The amazing world of stories

It was another Saturday, yet, full of promises of a bright day ahead.

A story was awaiting its turn to be revealed, to be told to a bunch of 80 enthusiastic and
mischievous children from class 7. On the occassion of International Literacy Day , Pratham
Books aimed to reach out to children across India and the globe, by way of storytelling...in
several languages.

There are a lot of us, and especially our children, who are inclined, yet, oblivious to the world of
books, of education. None of us, however, are oblivious to the amazing world of stories.

One such, called "Paplu Rakshas" (Paplu the Giant), was what I had taken upon myself to share with these bubbling handful. These 80 children, at the very sight of artoicles for activity (chart paper, packets, bags in my hand), began to scream, "teacher, when will you give the chart papers to us? Are there colours for us this time, too?"

After managing to quiet them down, without lowering their eagerness, I explained to them how would we go about the story and activity.  And so began the story of Paplu the Giant...

80 inquisitive, exuberant children listened to me, hanging on to every
word I read to them, aloud. Catching on to every nuance, intonation,
and question. They raised their hands to answer questions, they
shouted out loud to mimic an imaginary Paplu. The story was letting
them be, the narration, setting their imagination free. With child like impatience, they began to predict what-happened-next-situations. They giggled. Their curiosity for the better of them.

Every response from them oozed creativity and their rich imagination egged them on to more. I
had planned for a lot of conversation in between the storytelling. It added to the narration. It
brough them close to the experience. Once the narration was over, they split themselves into
groups.

Restless hands began to look for colours, pencils, erasers. Deft fingers began to etch Paplu's sketch on to the chart papers. The verandah where I was conducting this session was abuzz with excitement and mumbles, in the same breath.

Once sketched, it was Paplu's turn to get dressed in newspaper dresses. Beautiful ideas,
vibrant colours, and witty explanations spread through the air. Each group stepped up to
"present" their creation to the rest of their classmates. With pride in their eyes, joy in their
hearts and smiles upon their lips, they displayed their work. 

Happy faces bowed to thundering claps of their friends, and said their good byes for the day. Here's to their spirit, and to the amazing world of stories.



Team Work



Clothing the Kind Giant



Paplu in Making

The children painted a picture from their mind's eye

Life's A Poem: 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Here's lot 4 of the "a poem a day challenge". Have taken the creative liberty to attempt different shades.
Let me know what you think...

April 19

A burn poem. I actually wrote a poem titled “burn” earlier in this month’s challenge, so I’m going to have to think a little on this to avoid repeating what I’ve already written. However, burn can represent many things–from getting burned by a bad deal (or a friend) to feeling the burn when working out to physically burning from fires.

The Burnt Breakfast

On the stove, the pan was put,

The Fire kindling, jolly good.

In went a dollop of butter lo,

Not caramel, so the flame was low.

Aside she stood, beating two eggs,

With some milk in it, and pepper-salt to taste.

Beaten to a fluff, the batter went in,

Swish it let out, promising a crust not so thin!

The Fire still low, was burning bright,

The omelette cooked and hissed, to her delight.

She turned to the other flame instead,

On it rested two slices of bread.

And a fan of multitasking she,

Forgot the two flames in a glee,

Whilst she ran to switch the radio on,

The low flames kept burning on.

And while she tuned her station in,

She flipped through the morning paper too.

All this while she a picture quaint,

And the toast blackened, the omelette seared.

And when the smell of burnt food wafted across the room,

She ran to the stove, to watch them charred, and saw them to their doom!

April 20

Write a beyond poem. The poem could be beyond human comprehension. It could be from the great beyond. It could be from beyond–another city, country, planet, solar system, dimension, etc. Don’t be afraid to go above and beyond with it.

His Master’s Love- Beyond Common Belief

Will wag its tail, to see you home

Will follow you, despite the chide

All for one acknowledgement, for love.

He will wait for you to pet his coat

And will pounce on him who dares you so

He unconditionally loves you, and is always,

Believed to love you just for food

But He writhes at this misgiving, yes

Tis not food O! Master, tis never food

You feed my canine soul with love, And I

Reciprocate it, in double measure.

For your gentle fondness of my yelp,

My run to you when you ope that gate,

My mischief and every play-fetch date,

Your words to me, that you think I don’t get,

O Master, I do, every bit.

And that is what keeps me going,

All your words, and all your biddings,

Are for me, my reason to be,

And  that, my Master, is what I truly treasure.

