Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

Sunday, 19 January 2014

Generous soul



 
Image courtesy of artemisphoto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net


Sitting on the tree I looked longingly at the ripe jackfruit. The smell was over powering, the sight tempting. Yet I feared to approach it. The crows would attack us. Jhilmil my companion was restless. She wanted to run and nibble at it but was forced to wait.  Time stood still. The crows were taking longer than usual. Jhilmil let out a yawn and went off to asleep.

“Shoo, Shoo”. That was the lady of the house a beautiful young lass of twenty plus. She was a dear, a kind -hearted soul.  I had often seen her feed the stray cats and dogs that ventured near the house. She stroked them, spoke to them and fed them. Only the other day I had seen her attend to a wounded dog. I often wished she would cuddle me. The very thought tickled me.

“Thud.”

That was Jhilmil.  She had fallen off from the branch. I saw the lady running towards us. Wide awake, Jhilmil ran up again.  I looked through the corner of my eyes and saw the lady let out a sigh of relief hand pressed over her bosom.

“Shoo, Shoo.” The crows had returned. The lady sent them away. She looked at me and smiled.  She had sent away the crows so that we could partake of the Jack fruit feast. We jumped at the opportunity.

“Ah! Tasty, isn’t it?” Jhilmil asked.

Nodding my head I looked at the lady. She was there looking at us lovingly, stick in hand waiting to ward off the crows that were looking at her with stealthy eyes.

The next morning on waking up Jhilmil asked, “What is today’s menu?”

Looking at the Jamun tree I said, “The lady has left a handful of Jamuns for us. Generous soul, may God bless her.”




This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for 
Indian Bloggers
 by BlogAdda

This time the prompt was 
Write a story/ incident (200-300 words) from an animal's perspective"

 


Inviting you to visit my blog  Fabric of Life too, to read the latest


Please leave your footprints in the form of comments and suggestions. Your words mean a lot to me.

Sunday, 24 November 2013

The failure






The year 1995
Day – A sunny Saturday
Date - Hmmm…..Sorry can’t recollect



"Ammu get up it is time to light the lamp," I said.

It was 6 pm and my daughter was fast asleep. I had reached home a little early that day hoping to go out shopping with her. But here was ‘Valiyamma’ (literally meaning elder mother in Malayalam . By the way ‘Valiyamma’ was the lady who took care of my daughter when I was away at office. She had joined us when Ammu my daughter, was only 10 months old. ) telling me that Ammu had not changed, nor eaten a morsel after coming from school. Now that was strange. The happy – go- lucky person that she was, Ammu was not one to brood or act like that. "Maybe sick," I thought. I went to the bedroom only to find her lying on the ground between the wide open doors of the steel cabinet. I touched her forehead. No, not a fever. Then what? 

I searched through her school bag only to come across her first unit test answer papers. I knew my answer was there. She had scored well in all but Physics. I understood why she had acted thus. I realized that this was the first of the many failures she might have to face in the coming years. I felt sorry for her yet,was also thankful that it had come early in life. This was her opportunity to understand that life was not a smooth ride. It was a combination of failures and successes and that while she took successes in her stride she had to cope up with failures gracefully . Ammu was one who was always in the top five in her class. So I could well imagine what a shock it might have been for her when she did not manage to make it in physics. 

She finally woke up. I led her to the dining table where a hot cup of tea and snacks were waiting for her.She was silent. I coaxed her to have something. I did not ask her about the papers on purpose. I wanted her open up when she felt so. She could take her time.

Suddenly she burst into tears. I let her be. Then slowly in between the tears she mumbled, “Amma, I failed to make it in Physics.”

“Ok. We will talk about it later. First have your tea and then go and change.”

“Amma, do you hear I failed. Are you not angry with me?”

“No I am not angry with you. Now have your tea. We will talk about it later.” Thus consoling my daughter I waited for her to have her tea and change her school uniform. Then slowly we got to the topic.

“Ammu, tell me dear what went wrong?”

“Amma, you know it is the first time we are studying physics. I cannot understand what the teacher teaches. In fact that is the case with all of us.”

“How many got through?”

“Only two.”

“Well then, if you don’t understand what she teaches why don’t you tell her.”

“We tried several times. But she gets angry with us, scolds us. So we no longer ask her.”

“Then you should have told us dear, we would have talked to her. In fact I will speak to her tomorrow itself.”

 “No. Don’t do that," she pleaded. "She will be angry. Promise you won’t talk to her.” I gave in.

“Then promise me the next time you don’t understand something you will tell me or dad. We will clear it for you.”

She agreed. A light lit up her face. She gave me a tight hug and left to read her favourite magazine. 

Monday morning on returning from school she told me how the other parents had reacted to the failure of their children. No one was spared. In fact everyone was surprised that she had got off without anything, neither a harsh word nor any kind of humiliation. They told her she was lucky.

