Amma smiled and pointed to the mountain path. “Tomorrow, carry this pot of water to the temple on the hill. Along the way, you’ll meet three people. Offer them water. But use the word ‘apne’ when you speak to them. Then come back and tell me if the word made a difference.”
Once upon a time in a small village nestled in the hills of Uttarakhand, there lived a young boy named Raghav. He was known for his kindness, but also for a habit that worried his grandmother—he rarely used the word “apne” (meaning “one’s own” or “of us”). Amma smiled and pointed to the mountain path
Raghav shrugged. “What difference does a word make, Amma?” Offer them water
The next morning, Raghav set off. The pot was heavy, and the path was steep. Soon, he met an old woman struggling with a bundle of firewood. Remembering Amma’s words, he said, “Come, apne mata ji. Rest and drink some water.” The old woman’s eyes softened. She sat down, drank, and said, “Bless you, apne beta.” For the first time, Raghav felt a strange warmth in his chest. He was known for his kindness, but also
He ran back to Amma and hugged her. “You were right,” he said. “‘Apne’ turns strangers into family. It makes the world less lonely.”