Shravana Kumar, the devoted son

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, before Lord Rama was born, there lived a boy named Shravana. He lived in a small hut at the edge of a forest with his mother and father. His parents were old, and they could not see. Their eyes had grown dark many years before.

But Shravana was their eyes. Every morning he woke before the birds, fetched water, cooked their food, and guided them by the hand wherever they wished to go. He never grumbled. He never said, I am tired. When his mother smiled at him, he felt it was the best reward in the whole world.

One evening, his father said softly, Shravana, my son, your mother and I have one last wish. We wish to go on a pilgrimage, to visit the holy rivers and temples before we grow too old. But how can two blind people travel so far?

Shravana smiled. Do not worry, Nanna. I will take you.

The next day, Shravana made something clever. He took a long, strong bamboo pole and tied a big basket to each end. In one basket he seated his mother. In the other, his father. Then he lifted the pole onto his shoulder, with one basket in front and one behind, and began to walk.

Can you imagine carrying your Amma and Nanna on your shoulders, all the way across the land? That is how much Shravana loved them.

They travelled for many days. Shravana walked through hot sun and cool rain, over hills and across fields. When they reached a temple, he told his parents everything he saw. Amma, the gopuram is so tall it touches the clouds. Nanna, the river is sparkling like silver. And his parents folded their hands and prayed, their hearts full of joy.

One evening, they came near a thick forest by the banks of the river Sarayu. The sun had gone down, and the sky was turning dark.

Shravana, said his mother, my throat is so dry. Is there any water nearby?

I can hear the river, Amma, said Shravana. Rest here under this tree. I will bring water quickly.

He gently set the baskets down, picked up his clay pot, and walked into the darkness towards the sound of the water.

Now, in that same forest that night, there was a young prince who loved to hunt. His name was Dasharatha, and one day he would be the King of Ayodhya and the father of Lord Rama. Dasharatha had a special skill. He could shoot an arrow at something without seeing it, just by hearing its sound. People praised him for this, and he was very proud.

That night, Dasharatha was hiding near the river, waiting quietly, hoping a wild animal would come to drink.

Shravana reached the water's edge. He bent down and dipped his pot into the river. The water rushed into it. Glug, glug, glug.

In the darkness, Dasharatha heard the sound. Aha, he thought. That must be a wild elephant drinking water. He did not stop to look. He did not stop to think. He pulled back his bowstring and let the arrow fly towards the sound.

Whoosh.

Then came a cry. Not the trumpet of an elephant, but the voice of a boy. Ah! Who has done this?

Dasharatha's heart went cold. He dropped his bow and ran to the river. There, on the bank, lay a gentle young boy, with the pot of water spilled beside him.

Oh no, oh no, cried Dasharatha, kneeling down. What have I done? I thought you were an elephant. Forgive me, please forgive me.

Shravana looked up at him. He was not angry. His voice was soft and quiet. I am not thinking of myself, he said. My mother and father are waiting under the tree. They cannot see, and they are very thirsty. Please, take this water to them. Tell them their son loved them very much.

Then Shravana closed his eyes, and he did not open them again. His journey on this earth had ended, but his love stayed behind, bright as a lamp.

With tears falling down his face, Dasharatha filled the pot and walked slowly to the old couple.

Is that you, Shravana? asked the mother, smiling. You took so long, my dear.

Dasharatha could hardly speak. I am not your son, he said at last. I am Dasharatha. I made a terrible mistake. And he told them everything.

The old parents wept and wept. Their hearts were broken. At last the father spoke, his voice trembling. O prince, today you have parted us from our beloved son. One day, you too will know how it feels to be parted from a son you love.

Dasharatha bowed his head. He knew the words were true. Soon after, the old parents left this world too, and people say they went to be with their dear Shravana once more, all three together again.

Dasharatha never forgot that night. Many years later, when he was an old king and his dearest son Rama had to go away to the forest, Dasharatha remembered the river, the clay pot, and the gentle boy. And he understood the old father's sorrow at last.

So, my dear, Shravana teaches us two things. First, how precious our parents are, and how lovely it is to care for them. And second, Dasharatha teaches us to always stop and think before we do something that cannot be undone.

Now close your eyes, and give Amma and Nanna a big hug in your heart. Goodnight.