Saami’s Secret Kingdom: A Boy, His Dogs, and the Dream to Heal

Sriranga VN
Jul 30, 2025
3 min read

Kannaaa.....

🍃 Saami’s Secret Kingdom

“Don’t call me Kanna!”

Saami had told them all — Paati, Amma, even the milkman.

“My name is Saami. Just Saami.”

Not that silly baby name. Kanna sounded like a lost puppy. Saami was sharper. Wiser. A name worthy of someone who understood insects and silence.

Saami sauntered off toward the far corner of the farm, where the wild mango trees whispered their ancient secrets. This was his kingdom — tucked behind thick foliage, where sunlight barely filtered through and creepers curled around fallen logs like resting snakes.

Amma hated this part of the farm.

“It’s haunted,” she’d muttered once, shuddering. “That tree’s seen too much.”

But Saami loved it. It was mysterious and quiet — like the inside of a conch.

He climbed onto his log throne, his scepter a crooked stick, and surveyed his leafy domain. Mylo and Sita, his loyal dogs, padded behind him as always — one settling under the log, the other curling beside his feet like a guardian.

Here, Saami didn’t have to talk.

He listened instead — to the crackle of beetles, the sharp buzz of red bugs, the rustle of a lizard’s sprint. Once, he had seen a snake glide past — so calm, so sure, it almost seemed like it nodded at him.

He had never told anyone about the snake.

They’d only worry. But Saami wasn’t afraid. He knew animals were not to be feared — they were friends who never used words to lie.

Today, he spoke softly to Sita.

“You know, Appa is a magician,” he whispered.

“He can look at a man and know what's wrong — like he’s reading a secret book inside their chest.”

Sita looked up at the word “Appa” and wagged her tail gently.

“Ayyappa anna told his friends under the peepal tree that Appa gave him a pill, a herb, a mantra, and some advice. And boom! His numb leg became normal in three days. Imagine that!”

Saami puffed up with pride, his chest swelling like a frog preparing to sing.

“That’s why I want to be like him. My Appa — Dr. Chari — he’s not just a doctor, he’s a healer. The kind the birds trust and the old people bless. I’ll grow up and be like him. Maybe better.”

Mylo yawned and leaned against Saami’s knee. Sita thumped her tail once more. They approved.

From the house, a voice rang out — half stern, half lullaby:

“Kannaaa… baa ma! Come drink your milk, kanna… And I’ll tell you the story of the king who slayed the six-headed demon!”

That was Paati — Sundarammal, with her jasmine hair and hands that always smelled of camphor and herbs. Her lap was the softest bed in the world. And her stories could turn a dull evening into a mythic journey.

Saami stood up quickly, brushing off leaves.

He’d come back to his forest court later.

Right now, there was milk to drink, a tale to hear, and his grandmother’s lap to curl into.

As he ran, he sang a tune he had learned from Appa’s morning chants — half-mantra, half-nonsense — and his dogs chased at his heels, trying to trip him playfully.

"Ah! What a beautiful life!"

Saami laughed as he ran across the red-earth yard, sunlight kissing his cheeks.

Somewhere behind him, the mango trees swayed and whispered:

“You’ll make a fine magician, Saami. Just like your Appa.”