One month later

The next unit test results came. She scored the third highest marks in physics. I knew she had prepared well. But I was not prepared for this. I congratulated her only to be told with a smile, “Thank you amma for having stood by me. This was the least I could do for you. Do you know all my friends were surprised. They asked me how I managed it. I told them it was you who helped me. Your confidence in me and my abilities spurred me to take on the challenge bravely.  ”

Two months later

The half yearly exams were conducted. This time she raised the bar and the result was there before us in ten days time. She had topped the class and had also topped in the physics paper scoring an impressive 95. I was happy the failure had not disheartened her but had motivated her. I knew she was ready to face failures, take them as challenges and surge forward. My little girl also taught me a very valuable lesson on parenting. She taught me that love and understanding instill a sense of confidence in a child. It motivates them to give their best whereas harsh words and humiliation demotivate them and make them take extreme steps, steps we parents later regret in life.


Failures are no doubt the stepping stones to success but to convert them to success one must also be willing to take on the challenges they throw at us.



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for 
Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

 

This time we had to write a post including the sentence - 

"This time she raised the bar."



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Friday, 25 October 2013

“Look Gama is here.”








Tara was throwing a tantrum. She refused to have food. She spit, she cried, she hit at her mother. However the mother in Reena was not ready to give up. Finally when all her efforts failed, she used her ‘Brahmastra.’  The ‘ Brahmastra’ was a joke  in the neighbourhood.  Gama the vagabond though harmless was a nightmare as far as the tiny-tots were concerned. His unkempt look, fiery eyes sent a chill down their spine. For all his looks, Gama was actually a loving person. He loved children, but his looks scared them away.   However, he was a hit among the street dogs.  They loved Gama; they played with him, slept with him, stood guard on him.

Looking at Baby Tara, Reena suddenly exclaimed, “Look Gama is here.”  The mouth opened suddenly and there went down a ball of rice mixed with curd. Ball after ball of rice went down the throat in quick succession and before Reena realized it, the plate was clean and empty. Reena felt a pang of guilt, guilt at having to tell a lie to make Tara eat, guilt at having to portray Gama as a demon come to harm Tara if she did not eat, guilt at having instilled a fear in the little babe. But then what could she do?

Sweet slumber overpowered Baby Tara.  She slowly drifted into deep sleep.




Image courtesy of 
Mantas Ruzveltas at FreeDigitalPhotos.net


Four houses down the lane –


All hell was loose. Vani was screaming at the top of her voice. Varun was bathed in mud.  He was least bothered about his mother’s ‘tantrum.’ Varun was thoroughly enjoying his mud bath. Even the stick in Vani’s hand did not affect Varun. Vani was at her wit’s end. Exhausted, she was on the verge of tears. What if Rajeev reached home now and saw the boy in this shape? What if her mother-in-law decided to pay them a surprise visit? She knew what to expect. The boy would get a taste of Rajeev’s hand. Her MIL would start off counting her ‘minuses.’ Vani could not bear both. Suddenly she saw a figure in the distance coming down the road. She called out to Varun, “Look Gama is here.” Varun sprinted to the tap and started flushing down the mud from his body. Vani silently thanked Gama.


The shopping mall-


Neha was having a tough time. Little Priya had taken fancy to a doll house. But Neha could ill afford it. She tried to reason with Neha. She offered to buy her a Barbie instead. But Neha was a born fighter. She was not one to give up easily. She started to yell at the top of her voice. Heads turned. One or two tried to cajol Neha. Some passed by making a comment on the inability of young mothers to reign in their young ones. A girl offered Neha a ‘Five star’. Priya started to feel her heart sink. Neha’s health did not permit her to cry endlessly. She would start suffocating in a few minutes. Suddenly she saw of a vagabond on the road opposite the Mall. She cried out, “Look Gama is here.” The name acted like a switch. She forgot the doll house; she only wished to be in her mother’s arms. She ran to Neha, embraced her in a tight hug, eyes closed. Priya forgot the vagabond.

The slum on the outskirts of the town-


Children were playing a game of “Pittu.” Suddenly, the ball flew high hitting Akash on the head. All the children ran to him. A brawl started between the two teams. It looked as though blood would spill on the street. Suddenly from nowhere appeared a vagabond. “Look Gama is here” so saying, little Shikha ran up to him. He dug into his pockets and brought out a handful of cheap jelly sweets. The brawl broke. Hell broke loose around the vagabond. Everyone wanted to make sure they got their share of the sweet that Gama had so lovingly brought for them. They showered him with kisses. Gama smiled flashing broken teeth. His day was made.



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for 
Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

This time we had to write a post in which one sentence was to be repeated at least thrice.



Thank you for walking in. By the way don’t forget to leave your footprints in the form of comments and suggestions. 
Your words mean a lot to me.