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Would you like to meet some fantastic beasts from ‘Mythonama’?

Posted on May 12, 2022 by kavyawahi

Winged horses, tusked fish, shape-shifting snakes . . . Bovines that provide endlessly, raptors that devour senselessly. Some so colossal they block the sun, others so infinitesimal they defy vision. No myth is complete without its fabulous creatures, divine or demonic.

While exploring India’s many mythologies, Mudita and Adittya’s Mythonama introduces us to an array of animals, somewhat familiar in appearance yet incredible in ability.

Here are some excerpts from the book.

Krishna displays the fabulous Navagunjara (‘nine beings’) avatar to Arjuna, in an episode from the fifteenth century Sarala Mahabharata, composed in Odia by Sarala Dasa.

This cannot be an earthly creature, thought Arjuna, instinctively reaching for his bow. What stood before him was unseen, unheard of. A rooster’s head on a peacock’s neck; a bull’s hump on a lion’s torso; legs of a deer, tiger, elephant; a serpent’s tail; and a human hand holding a lotus—nine beings in one fantabulous form . . . Could it be divine? It is believed to be Krishna manifesting spectacularly to either reward Arjuna for completing his penance on Manibhadra Hill or, an eco-sensitive interpretation, to prevent him from razing Khandavaprastha to the ground. Realizing that a creature may not exist in human imagination but surely in god’s creation, Arjuna bows to the infinite wisdom of the universe.

BURAQ was the noble white steed of lightning speed, who effortlessly carried the Prophet ﷺ from Mecca to Jerusalem to heaven. A creature of lore, she appears in various artworks with a woman’s head, radiant mane, gem-laden crown, eagle’s wings, peacock’s tail and bejewelled throat. Some believe that the Prophet ﷺ climbed to heaven on a glittering ladder, having fastened Buraq to a wall. Today, we know it as the Buraq Wall or Wailing Wall.

MARDYKHOR (manticore) was a man-eating monster with a scarlet lion-like body, a human face with blue-grey eyes, triple rows of razor-sharp teeth, a scorpion’s tail with spikes it shot (and promptly regrew) and impenetrable hide. It hid in tall grasses, lured men (even three at a time) with its flute- or trumpet-like crooning, paralysed them with toxic stings and devoured them whole, bones, clothes and all. It moved faster than anything and could kill anything except elephants. Creepy!

RE’EM was a Biblical unicorn, or perhaps an aurochs or rhinoceros because—horn. It was strong, swift, agile, untameable and possibly untrustworthy because—pride. One touch of its horn could detox and sweeten any water. Jews believe it dwarfed mountains and dammed the Jordan with its, erm, dung. It couldn’t fit in Noah’s Ark, so it was tied by its horn, allowing it to swim along and poke its mouth in to breathe and feed.

SIMURGH was a benevolent bird deity with a canine head, lion’s claws, often a human face, peacock plumage, healing feathers and copper wings so strong it could carry a whale. It lived atop Saena, the Tree of All Seeds. When it took flight, the branches shuddered and sent millions of seeds across the world, creating life. It lived for 1700 years—witnessing the world’s destruction thrice and gaining endless wisdom—before diving, Phoenix-like, into flames.

Read in detail by getting your copy of Mythonama from a bookstore near you or by ordering online.

A curious excerpt from curious tales of the desert

Posted on April 22, 2022 by prhi-dev

Deserts hold so many stories inside of them and the Gahilote sisters (Prarthana and Shaguna) decided to bring folk tales from the dunes of Rajasthan, Gujarat, Multan and Sindh to you in the form of this beautiful book, Curious Tales from the Desert.

Here is an exclusive excerpt, a thrilling story from the book for you to read and enjoy!

Four Friends and a Thief

Rajasthan

A little after Lala Gulab Bagri shut his shop in the main market, Badru came running after him. ‘Lalaji, Lalaji, please stop,’ said Badru between quick laboured breaths.

Surprised to see his assistant chasing him, Lalaji stopped. Badru was panting as he had run after Lalaji from the far end of the market. Tonight was the first time in years that Badru had asked Lalaji permission to leave the shop before it was shut for the day. Usually, Lalaji left for home late in the evening while Badru stayed on to wind up the day’s affairs. Today, Badru had to meet a relative passing by, an old uncle who had finally retired as a soldier from the army and was going back to his native place to spend his old years resting.

‘What are you doing here?’ a bewildered Lalaji asked.