April 21

Write a senryu. A senryu is like a haiku with less restrictions and different subject matter. It’s a 3-line poem with a traditional 5/7/5 syllable (or sound) pattern, and the poem typically deals with the human condition. But that’s about all. No cutting words, seasonal words, or focus on nature. In fact, many people who claim to write haiku are already writing senryu.

it rings and he checks

her number just wrecks

his sanity

 

April 22

A complex poem. Complex is a complex word that can refer to mental state, apartments, difficulty of a situation, and so many other complex situations.

And the world thinks I am a complex number

A+Bi is as simple as I can be

You say there are two sides to me

One real and the other imaginary

I help you solve some mysteries though

Of science, math, engineering and lo

You call me complex, when I uncomplicate

And help you understand the intricate!

April 23

Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. In fact, this is one I include with every challenge. Here are your options:

·         Write a love poem.

·         Write an anti-love poem.

Anti Love (of laziness)

Arise, Awake, the Sun’s shining bright

With all its might, it pleads, be a sprite

For the world, and for your sake too

Don’t give in to lethargy, oh no, that is not what you are meant to do!

So stand up, and run, and listen and talk,

Ride you o! the waves, till you flock  

With like-minded souls, who know not laziness

With open hearts, who aim to spread happiness

April 24

An auto poem. Auto could mean automobile, automatic, automaton, or any number of possibilities.

Life in Auto Pilot

The music plays, and Nature whirrs,

What does your soul stir?

What stories, dreams and aims concoct,

Some ideas that your head and heart begot.

Few words uttered, those deeds done,

Some have a recourse, yet some undone.

It is not a bad thing, though,

To throw your worries, out of your window,

And watch yourself sail through it,

That’s Life, in auto pilot

 

Life's A Poem-18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13

April 13

A comparison poem. The poem could compare one person with another, or it could compare one thing against itself. Or it could take a comparable direction.

Fear versus Hope

One cripples, other tickles,

Your Life, and Dreams.

One hushes, the other pushes,

Your Voice, and You.

One bickers, while other flickers,

Your View, and Stance.

April 14

A sonnet. For those who are not familiar with the sonnet, it’s a 14-line poem that rhymes.

If you were me

If you were me, then you would see,

It is not easy, to display that glee.

To hold forth, on what the world shuns,

To trudge on, to stick to ones guns.

If you were me, then you would find,

It comes not easy, to be good to the unkind.

To smile in sorrow, not scream in pain,

To be more patient, nothing’s in vain.

And you will see, beneath that face,

Hides a soul that seeks solace.

And eyes that best can con you, yes,

To believe all is good, when the soul’s in distress.

And a smile, that cheats you to agree,

Here’s a jester, a gabber, who is so carefree.

April 15

An infested poem. There are many different infestations–from physical infestations to infestations of the heart and soul.

The Breaking Free of a Fear-Infested Soul

Chained to it, he crawled in pain,

Chained he was, did courage feign.

His words did often him betray,

He let them hold their sway,

For all that while, but now he knew,

That Fear infested souls do too,

Need to break the chain of pain.

And so he thought, so did practise,

With every day, with more chastise,

He dared the Fear away.

Then back it sprung, from depths so rare,

They yanked him back, and did him scare.

Then one fine day, he did resolve,

To let not that Dark Beast evolve.

With every might, he fought his plight,

And to his utter delight,

That fiend began to bite the dust,

And he began to gain in Trust.

With every passing day, it fled,

An inch first, and then a cinch it led,

To his victory over that ungainly beast,

That fled and was now begone,

To leave him woe-free, those chains undone.

April 16

Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Here are your options:

·         Write a possible poem.

·         Write an impossible poem.

An impossible Poem

Through day, and night,

Through joy and plight.

On anything plain, and topics mundane,

And on those complex.

Both deep and meaningless, in the same breath,

Gibber, gabber, talk, and blabber,

Connect, jest, stoke and ponder,

That song this, and topic yonder.

It knows not to remain still for long,

So it labours nonstop, oh yes, it does, that Tongue.

April 17

An express poem. This might be about an express train or express delivery. It might have something to do with expression painting.

Eyes, Smile, tears, and Cheers

Words, Silence, Praise, and jeers

anger, Love, Strengths, and fears

They are yours to put forth, for now, and years

April 18

Take the phrase “I Am (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “I Am Superman,” “I Am Wonder Woman,” “I Am Out of Nickels,” “I Am Running Low on Patience,” and so on.

