STORY: “SMALL LION”
by Frankie
Ok, well, now I guess I’ll start with the first story. I was in the outer courtyard one day, propped up against a tree studying my books, like a good boy, and listening to a bunch of dogs talking.
Yikes! I forgot the most important thing. I know that my Mom doesn’t believe it, but awhile back (I forget just when) a nice old lady tapped me on the head—and ever since, I can talk to animals, trees, rocks, and what’s more, I can understand them! I found out later that the nice old lady was really Sri Sathya Sai Baba, of course—in one of the many forms he takes on in disguise. So, naturally, I’ve had a lot of adventures with animals that most kids wouldn’t have. Wait ‘till I tell you about my friend the little green worm. Sounds weird, I know, but it’s one of my best stories.
Anyway, I was half listening to the usual dog-talk and studying. We were all waiting for Darshan, of course.
First, there was Doma, a pedigreed pooch from Flat A-12 who was always brought out by his nursemaid. Then there were the usual Puttaparthi street dogs, Blackie and Big Ears. They sort of thought of old Doma as their Guru, and often they would have long discussions that I couldn’t follow. Doma, an old bachelor, would quote the Vedic Scriptures and talk about renunciation.
That is why Doma was very upset this particular morning. His owners had arranged a marriage to a little Shitzu dog from Kashmir. She would arrive soon. You can imagine how the old bachelor felt, at first. By the time the little wife arrived, however, Doma was his old even-minded, detached self again. “Pleasure and pain, it’s all the same,” he said, echoing Swami.
She was named the “Maharani of the Himalayas,” but everyone called her “Rani”. Also, she was small and pretty. She probably weighed all of four pounds, whereas Doma weighed at least seven pounds. It was clear from the expression on old Doma’s face, when the nursemaid brought her out, that this non-attachment business might be a little difficult.
They were very happy, and before long they had a little son, one little puppy, black and white, like his father, and of small bones like his mother. They named him “Chota,” which means small and he was the delight of his father’s eye.
“Naturally,” said Doma, “we will recite Sanskrit slokas to him now, so that he will understand when it is time for his initiation.” So, steeped in Sanskrit, Chota grew a little older—not much bigger, but a little older.
He was cute, all right! The hair grew on his little face like the petals on a chrysanthemum. His body was a ball of fluff and he bounced rather than walked.
In addition to that, he was very brave. Sometimes he chased crows twice his size.
“My stars, Matilda, would you just look at that adorable puppy,” cooed a foreign lady. “Is he real or is he a toy?”
Even Doma was a little miffed at that.. “Humph,” he growled, “She probably has no idea what is ‘real’ in the first place.”
“Toy?” repeated the puppy, “Father, I am not a toy, am I?”
And, of course, more than anyone or anything else, Chota loved Swami. He would get smuggled into the Darshan by the Anantapur College girls. But when the Lord appeared, the little flower-petal face would peak out and gaze upon the Divine with as much love as anyone else.
One day, two of the Puttaparthi Primary School children saw Chota as they left Darshan and simply picked him up and slipped him into a book satchel. Chota didn’t make a sound, probably because he wanted to have an adventure. After the tiny tots realized what they had done, they were a little afraid to tell.
