Anjali stopped, her kite dipping in the sky. A soft, melodic hum rose from the beach, like the sound of a flute played far away. She dropped to her knees, pressing her ear to the ground. The sand vibrated gently, singing a tune that seemed to call her name. “Anjali… Anjali…” it whispered.

In the bustling coastal town of Kakinada, where the Bay of Bengal whispered secrets to the shore, lived a curious girl named Anjali. At ten years old, Anjali loved the sea more than anything. Every morning, she’d race to the beach, her bare feet slapping against the warm sand, her kite trailing behind like a colorful bird. The salty breeze carried the chatter of fishermen and the cries of gulls, but today, something was different. The sand was singing.

Anjali stopped, her kite dipping in the sky. A soft, melodic hum rose from the beach, like the sound of a flute played far away. She dropped to her knees, pressing her ear to the ground. The sand vibrated gently, singing a tune that seemed to call her name. “Anjali… Anjali…” it whispered.

“Amma!” she shouted, running home to her mother, who was sorting fresh prawns in their small courtyard. “The beach is singing! Come listen!”

Her mother, wiping her hands on her saree, smiled. “Singing sands? That’s just the wind, child. Or maybe the sea’s playing tricks.”

But Anjali wasn’t convinced. She grabbed her best friend, Ravi, a lanky boy with a knack for fixing broken nets, and dragged him to the shore. “Listen!” she insisted.

Ravi, skeptical, crouched beside her. His eyes widened. “It’s real! It’s like… music from the earth!”

The two friends decided this was no ordinary beach mystery. They needed to investigate. Anjali, with her boundless imagination, declared, “It’s got to be magic. Maybe a mermaid’s trapped under the sand, singing for help!”

Ravi, ever practical, rolled his eyes. “Mermaids? More like a buried radio. Let’s dig and find out.”

They fetched a small shovel from Ravi’s father’s fishing shed and began scooping sand near the spot where the hum was loudest. The sun climbed higher, and sweat beaded on their foreheads, but the singing grew stronger with every scoop. Soon, they uncovered something strange—a smooth, shimmering stone, no bigger than a coconut, glowing faintly blue.

Anjali gasped. “It’s a magic stone!”

Ravi poked it cautiously. “It’s warm. And… look!” Tiny carvings of fish and waves covered its surface, glinting in the sunlight. The moment Anjali touched it, the singing stopped, and a soft voice echoed in her mind: “Thank you, brave ones. You’ve found my heart.”

The children froze. “Who’s that?” Ravi whispered, clutching the shovel like a sword.

The voice continued, gentle as the tide. “I am Kadalamma, spirit of this coast. Long ago, I hid my heart here to protect Kakinada’s waters from harm. But the sands have shifted, and my heart was buried too deep. Now, you must help me.”

Anjali’s eyes sparkled. “Help? How?”

“Place my heart in the sea at the old lighthouse by dusk,” Kadalamma said. “Only then can I keep the waters safe.”

Ravi frowned. “The old lighthouse? That’s far! And it’s creepy. Everyone says it’s haunted.”

But Anjali was already on her feet, clutching the stone. “We’re doing it. For Kakinada!”

The old lighthouse stood at the edge of town, its paint peeling, its steps crumbling. Fishermen avoided it, whispering of strange lights and eerie sounds. Anjali and Ravi trekked across the beach, dodging crabs and weaving through mangroves. The stone pulsed in Anjali’s hands, its glow brighter with every step.

As they neared the lighthouse, a storm brewed on the horizon. Dark clouds churned, and the sea roared. “Hurry!” Anjali urged, climbing the rocky path. Ravi followed, muttering about ghosts.

At the lighthouse’s base, they found a shallow pool where the waves crashed. Anjali hesitated. “What if we’re wrong? What if it’s just a pretty rock?”

Ravi, now caught up in the adventure, shook his head. “It’s real, Anjali. I feel it.”

Together, they knelt by the pool and lowered the stone into the water. The moment it touched the sea, a dazzling light burst forth, and the storm clouds parted. The waves calmed, and the singing returned—not just from the sand but from the sea itself, a chorus of joy.

A shimmering figure rose from the water, a woman made of light and foam, with eyes like pearls. “Thank you, Anjali and Ravi,” Kadalamma said. “You’ve saved my heart and our coast. As a gift, I’ll share my secret: whenever Kakinada’s people care for the sea, my song will live in the sands.”

She vanished, leaving behind a single pearl that glowed softly. Anjali picked it up, her heart racing. “This is proof,” she whispered.

Back in town, the fishermen noticed the seas were calmer, the fish more plentiful. Anjali and Ravi told their story, though few believed them. The pearl became their treasure, hidden in Anjali’s tin box under her bed. Every morning, they’d return to the beach, listening for the singing sands. And sometimes, when the tide was just right, they’d hear Kadalamma’s voice, reminding them to love the sea.

Kakinada thrived, its shores alive with laughter and life. Anjali and Ravi grew up, but they never forgot their adventure—or the magic of their singing sands.