The spirit smiled and dove again, returning this time with a silver axe. “Is this yours?”
One fateful day, as he swung his axe at a branch overhanging the river, the axe head slipped from the handle and plunged into the deep waters. Ramayya was devastated. Without his axe, he could not work; without work, his family would starve. Desperate, he sat by the river and wept, praying to the gods for help.
Pleased by his honesty, the spirit dove a third time and brought up his old, rusty iron axe. Ramayya’s face lit up with joy. “Yes! That is my axe! Thank you!”
Moved by his genuine distress, the river’s divine spirit—often depicted as a celestial being or the river goddess Godavari herself—appeared before him. The spirit asked, “Why do you weep, my son?”
Ramayya, though astonished by its beauty, shook his head. “No, divine mother. My axe was made of plain iron.”