“Bhoja, Saami & the Bharat Ratna: Big Dreams from a Small Village”

Bhoja, Saami & the Bharat Ratna: Big Dreams from a Small Village

A story of unlikely friendships, fantasy dreams, and the love that shapes young minds.

In the heart of Ponmanipudi — under tamarind trees and the wide-eyed sky — lives Saami, a boy of many dreams and few demands.

His days are spent chasing butterflies, dodging Sundarammal’s sharp but loving eyes, and following his father Dr. Chari around like a stethoscope without a chest to examine.

But lately, Saami was sulking.

“Appa,” he sighed one morning, sprawled lazily across the front steps of Sriranga Vihara.

“Why don’t we have remote-controlled toys, a house with an upstairs, and one of those magic tablets that can draw and talk and make things disappear?”

Dr. Chari, mid-sip of his ginger-laced herbal tea, raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Whose magic world are we talking about?”

“Bhoja’s,” Saami muttered, as if speaking the name invited thunder.

Ah, Bhoja. Known across school as Bhoja the Terrible. Six feet tall at age twelve, voice like thunder, fists like jackfruit, and a heart as soft as overcooked idlis.

Most students steered clear of him.

But not Saami.

Somehow, Bhoja had decided the pint-sized doctor’s son was his best friend — and there was no going back.

He followed Saami everywhere. To school. To the pond. To temple festivals. To cricket matches, where he mostly stood in the outfield and scared the ball back into the pitch.

But it was inside the classroom that things took a strange turn.

Their teacher had asked:“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Doctor!” Saami beamed, standing on his toes. “Like Appa! I’ll work across Tamil Nadu. Maybe win a Bharat Ratna.”

The class clapped. Bhoja raised a hand.

“Yes, Bhoja?”

“I want to be… a tailor,” he said with conviction. “Stitch suits. Pants. Baniyans.”

Everyone giggled.

“I will go to America,” Bhoja declared, unshaken. “Work hard. Earn money. Send money home. Maybe stitch for rich people who have six packs.”

The class went silent.

“And you, Saami?” the teacher asked again.

“I also want to go to America,” Saami admitted. “But only for two years. To learn, see hospitals, understand new ways of healing. Then come back to Ponmanipudi.”

“Why?”

“Because my people are here,”

Saami said, his eyes quietly glowing. “I want to help them. Get honour for my state. Maybe Bharat Ratna. But even if I don’t, I want to be Ratna to my Appa, Amma, Sundarammal, Thatha… and to Sita and Mylo.”

There was no laughter this time.

Even Bhoja looked proudly at his friend, nodding like a loyal bodyguard with dreams stitched inside his oversized shirt.

A Footnote of Futures

They were just boys — one dreaming of a scalpel, the other a sewing machine. One wanted a medal from the nation. The other wanted to send money home.

But that’s the magic of childhood. The laughter. The ambition. The raw, wild innocence that doesn't care about odds.

Who knows? Perhaps one day, Saami will win the Bharat Ratna.

Or at least, become a diamond in the hearts of the people he serves.

And Bhoja? Maybe he’ll become India’s first celebrity tailor in Times Square.

Either way, this is a story not of becoming great,…but of becoming true.

And that, as Dr. Chari would say,…is the greatest honour of all.....