‘I have the most devastating news. I had to share it with you, so I came running,’ blurted Badru.

‘Is your uncle all right?’ inquired Lalaji, fearing the old man may have had an episode given the long travel from the city to the village.

‘Oh, yes. He’s fine. It’s something about us that I had to share with you,’ pressed Badru.

Looking at Badru’s ashen face, Lalaji could tell that Badru’s cause for worry was Lalaji’s safety and fortunes. Badru had started working with Lalaji in the prime of his youth and had been dedicated and loyal to him since. The morning he came to him seeking work was a quarter of a century ago. The market in Lalaji’s village, Amli Ka Khera, a little more than three hours away from Chittorgarh, was then just a cluster of huts. It neither had permanent structures nor enough customers to attend to. Lalaji’s ancestors were traditional thewa jewellery makers. Over the years, their exquisite designs of thewa jewellery involving merging intricately worked sheet gold on molten glass had found a large clientele not just in Amli Ka Khera but even beyond Chittorgarh district and Rajasthan. As Lalaji’s business grew, so did his coffers. Besides his jewellery business, Lalaji’s wealth came from ancestral landholdings and moneylending, which he did at high interest rates.

‘They have arrived. I just heard a group of travellers discuss their arrival with the daroga sahib,’ Badru said.

‘Whose arrival?’ asked Lalaji, a tad irritated.

Badru lowered his voice, almost whispering now, ‘Arre, theyare here. Our biggest worry. Don’t you remember?’ Badru insisted.

By now, Lalaji had lost his cool. With a long day at work behind him, he was in no mood for guessing games. He raised his walking stick to hit Badru and thundered,

‘You play games with me and I will hit you. Tell me clearly who you are talking about.’

Badru closed his eyes and screamed, ‘The thieves, the thieves!’

‘Thieves? The same thieves,’ Lala Gulab Bagri squealed as Badru nodded frantically.

Suddenly, Lalaji understood why Badru had come running to him. Badru knew what no one else in the village did. Lalaji had wound up important deals during the course of the week and had collected a large sum of money and gold. He was supposed to leave for Chittorgarh the next day and would be keeping all of his collection at home in the night. Despite his riches, Lalaji had always kept a low profile with no guards or full-time assistants working for him at home. His modest dwelling housed him and his wife, Fullara, while his two sons, Neth Ram and Dhuni Ram, lived in Chittorgarh managing the retail shops there.

For the last few days, villagers in Amli Ka Khera had had restless nights over the news of a group of thieves operating in nearby areas. The thieves were known to be extremely skilled, shrewd and showed no mercy or fear when robbing. Tales of the robberies they had carried out in wealthy homes in adjoining villages had filled their hearts with trepidation and several well-to-do businessmen had petitioned the local police to increase the security drills in their area. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the robbers would come to their village and target their homes.

Today, Badru had heard the local daroga talk to travellers about how they had received reports about one of the robbers being seen at a tea shop on the outskirts of the village in the wee hours. The travellers suspected the thieves would target Amli Ka Khera that night and were checking with the daroga if it was safe to stay the night in the village. Badru had overheard the conversation and found it urgent enough to share it with his employer right then.

Lalaji listened to Badru and signalled for him to keep quiet. He didn’t want Badru to reveal anything about his latest financial acquisitions. Badru got the hint and so, he asked Lalaji, ‘Would you want me to stay with you at the house tonight?’

‘Of course, and get everyone suspicious about the goings-on in the house. Right?’ Lalaji said sarcastically.

He told Badru to go home and not talk to anyone about the thieves. He wanted Badru to behave normally to avoid drawing any undue attention to him or his house. At home, every evening by sundown, Fullara would keep a bucket of warm water ready for Lalaji’s bath. Once Lalaji walked into the central courtyard of the house, she would brew tea, add a generous amount of milk and sugar to it and set it out with some snacks and hookah in the veranda. The husband and wife would then sit together and tell each other the details of their day. Lalaji liked telling Fullara about all the customers he had met at the shop. She had the uncanny sense to sieve the good from the bad and Lalaji had often benefited from her inputs, especially when it came to borrowers of money. Fullara had not been formally educated but knew enough about business from experience. It was wisdom borne out of this experience that Lalaji counted on.As night drew close, Lalaji told Fullara about the possibility of thieves being in the village. Fullara was alarmed, considering Lalaji had handed her a big bag of money and gold ornaments when he got back from the shop. She had hidden the bag in the attic in the kitchen with other containers filled with grains, but wasn’t sure if it was a good enough hiding place.

