Vemana: The raindrop that became a pearl

Told in English, Telugu.

It was raining softly in the little village near the sea. Bujji sat on the verandah beside his Tatayya, swinging his legs and watching the drops fall from the roof.

Bujji was quiet tonight, and Tatayya noticed. "What is troubling my little one?" he asked.

Bujji sighed. "Tatayya, in my new class there are some boys who are very loud. They laugh a lot, but they tear other children's books and never do their homework. They want me to sit with them. And there is one boy, Kiran, who is quiet and kind. He draws beautiful pictures of boats. I don't know where to sit."

Tatayya smiled and stroked his white moustache. "Do you see these raindrops, Bujji? Let me tell you a story about two of them."

Bujji moved closer. He loved Tatayya's stories.

"Long ago, high above the sea, there was a big grey cloud. It was the time of the Swati star, when the old people say the rain is very special. Inside that cloud lived two little raindrops, Chinuku and Tunuku. They were best friends.

"One night, the old wind came whistling by. He said, 'Little drops, listen to me. Tonight you will fall. Far below, near the rocks, there is an oyster. Once in a long while, she opens her shell to look at the sky. If a Swati raindrop falls inside, something wonderful happens. But she will not wait long. When she closes, she closes.'

"Chinuku's eyes went wide. 'Something wonderful? What is it?'

"'You will see,' said the wind, and off he went.

"Tunuku only giggled. 'Who cares about an old shell? The sea is huge and splashy and fun! I want to land with a big plop!'

"Then the cloud gave a great rumble, and down they went, falling, falling, through the dark night air.

"Chinuku looked down. The sea was wide and silver in the moonlight. Where was the oyster? Then, near the black rocks, Chinuku saw it. A small shell, open just a little, shining softly.

"'Tunuku, come with me!' Chinuku called. 'This way!'

"But Tunuku was spinning and laughing. 'No, no! I'm going to the big waves!'

"Just then, a gust of wind pushed Chinuku sideways. Oh no! Chinuku was being blown away from the rocks. Down below, the oyster began to close her shell. Slowly, slowly, the gap grew smaller."

Bujji held his breath. "Did Chinuku make it, Tatayya?"

Tatayya leaned in. "Chinuku stretched and leaned with all the strength a tiny raindrop has. The wind dropped for just a moment. And plip! Chinuku slipped through the very last little gap, and the shell closed tight."

Bujji let out his breath with a happy whoosh.

"And Tunuku?" he asked.

"Tunuku landed in the open sea with a big splash, just as it wanted. It mixed into the water and became part of the waves, rolling and tumbling. It was happy enough. But it was just like all the other water now. No one could tell it apart.

"Inside the shell, it was dark and quiet. Chinuku felt a little lonely at first. But the oyster wrapped it gently, layer upon layer, day after day, month after month.

"Many seasons later, a fisherman's daughter named Lakshmi was walking near the rocks. She found an oyster washed up on the sand. She opened it carefully, and inside, there was a pearl, round and white and glowing like a tiny moon.

"Lakshmi gasped. 'Amma! Look what I found!'

"And that little pearl was Chinuku, the same raindrop, now shining brighter than ever before."

Bujji clapped his hands. "So the raindrop became a pearl!"

"Yes," said Tatayya. "And our great poet Vemana wrote a poem about this very thing, hundreds of years ago. Listen."

Tatayya closed his eyes and said slowly:

Chippalo badda swati chinuku mutyambaye, neeta badda chinuku neeta galise, brapti galugu chota phalamela tappura, Vishwadabhirama vinura Vema.

"Can you say the first line with me, Bujji? Chippalo badda swati chinuku mutyambaye."

Bujji said it with him, carefully, word by word.

"What does it mean, Tatayya?"

"It means this. The Swati raindrop that falls into the oyster shell becomes a pearl. The raindrop that falls into the water simply mixes into the water. When something reaches the right place, its good fruit will surely come. Both drops were the same, Bujji. Same cloud, same sky, same night. The only difference was where they landed."

Bujji was quiet for a long time. The rain pattered on the roof.

"Tatayya," he said at last, "the noisy boys are like the big splashy sea, aren't they? It looks fun. But if I sit with them, maybe I will just become like them."

Tatayya's eyes twinkled. "And Kiran?"

"Kiran is like the oyster shell," said Bujji slowly. "Quiet. But kind. Maybe with him, I will learn to draw boats too. Maybe I can become a pearl."

Tatayya laughed and pulled him into a warm hug. "My clever little raindrop. Every child has a pearl waiting inside. Good friends and good places help it to shine."

The next morning, Bujji walked into his classroom. The loud boys waved at him from the back. Bujji waved back politely. Then he walked to the front and sat down beside Kiran.

"Can you teach me to draw a boat?" he asked.

Kiran's face lit up like the moon on the sea. "Of course!" he said.

And that was the start of a shining friendship.

Good night, little one. May you always find your oyster shell.