18/05/2026
The Promise š¢
This is a true story.
I have changed the names.
But the incident is real.
Tiruchirappalli. Srirangam. On the banks of the River Kaveri.
Two people.
Ranganathan. Age 80.
Alamelu. Age 75.
Married for 60 years.
They had only one son.
He died in an accident 25 years ago.
Their daughter-in-law remarried and left.
They had no contact even with their grandson. š
At home, only the two of them remained.
No longing.
No bitterness.
Because both of them had a purpose in life.
Every morning at 5 a.m., Ranganathan would wake up.
He would go to the Kaveri river and bathe.
Then he would go to the temple entrance.
There, beside a large vessel of water, he would serve buttermilk and drinking water to devotees free of cost.
As he handed it over, he would say:
āRanganatha.ā
Alamelu would remain at home.
At 10 a.m., she would cook:
Sambar rice
Curd rice
At noon, she would sit near the entrance of the house.
Passersbyā¦ pilgrimsā¦ wandering monksā¦ beggarsā¦
Whoever came, she would call lovingly:
āCome, eat before you go.ā š
Both of them received a pension.
ā¹8000 a month.
Out of that, ā¹6000 was spent only on this service.
The remaining ā¹2000 was for medicines and food.
People in the town would ask:
āGrandpa, why are you doing all this?
You struggled and earned this money.
You have no children with you now.
For whom are you saving?ā
Ranganathan would smile.
āBrotherā¦ 60 years ago, Alamelu and I made a promise.
Even if we had no children, even if we had no support, till our last breath we must feed someone and give water to someone. That is all.ā š§š
One day. During the Vaikasi month. Blazing afternoon heat.
Ranganathan was distributing buttermilk near the temple entrance.
Suddenly, he felt severe chest pain and collapsed.
People rushed him to the hospital.
The doctor said:
āHeart attack. He is 80 years old.
Surgery is not possible.
Maybe 2 daysā¦ maybe 2 weeksā¦ thatās all.ā
Alamelu broke down.
At 75 years old, she cried uncontrollably.
āPlease donāt leave me alone.
What will I do by myself?ā š
Ranganathan slowly opened his eyes.
Held her hand.
āAlameluā¦ donāt cry.
I want to ask you something. Will you do it?ā
āTell me.ā
āIf I dieā¦ do not stop this work of serving buttermilk.
Our promise was not only till I lived.
The promise lives as long as you live.
Will you continue?ā
Alamelu cried and nodded.
āI willā¦ I promise.ā
Three days laterā¦
Ranganathan passed away.
He had wished to leave this world while serving buttermilk near the temple entrance.
Instead, he passed away at home. š
The next morning. 5 a.m.
Alamelu woke up. Bathed.
She took the large vessel Ranganathan used.
Filled it with Kaveri water and buttermilk.
She could barely lift it.
She was 75 years old.
Dragging it slowly, she reached the temple entrance.
Same place.
Same time.
āButtermilkā¦ anyone want buttermilk?ā š„
People were shocked.
Her husband had died only yesterday.
And today she was already serving buttermilk again.
One person asked:
āMotherā¦ why arenāt you observing mourning?ā
Alamelu wiped her tears and smiled.
āSonā¦ the sorrow belongs inside my house.
But the promise belongs at the temple entrance.
Even if he is gone, the promise remains.
Drink the buttermilk, sonā¦
Ranganatha.ā
From that day onward, every single day:
Morning 5 a.m. ā Alamelu at the temple entrance with buttermilk.
Noon 12 p.m. ā Alamelu at her doorstep serving rice.
Two duties.
One old woman.
75 years old. Alone.
Two years later.
A newspaper carried a story:
āThe Buttermilk Grandmother of Srirangam.
77 years old.
For two years she has been serving free buttermilk and food daily to 200 people, fulfilling her husbandās promise.ā
The District Collector came to meet her.
āMother, we want to give you an award.ā
Alamelu folded her hands respectfully.
āNo need for an award, sir.
Just buy me a new vessel.
The old one has developed holes.
More people are coming now. It is not enough.ā
The Collectorās eyes filled with tears.
That eveningā¦
At homeā¦
Alamelu sat on the veranda holding Ranganathanās photograph and spoke to him silently.
āCan you hear me?
Even today I served buttermilk to 200 people.
I served rice too.
Two years have passed without you.
But I do not feel burdened.
Because I still have work.
I still have the promise.ā
āWhere are you now?
Near the temple entrance, arenāt you?
Every day when someone drinks buttermilk saying āRanganatha,ā it feels as if you yourself are drinking it.ā
āI am peaceful.
Because I am not alone.
The promise is with me.
And you are with me too.ā
At the age of 85, Alamelu passed away.
At the temple entrance.
While serving buttermilk.
A vessel in her hand.
āRanganathaā on her lips.
Even today, near the temple entrance at Srirangam, there stands a large vessel placed there by local youngsters.
On it is written:
āRanganathan ā Alamelu Buttermilk Shelterā
A promise never dies.
Buttermilk Free.
Ranganatha. š„
Friendsā¦
This is not just a story.
It is real.
It appeared in a Tiruchi newspaper in 2018.
Longing will come.
If there are no childrenā¦
If there are no close relativesā¦
Loneliness will come.
Despair will come.
Especially when one stands alone at the age of 80.
But peaceā¦
Peace can exist in a promise.
Peace can exist in a vessel of buttermilk.
Peace can exist in a handful of rice.