‘What will we do if the robbers come here?’ she asked Lalaji.

‘Don’t bring bad omens home. Don’t talk about a robbery at our place,’ Lalaji responded in anger.

Fullara bit her tongue and started cleaning up the kitchen, the last job she did before sleeping. While Fullara worked inside, Lalaji would step out to go to the paan shop across his house. This was a daily ritual. Lalaji did not sleep without eating a juicy paan, which also worked as an excuse to meet his old friends and neighbours of several years, Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi and Mullah. At the paan shop, Lalaji’s friends would talk about various things. Together, they discussed politics, business, family problems and more importantly, the goings-on in Amli Ka Khera. Tonight was an important night. Lalaji wanted to speak to his friends about the heightened fear of the robbers, who were now possibly closer than before. To his surprise, his friends had heard the same and wanted to hash over what they would do in case of an emergency.

The promises from the police department were yet to be fulfilled, and many like Lalaji and his friends were gathering groups to defend themselves in case the robbers struck them. ‘So it’s a deal. If anyone of us is in trouble, the others will rush to help him. Stay alert,’ said Eesa. ‘Call out loud so that you can be heard,’ added Khameesa.

‘And keep your sticks and rods ready at hand so that you can grab them as you run out to help,’ Kaazi was prompt to assert.

Lalaji had told his friends that he was due to travel to Chittorgarh the next morning and would only return after two days. He was tense that his wife would be in danger in case the robbers broke into his house in his absence.Mullah sensed his panic and reassured him, ‘Don’t worry, Lala. We will all sleep lightly. If bhabhi saagrees, one of us could also sleep as a guard in the courtyard outside your house when you are away. We won’t let any harm come her way.’Comforted by the promises of his friends, Lalaji got back home to find Fullara packing his bag for his journey.When Lalaji and Fullara retired for the day, he started updating Fullara on his conversation with Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi and Mullah.

‘I had a long chat with them. It has been agreed that when I leave for Chittorgarh tomorrow, one of them will sleep outside in the courtyard to protect you.’

‘Oh, who knows if that would be needed. I am good enough to defend myself,’ Fullara protested.

‘But what if the robbers are armed and large in number? What will you do?’ urged Lalaji.

‘God will protect me. I’ll think of something, don’t worry. You sleep well and travel safely tomorrow morning without a worry.’

A few hours after the husband and wife had fallen asleep, a deep pounding woke Fullara up. For a minute, she thought she was imagining things. She lay still and quiet in her bed, listening hard. There was a distinct thump. Fullara held her breath and looked at Lalaji from the corner of her eyes. Lalaji lay right next to her deep in sleep. Fullara wanted to nudge him awake, but was afraid he might be startled and make a noise while waking up. Fullara couldn’t exactly place the origin of the sound, but thought it was close. She had to quickly think of ways of stirring Lalaji and even alerting their friends in the neighbourhood. Fullara trained her ears and was certain that someone was raining blows on the wall of the adjoining room.

Suddenly, Fullara started talking aloud. ‘Oh, Lalaji. How am I supposed to do this? How do I keep all these children engaged?’ she said. ‘This is not fair. Here I am all by myself and so many children to look after. You have to help me,’ she added, this time raising her voice a little.

Adding soon after, ‘Lalaji, if you don’t agree to assist me, I am telling you I will go out and dump these children outside the house.’ By now, Fullara’s voice was loud enough to be heard beyond the courtyard and outside. The sound of the loud blows stopped as though someone was trying to listen in. Fullara heard a scuffle outside as Lalaji began to turn and get up. He looked puzzled and kept staring at Fullara. She pressed her finger to her lips and asked him to keep quiet. Outside, she could hear whispers. Like two men were talking to each other. Fullara couldn’t tell one voice from another, but she heard someone say, ‘Looks like someone inside the house is awake.’ Fullara could tell her loud conversation with herself had alerted the robbers outside. She felt encouraged to carry on.

