When Saami Fought Saraswathi — A Ponmanipudi Story on Music, Failure, and Grace

WHEN SAAMI FOUGHT SARASWATHI.....

(A Ponmanipudi Story which will grip you)

Saami held the violin like it had personally betrayed him, sitting cross-legged..

The Violin rested awkwardly between his left shoulder, chin and ankle, creaking softly, protesting its placement like an old door that hadn’t been oiled in years...

He drew the long bow.

The sound that came out was not music.

It was… a complaint.....a shriek....ayoo..

A long, tortured screech echoed through Sriranga Vihara.

A crow on the neem tree immediately responded with a sharp kaaaw!, and felt offended...

From under the bench, Mylo let out a gentle, sorrowful howl — not loud, not angry — the kind that says, I understand your pain, but please stop...

Sita, ever dignified, lifted one eyebrow and cocked her head.

Her eyes seemed to say,

It’s alright. You’re embarrassing yourself. But carry on saamulu....

Saami dropped the bow.

“I can’t do this, Thatha,” he groaned.

“My fingers don’t listen. The violin hates me. Even the animals are protesting.”

Srirangam Narayana Sastrigal, sitting cross-legged nearby, didn’t flinch.

He adjusted his angavastram calmly.

“Good,” he said.

Saami blinked.

“Good-aa......thathaaaa.....?”

“Yes,” Sastrigal replied.

“When even crows react, it means you are finally being heard.”

Saami stared.

“That’s not comforting, Thatha.”

They tried again.

Saami placed his fingers carefully, exactly as taught.

Another note emerged — thin, shaky, uncertain.....saaaa......reeeeggggggaaaa...booommmm....

The crow flew away this time. It was sure a lunatic had descended to offend it...

Mylo stopped howling and sat quietly....givingup...

Sita gave a slow blink — approval, perhaps.

Saami smiled for half a second.

Then his wrist slipped....and twisted...the bow rolled over...aasassaaaa....

The violin screamed again...

Saami slammed the bow down.

“I’m done,” he announced.

“I’m not meant for music. Violin hates me.”

Sastrigal rose slowly.

“Come,” he said.

“Let us go to the mantapa.”

The Mantapa stood majestically gazing at the sky, quiet except for wind and distant temple bells.

Sastrigal sat Saami down....cross- legged...

“Tell me,” he asked gently,

“when you were a baby… did you walk the first day?”

“No.”

“Did you fall?”

“Yes.”

“Did you cry?”

“Yes.”

“Did you say — I’m not meant for walking?”

Saami shook his head.

“Why?”

Saami thought.

“Because… babies don’t think like that.”

Sastrigal smiled.

“Exactly.

Children don’t judge the journey.

Only adults do.”

Saami lowered his eyes.

“Music is not something you do, Saami,” Sastrigal continued.

“Music is Saraswathi herself.

You don’t conquer her.

You serve her.”

Saami frowned.

“So she’s angry with me?”

“No,” Sastrigal said softly.

“She is testing whether you want results… or a relationship.”

The words settled quietly like incense.

“The world runs on vibration,” Sastrigal continued.

“Planets move in rhythm.

Hearts beat in tala.

Breath follows raga.

Music is not art — it is existence remembering itself.”

Saami swallowed.

“So what should I do?”

Sastrigal looked at him kindly.

“Stop asking the violin to obey you.

Ask yourself to obey the practice.”

Just then, footsteps approached.

Dr. Chari entered the Mantapa, violin case in hand.

“I heard protests from crows,” he said lightly.

“I thought either music class or political speech.”

Saami groaned.

“Appa, don’t laugh. I’m terrible.”

Chari opened his case and tuned his violin gently.

“I don't say I am great either,” he said. "But I can play the violin and dance with my Muse, Saraswathi, in reverence..."

“And I learned something important.”

He played a simple tune — not perfect, not brilliant — but alive and in-tune with nature..

The sound didn’t totally impress. Nor repel..it was pleasant and uplifting...

It settled...

Mylo lay down.

Sita closed her eyes.

Chari stopped.

“Saami,” he said,

“the first time I played, my violin cried in pain too.

But I kept showing up.”

He smiled.

“Music doesn’t come to those who play well.

It comes to those who return every time....until Saraswathi blesses you.....”

Saami looked up.

“Return where?”

Chari tapped his chest.

“To patience.

To humility.

To the beginner mind.”

Saami picked up the violin again.

This time, he didn’t force the note.

He listened.

He breathed.

The sound that came out was still imperfect —

but it no longer screamed....it did not jaar...

The crow didn’t return.

Mylo sighed contentedly.

Sita opened one eye.

Better, her look said. Continue...

Saami smiled.

“Thatha,” he said quietly,

“I think Saraswathi didn’t reject me.”

Sastrigal nodded.

“She never does,” he said.

“She only asks — will you stay even when I don’t sound beautiful?”

That night, as Saami practiced softly under the stars, Dr. Chari stood nearby.

He whispered, half to himself:

“Every art teaches the same lesson…

stay long enough,

and Grace learns your name. Love comes...”

And somewhere between the Mantapa and the sky,

music — still rough, still young —

began to feel like home....began to blossom...Saraswathi began the Dance of Muse.....