I Am a Dreamer

Watch your words, and watch your steps

Hold that spite!

Shove that nay out of sight.

I thrive on you, your words and actions.

I feast on promises, on tomorrow, on Hope.

A strong Faith, can, a mountain move,

A potent Will, will all barriers remove

Life's A Poem: 12,11,10,9,8,7

Here is lot two of the A Poem a Day Contest; to jog your memories: http://vasundharabahuguna.blogspot.in/2013/04/lifes-poem-654321.html

April 7 2013

A sevenling poem: 7-line poem that features two tercets and a one-liner in the final (third) stanza. The first two stanzas should have an element of three in them that can either play off each directly, work as juxtaposition, or have no connection whatsoever. The final line should work as either a punchline, weird twist, or punctuation mark.

What’s the day today? They echoed in tune,

The Sun, Moon, Stars, Skies, and Earth in one line,

Tis Third of June.

But ‘twas still May, to their dismay,

And some stars in Heaven still in Fray,

A few days more, till they held their Sway,

 

Yes! It works!! (This is the way.)

 

April 8 2013

An instructional poem. Your instructional poem could list instructions. Or it could capture an instructional moment.

You Choose

Despair for Hope, Darkness for Light- believe, smile

Bad for Good, Rude for Kind- understand, listen

Unfair for Fair, Sad for Happy- follow, try

Cowardice for Courage, Greed for Contentment- fan, satiate   

Lie for Truth, Plight for Might- holdfast, resolve

Flight for Fight, Slight for Right- lead, reason

Live for these, and you will find, there is Life beyond your daily grind

Every day, brings in its fold, a bit of rain, and Sun, and shine

April 9 2013

Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Write one of the following (or both):

·         Write a hunter poem.

·         Write a hunted poem.

The Hunter and the Hunted

In all of us, though what we say,

Lies a hunter and a waiting prey;

While that seeker surveys, aims and conquers,

The victim fears every step and ponders:

What will prevail, for one so frail,

Always doubting , always pale;

The hunter trounces that thought,

Hunted finding itself in a spot,

Looks inwards and with memories fraught,

Goes in hiding, where it best ought.

April 10 2013

A suffering poem. A person or animal in the poem could be suffering. The poem itself could be suffering.

The Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart

Forced to bear it with silence, their piercing looks,
Unsure why;
So they talked to each other, to find reasons fair,
Always it was, though, on the sly;
“I’ll not wag”, she said to him, “And you try to not feel that pain”.
‘Twas a promise made, a deal sealed,
So the Tongue and Heart, their state concealed.
For years, they trudged on with that show,
Till the Tongue said to him, raising her left brow,
“We have suffered in silence all this while. Let us give up, not worth our while.”
The Tongue was sure, the Heart was scared,
From that moment, they began, they dared,
The Tongue, to lash at people fair, the Heart to seethe, its rhythm flared,
At every passer by, or him, who raised his voice (at them),
They did ensnare.
And thus, with every passing day, they learnt to live in dismay.
They knew their plight, with it could not part,To every other person though, they were the Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart

April 11 2013

Take the phrase “In Case of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles could include “In Case of Emergency,” “In Case of Oversleeping,” “In Case of Snoring,” or something else.

In case of Boredom

Read that book, try to cook!

Click a picture, money’s not a stricture.
Ride your bike, or opt for a hike,
Paint a scene, play that game, go fishing.
Paste that stamp, walk the ramp,
Jog to the nook, swim down that brook,
Dance to your tune,
Sing those notes, play that beat,
Hit the garden to prune!
Walk the road, talk to them,
Hobbies from such pastimes stem

April 12 2013

A broke poem. The poem could be about a broken record, broken relationship, or someone who is just flat broke (no money).

The Wrist Watch

The Father asked, “What gift do I bring, from there, to you my child?”

The child, as coy as a child can be, smiles, and knows no joy.

But does not speak, only motions through her head, no toy will do,

Oh Father, choose to come back soon, no gift I want, but you.

The Father smiled, and hugged his child,

He knew her well, that she beguiles.

No words were said, but thoughts exchanged,

And the Father brought back with him, a beautiful wrist watch, silver framed.

She knew no joy, to the door she ran,

The Father saw her, and began,

To unwrap the gift he brought to his child.

