Sumati Satakam: Ants that beat a mighty snake — unity

Told in English, Telugu.

It was the long summer holiday, and all the cousins had come to Nanamma's house in the village near Guntur. There was a swing tied to the big neem tree in the courtyard, and everyone wanted a turn.

Ravi was the tallest and the strongest of all the cousins. He sat on the swing and would not get off.

"Ravi anna, it is my turn," said little Chinni.

"No," said Ravi. "I am the strongest here. Nobody can make me get off. What can any of you do to me?"

Chinni's eyes filled with tears. The other cousins grumbled, but Ravi only swung higher and laughed.

That evening, after a dinner of hot rice, pappu and mango pickle, the children lay on mats on the terrace. The stars were coming out one by one. Nanamma sat with them, slowly fanning herself.

"Nanamma, tell us a story," said Chinni.

Nanamma looked at Ravi and smiled a little smile. "I will tell you a story from an old poem," she said. "Listen carefully."

Long ago, at the edge of a mango grove, there was a red anthill. Thousands of tiny ants lived inside it. They were very small, smaller than a grain of rice, but they were busy and happy. They carried food together, built their tunnels together, and looked after each other.

One hot afternoon, a huge black snake came sliding through the grass. He was long and shiny and very proud. He saw the cool, shady anthill and said, "This will be my home now."

The oldest ant, a wise little ant named Chitti, came out and bowed. "Sir, this is our home. Thousands of us live here. Please find another place to rest."

The snake laughed a loud, hissing laugh. "You? You are so tiny I can hardly see you! I am mighty and strong. What can you do to me?"

And he pushed his great body against the anthill. The top of it broke, and many ants tumbled out in fright.

That night, the ants gathered together in the deepest tunnel. Some were crying. Some were angry.

"We are too small," said one young ant. "We should just go away."

"Wait," said Chitti. "One ant is small. Ten ants are small. But all of us together? Together, we are not small at all."

The ants went quiet, thinking.

"Tomorrow morning," said Chitti, "when the snake is resting in the sun, we will all come out at the very same moment. Not one by one. All of us, together."

The next morning, the snake lay curled beside the anthill, warm and sleepy, feeling very pleased with himself.

Then something tickled his tail.

Then something pinched his back.

Then, all at once, thousands and thousands of ants came pouring out of every little hole, like a red river. They climbed onto his tail, his back, his head. Each ant gave one tiny bite.

One tiny bite is nothing. But thousands of tiny bites at once? Oh, oh!

"Stop! Stop!" cried the snake, twisting and turning. He shook and he wriggled, but for every ant he shook off, ten more came. He could not fight them all.

At last, the mighty snake slid away as fast as he could into the far forest, and he never came back to the mango grove again.

The ants mended their anthill together, and they lived there happily, busy as ever.

Nanamma stopped fanning. The terrace was very quiet.

"A wise poet wrote about this in the Sumati Satakam, long, long ago," she said. "Can you say it with me? Balavantuda naakemani, paluvuritho nigrahinchi palukuta melaa. Balavantamaina sarpamu, chalicheemala chetha jikki chaavade Sumathee."

The children tried, slowly, line by line.

"What does it mean, Nanamma?" asked Chinni.

"It means this," said Nanamma. "If someone thinks, I am strong, what can anyone do to me, and quarrels with many people, is that wise? No! Even a mighty snake, when it is caught by many tiny ants, meets its end. Being strong does not make you safe if you make everyone your enemy. And being small does not make you weak if you stand together."

Ravi was looking down at his hands.

"Nanamma," he said quietly, "I was like that snake today, wasn't I?"

Nanamma stroked his hair. "A little bit, kanna. But the good thing about a story is that we can learn from it before it is too late."

Ravi turned to Chinni. "Sorry, Chinni. Tomorrow you can have the first turn on the swing. And I will push you."

Chinni smiled so wide that her eyes crinkled.

The next morning, the courtyard was full of laughter. Ravi pushed Chinni, then Chinni and the others pushed Ravi, all together, one, two, three, and he flew higher than ever before.

"See?" called Nanamma from the kitchen doorway. "Together is always stronger."

And near the neem tree, a long line of tiny ants marched along, carrying a crumb of sweet pongal, all of them working as one.