete," she said softly.

And a soft golden light began to glow around her, like the flame of a little lamp. Gently, peacefully, Shabari rose up into the sky and went to a happy place, far beyond the clouds, where she would never be tired or old again. Rama and Lakshmana watched her go with folded hands and full hearts.

Rama never forgot old Shabari and her sweet berries. Of all the gifts he ever received, hers was one of the most precious, because it was given with so much love.

So, my dear, the next time you share something with someone you love, will you give them the sweetest part, just like Shabari did?