Maybe they’ll run away, she thought. Looking at Lalaji, she pointed towards the outside wall and asked him to listen. Slowly, the pounding on the wall began again. This time, Lalaji could hear it too. He was wide awake. Fullara started waving her hands frantically. Telling Lalaji to play-act with her. At first, Lalaji was confused, but when Fullara started talking, he understood.‘Tell me, will you help me? Look at these four babies creating a ruckus. See, see how Eesa just jumped on the bed, and Khameesa dropped the flower vase,’ Fullara said louder this time. Almost like she wanted the robbers to hear. And they did. The blows on the wall stopped again. Those outside were listening in. The minute Fullara talked about Eesa jumping on the bed, someone outside remarked, ‘Seems like she’s dreaming. I know they don’t have small children in the house.’

‘What if they do and you don’t know?’ asked another voice.

‘I have checked. There are no children in the house. Besides, this woman is talking about children doing things right now. Did you even hear a sound of that?’ pronounced another.

Convinced with that argument, one man with a deep voice said, ‘Let’s carry on breaking the wall. There’s just very little to go. I am already inside. Once we are done with these last few bricks, all of you will be inside.’ Fullara and Lalaji froze when they heard that. One robber was inside already while the others were just a few bricks away! Lalaji started to get up from the bed to go to the room where the robbers were, but Fullara held his hand. The robbers were known to be merciless and Fullara did not want Lalaji to confront them on his own. Lalaji stepped back and let out in exasperation, ‘What are you saying, Fullara? What do you want me to do?’ Lalaji could tell Fullara was feeling just as helpless as he was at the moment. While their friends living close by had been alerted in the evening, the danger was too close at hand to risk shouting out to them to help. What if the robber inside the house had a weapon and attacked them? What if the remaining bricks were easy to remove and all the thieves broke into the house all at once if they heard the couple screaming for help.Even as Lalaji thought hard about what should be done, Fullara continued talking. She said, ‘Lalaji, you listen to me. You look at our four grandchildren here, they are a handful. I can’t deal with Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi and Mullah on my own. So, I am going to device a hide-and-seek game for them where the children will play the police while you will play the thief.’

Lalaji wasn’t amused. He thought Fullara was actually out of her mind to be thinking of games and imaginary grandchildren right now but didn’t bother to shake her out of it. The thieves too didn’t think much of Fullara’s banter and went about breaking what was left of the wall.With every new thump, Lala Gulab Bagri’s heart sank a little more. ‘So when you hide and the children go looking for you, I will be helping them by looking for you in the house. And when I will find you, I will be bellowing Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi, Mullah . . . here is the thief.’ Lalaji promptly understood what Fullara was trying to do. She was trying to alert his friends about the intrusion in their house. As if on cue, he asked her, ‘What will you say to the children, Fullara? Say that again, louder.’

Encouraged, Fullara howled, ‘Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi, Mullah . . . Chor, chor, chor!’

‘Say it again, Fullara,’ yelled Lalaji.

This time, Fullara bellowed with all the power in her lungs, ‘Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi, Mullah . . . Chor! Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi, Mullah . . . Chor! Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi, Mullah . . . Chor! Chor! Chor!’

Fullara was so loud this last time that her voice carried through the courtyard to the homes of her neighbours. Startled, they jumped out of their beds, racing towards Lalaji’s house. The thieves heard Fullara too and were now in a dilemma. Should they run or hide inside the house? The last of the bricks had finally fallen. Just as the thieves were approaching Lalaji’s bedroom, his friends rushed into the house with sticks and rods. On their way to the house, the four friends had raised an alarm loud enough for the rest of the neighbours to come out of their homes and surround Lalaji’s house.Once inside, the four friends marched into Lalaji’s bedroom only to see Lalaji dashing into the adjoining room where the thieves stood. Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi and Mullah bolted after Lalaji and found four well-built men standing by the broken wall. They lunged at them and brought the four thieves down with a thud. Fullara raced in with a bundle of ropes as the men overpowered the thieves with all their strength. Hearing the commotion inside, some neighbours climbed into the house where the wall had been brought down by the thieves. The thieves had now been outnumbered and didn’t move an inch, fearing for their lives. Together, the men secured the hands and legs of the thieves with the rope they had been given.

Throughout the night, Lalaji and his friends sat in the courtyard watching over the thieves who had been locked in Lalaji’s store. The thieves were to be handed over to the daroga in the morning. The men couldn’t stop gushing about Fullara’s presence of mind and how she had managed to save the situation. Lalaji felt extremely proud of Fullara. He had always depended on her for advice, much to the annoyance of his conservative relatives, but tonight he felt validated for respecting Fullara’s intelligence.The next morning, the thieves were brought before the daroga, who was stunned to hear how Fullara had got the thieves nabbed without risking her husband’s and her own life. He was all praise for Fullara’s courage. While taking charge of the thieves that he and his team had been on the lookout for, he made sure he applauded Fullara in front of the villagers.