Slowly, as each layer opened, with excitement feigned,

She watched spellbound, and yelled in joy,

It was a watch, and not a toy!

It shone on her tiny wrist, the watch,

She wore it through the day;

And through the night, till she went to bed,

So to, the next few days.

Then one morning she ran to bather, with her gift upon her wrist,

Two dips later, she recalled, and her tender heart near split.

 

Thoughts #2: Life’s A Journey

The sea of human beings stared and wobbled, as the train chugged into the station. The clock in the station master’s room struck.  1900 hours. The cool evening breeze blew, forcing everyone to wrap their arms and clothes around themselves.

And then, the sea began to pour forth, bursting at the seams. All hell broke loose, with every passing moment. People scrambling to get aboard the train…young mothers scurrying with young ones in tow; families clinging together for fear of losing sight of their loved ones…still jostling ahead, for a foothold’s worth of space-on the platform and the train.

Once on board, a different world on wheels awaited every passenger. No space to stand; leave alone walk to reach your seat. The train was filled cheek by jowl with people wrestling to make way…and get some place to lodge themselves. Scary, for the sheer numbers that were in; unreserved, and they were in; reserved, and they tried to get in; some trying their luck to get in; some cursing theirs for having to let “it” go. The Railway Police Force did not show up…nor did the station authorities. What could they have done? The power of multitudes, is a fear (for the one who fails in his duty) to reckon with!

It was a cold evening in early February this year.

After a lot of shuffling, wrestling, and word mongering did everyone get on to the train. Now, how does one get to the designated seat? How does one move. Well, push came to shove. Lo and behold, everyone managed to fit in.

As the train chugged out of the station, chaos and anxiety was writ large on every passenger’s face. More than half the people onboard travelled without a ticket, unreserved, and with sheer grit, bordering solely on Faith.  They had to get off at Allahabad…to take a dip in the holy waters of the Ganges; on the most auspicious day of the year~ Mauni Amavasya. Time it takes to reach there by train from Varanasi? About two and a half hours. Time that train took? Five and a half.  All trains ran thus…all passengers inconvenienced: those who missed theirs, ones who got on with Hope of reaching for the holy dip on time, and those who got on to any which way.

While I can’t represent the voice of people aboard that train, I can speak for myself…and spell my thoughts on this out. Here are a few:

My first thought was of utter disdain and anger. How can we let people, who have no business being there, in?!? What a poor facility management. What ruckus. Damn you!

As the train covered a kilometer or two, quarrels and verbal duels rent the air. I tried to steer clear… anger mounting. Huddled into one corner of discomfort, I sat through those five and a half hours; tried telling people to not squat on the floor… or to mind their elbows and luggage loosely tied together in bundles.

After a few kilometers more, I thought, what made these people board a train that they knew would be full of people, who would dislike their presence? Be full of disdain towards them? Furthermore, what made them sit patiently, in one corner, just smiling back to everyone and anyone who was rude to them? My heart went out to them.  Not once did they talk back; never did they argue. Yes, they knew they had no business being there, but there they were, riding high on the waves of their Faith; and on Hope, that they will make it.

My conversations with a few revealed they had been journeying for close to two-three days now. They had been afoot for more than 48 hours! Slowly, some passengers stopped spewing venom at them. Perchance they realised what drove this lot.

At 0130 hours when the train arrived at Allahabad, all of them got off the train…as if keen to move to their ‘aim’.  The rest of my journey was beset with discomfort…but that did not matter to me. I thought, and some more, of these people I just rubbed shoulders with.

Their Faith and Hope were two factors that aided them. They were the reasons why the people did not shout back, or give in to their fellow passengers’ coaxing. Not, the fact, that they had no business being there. They were just there for a different purpose. Nothing else mattered.

The next day word spread fast that there was a stampede at the railway station. True to their lot, the newspapers threw up pictures that elicited sympathy, fear and pain from the readers. My thoughts went to my co-passengers from the previous day.

A few questions, remain with me: when authorities know it for a fact that this is to happen, why not plan for it in advance? Perhaps the answer lies in the sheer multitudes of our country; perhaps, in the inability and lack of foresight of those in power.

P.S: Am glad this post sees the light of the day. It stayed half-written, for a few days…and how I writhed in disgust towards self. Everything has a time; A Time when it happens…a book half read, a draft half written…a word untold…comes through, eventually.