Sumati Satakam: Listen to all, then think for yourself

Told in English, Telugu.

It was the morning of Bhogi, and the whole village near Rajahmundry smelled of smoke from the bonfires and sweet pongal from every kitchen. Ravi was eight years old, and he had the most beautiful kite in the lane. It was bright orange with a green star in the middle, and Nanna had bought it for him from the market in town.

After breakfast, Ravi ran to the terrace to fly it. But when he reached the corner where he had left it the night before, the kite was gone. Only the spool of thread lay there, quiet and lonely.

Ravi's heart went thump, thump, thump. He searched behind the water tank. He looked under the old mat. No kite.

Just then his friend Bunny came running up the steps. "Ravi! What happened? Why is your face like that?"

"My kite is missing," said Ravi, and his voice wobbled.

Bunny's eyes went wide. "Missing? I think I know! This morning I saw Kiran, that new boy from Vizag, walking near the temple with an orange kite. I am sure it was yours!"

Ravi's cheeks grew hot. Kiran had come to the village only one week ago. He was quiet and did not talk much. "He took my kite?" Ravi said. "I am going to his house right now, and I will tell everyone what he did!"

He stomped down the stairs so fast that he almost bumped into Ammamma, who was sitting on the verandah stringing mango leaves for the doorway.

"Arey, arey, slowly, kanna," she said. "Where is this storm going?"

Ravi told her everything in one big breath. Ammamma listened, nodding. Then she put down the mango leaves and patted the step beside her.

"Sit for one minute," she said. "Long ago, a wise poet wrote a small poem for a child he called Sumati. Let me say it for you. Vinadagu nevvaru cheppina, vininanthane vegapadaka vivarimpadagun, kani kalla nijamu telisina, manujude po neethiparudu mahilo Sumathee."

Ravi frowned. "What does it mean, Ammamma?"

"It means this," she said gently. "Whatever anyone tells you, it is good to listen. But do not rush the moment you hear it. Look into it carefully. The person who sees for himself what is false and what is true, that person is truly wise and fair in this world."

Ravi thought about it. "But Bunny saw an orange kite," he said.

"Did Bunny see Kiran take it from our terrace?" asked Ammamma.

Ravi opened his mouth, then closed it. "No," he said slowly. "He only saw an orange kite."

"Then you have heard one part. Now go and find the other parts. Go kindly, and ask, do not shout."

Can you say the first line with me? Vinadagu nevvaru cheppina. Listen to whatever anyone says. Very good!

So Ravi and Bunny walked to the house near the temple where Kiran lived. Ravi's tummy felt tight. What if Kiran really had his kite? What if he said something mean?

Kiran was sitting in his yard, winding thread onto a spool. Beside him lay an orange kite.

Bunny pointed. "See! I told you!"

Ravi took a deep breath. He remembered Ammamma's words. Do not rush. "Kiran," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "my orange kite is missing. Can I please look at yours?"

Kiran looked surprised, and a little worried. "Of course," he said, and held it out.

Ravi looked closely. The kite was orange, yes. But in the middle there was a yellow sun, not a green star. And it had a long blue tail made of ribbon. Ravi turned it over. On the back, in careful letters, someone had written KIRAN.

"My father made it for me before we moved here," Kiran said softly. "The blue tail is from my sister's old ribbon. I was going to ask if I could fly with you all, but I felt shy."

Ravi felt his face grow warm again, but this time it was not anger. It was a small, prickly feeling of almost having done something unkind. "It is a lovely kite," he said. "It is not mine. I am sorry I thought it was."

Bunny scratched his head. "I only saw it from far away," he mumbled. "I should have said that."

"But then where is my kite?" Ravi wondered.

Kiran stood up. "Last night there was a strong wind," he said. "I heard it rattling our windows. Maybe it blew your kite away?"

The three boys looked at each other. Then they ran together, all the way back to Ravi's house, around the back, past the cattle shed where Lakshmi the cow was munching her hay.

And there, high up in the old neem tree, caught between two branches and fluttering like a happy flag, was an orange kite with a green star.

"My kite!" Ravi shouted.

Nanna came with the long bamboo pole, and very carefully he lifted the kite free. It had one small tear, but Ammamma fixed it with a little rice paste and a bit of paper.

That afternoon, the sky above the village was full of colours. Ravi's orange kite with its green star flew high, and right beside it flew Kiran's orange kite with its yellow sun and long blue tail. Bunny ran between them, laughing and shouting, "Higher! Higher!"

In the evening, Ravi sat with Ammamma as the bonfire glowed. "Ammamma," he said, "if I had run and shouted at Kiran this morning, he would never have become my friend."

Ammamma smiled and stroked his hair. "That is why the old poet wrote those words, kanna. Listen to everyone. Then think for yourself, and find what is true."

Ravi closed his eyes and whispered the poem once more, all by himself, as the stars came out one by one.