The way back home was nothing short of a celebratory procession. Eesa, Khameesa, Kaazi and Mullah had brought garlands for Fullara and Lalaji. They danced through the village bylanes all the way from the police chowki to Lalaji’s house in jubilation. Years later, when Lalaji’s four friends and Fullara had greyed, tales of Fullara’s wit and aptitude were told to the village children. A night of endurance in the face of a crisis had turned her into a local hero and legend.

Enjoyed reading this folk tale?

There are more in abundance waiting to intrigue you in the book, get yourself a copy of Curious Tales from Desert!

What is cyberbullying?

Posted on April 20, 2022 by kavyawahi

This time, the Super Six of Ganesh Colony are up to something serious! Their friend, Lakshmi, seems to be harbouring a terrible secret–she’s being bullied online! As she receives one nasty message after another, she fears being disqualified from the tournament.

Let’s read this excerpt from Chatur Chanakya vs The World Wide Web to understand what cyberbullying is.

The next day, Arjun walked into assembly feeling determined. He’d decided to discuss his problem with Chanakya right after assembly ended. But just as the students were about to disperse after the national anthem, Dr Dolly Henry, the principal, took over the microphone and requested the students to settle down. Everyone started looking around. This urgent meeting convened by her sent a wave of murmurs through the room that was packed to capacity. It seemed that the president, trustees, secretary and other school management were in attendance too.

‘Dear students, good morning,’ Dr Henry began. ‘I know that most of you and your parents use social media. Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, Twitter and even YouTube . . . it is all helpful, we all know that. We find information and new ideas for projects and assignments online. It opens our minds to a new world of possibilities. It broadens our vision and we come to know what is happening around the world. But while we can use it to our advantage, let us be aware that it can also do a lot of harm.’

She paused and looked at the students with deep concern before continuing, ‘Yesterday, we were called by an official of the education department for a meeting. Principals from schools in Mulund and the surrounding areas were present there.’

Dr Henry continued, ‘Most of us have seen that both adults and children are quick to develop an addiction to smartphones and social media. But did you know that we are vulnerable to attack when we’re online? Even your parents can be targets of cybercrime. In the past, internet accounts have been hacked and money has been transferred from bank accounts by accessing personal information. But today, I’m here to talk to you about something closer to home.’ The principal’s eyes scanned the crowd. The children shifted on their feet; even the teachers sat up straight.

‘In the meeting, one of the school principals presented a case of a young girl from her school, who had made a friend on Facebook. The girl had accepted the friend request and been chatting with this friend regularly because after looking at her pictures, she thought it was someone she’d seen in her tuition classes.

‘One day, this friend asked her to meet up for a snack outside her school. When the girl agreed and went there, the friend was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a man came to her and told her that he was her friend’s father, and that she was waiting for her on the other side of the road. So this innocent girl started walking with this man. But his intention was to take her away!

‘Luckily, one of the schoolteachers saw her along with this unknown man and immediately sensed something was wrong. The teacher went and asked the girl who he was. When the teacher started to cross-examine the man, he ran away. The young girl was so shocked. She was so disturbed by this incident that she started to distrust all her friends.

‘The good news is that the girl is fine now, thanks to the support of her school, parents and friends.’ Dr Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

‘But,’ she added, ‘we have been asked to be cautious, given the rise in the number of cybercriminals and bullies. There have been cases of people who have been harassed and bullied by their own classmates. This is called cyberbullying.

My dear students, it is our responsibility as a school and management to tell you about this and make you aware of the dangers that are all around us.

Read to your little ones this story about cyberbullying and much more! Get your copy from the nearest bookstores or online.

About Anirudh’s dream and the adventures that follow

Posted on March 23, 2022 by kavyawahi

Here’s an excerpt from Deepak Dalal’s Sahyadri Adventure: Anirudh’s Dream, the first part of the riveting series. It’s about Anirudh’s dream and the strange events that unfolded in Pune, Mumbai, and the splendid hills of Sahyadri.

Anirudh’s face was tense an hour later when Vikram and his father escorted him to the jetties. Commander Dongre watched critically as they rigged their boat. They were almost done when Chitra turned up.

‘Is this your friend, Anirudh?’ she asked, halting beside them.

The droop suddenly vanished from Anirudh’s shoulders. He shook hands with Chitra when Vikram introduced him. ‘This is Commander Dongre,’ continued Vikram, turning to Anirudh’s father. ‘He is our host, and this wonderful bay and the sailing facilities are run by him.’

Chitra’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow! All these boats and your father in charge of them. Anirudh, you are a lucky man.’

‘He’s making use of the opportunity.’ Commander Dongre smiled, covering smoothly for his son. ‘Vikram and Aditya have spoken a lot about you, Chitra. My wife wants to meet you too. She wants to invite you to join us for dinner tonight. She’s at the spectator tent. Shall we go there? We can watch the last race together.’

Anirudh’s eyes weren’t dull anymore. Vikram didn’t try figuring out what had brought about the change; he was simply thankful for having a sunny, helpful partner. Aditya and Kiran’s boat pulled away from the jetty. Anirudh yelled and waved at them. Vikram cast off and they followed, their sail fluttering and hull creaking as their boat cut through the dark waters of the bay.

A tongue of land jutted like a breakwater to starboard, sheltering the waters of the bay, and though the lake was only gently ruffled where they sailed, ahead, beyond the protective barrier, there were waves and a deep swell. A strong wind was sweeping the lake and dark clouds were mobbing the sky.

‘Prepare yourself,’ hollered Vikram. ‘Action stations! The wind is going to belt us when we hit open water.’

The lake turned restless and suddenly, like a howling express train, the wind was upon them. The boat shuddered, listing sharply to port.

‘Hike out!’ screamed Vikram, as he pulled the rudder and trimmed the sail.

Sahyadri Adventure: Koleshwar’s Secret || Deepak Dalal

Anirudh leaned out across the water, his eyes closed. The competition had elevated Vikram’s skill at the helm several fold and a delicious thrill of accomplishment coursed through him as his Enterprise-class sailboat shot forward. The speed of the vessel was heady, the fastest he had ever achieved on a boat. They were scything forward as if jet-propelled.

The upper half of Anirudh’s body was hiked out across the water. The brilliant orange of his life jacket contrasted brightly against the asphalt-black water. His long hair was wet and his face seemed calm, exhibiting no sign of fear.

The white wake of their Enterprise boat was one of several streaking the lake. Sails flapped noisily everywhere and whoops of exhilaration reverberated across the lake. Amongst sailors, there is only one climatic condition that stokes wild enthusiasm and excitement: the wind. This was a genuine wind, and its tumultuous presence was conjuring a grand setting for the regatta’s final race.

It wasn’t long before their boat neared the far shore of the lake. Vikram tacked around and Anirudh responded like a seasoned professional, shifting smoothly to the opposite sideboard and adjusting his body weight perfectly.

An imaginary line between two buoys was the starting zone for the race and boats were already massing there. Their colourful sails seemed butterfly-like as they clustered about the invisible line. The race was to start at 3.30 p.m. and Vikram’s watch indicated it was time to join the butterflies and hover between the starting posts.

Loud voices greeted them as they fell in with the boats prowling the start zone.

‘We’re going to thrash you, Vikram!’

‘Give yourself a break, Anirudh, you’re shaking like the sails.’

‘You’re a crummy sailor, Vikram. The wind is going to sink you.’

‘Best of luck, buddy.’Though the banter sometimes sounded coarse, it was always conducted in good spirit.

Celebrating India One Story At A Time

Posted on March 17, 2022 by kgoba

Nothing encourages a young mind’s imagination like reading about an icon. From athletes who broke records to civilians who changed lives, THE PUFFIN BOOK OF 100 EXTRAORDINARY INDIANS is a celebration of India’s best.

Read on to catch a short glimpse of the diverse range of stories!

100 extraordinary indians — 100 Extraordinary Indians || Puffin Books

Pioneer Oceanographer – Aditi Pant

As young Aditi neared the end of her experimental work for her PhD in Physiology in Marine Algae from Westfield College, London, during 1971–72, she had a pressing question—what now? And fate had the answer for her. During the last leg of her programme, she met Professor N.K. Panikkar, a senior Indian scientist, the founder and director of the National Institute of Oceanography (NIO), Goa. Speaking to him, a lot of questions came up in Aditi’s mind, and one was whether India had jobs in oceanography. Professor Panikkar challenged, ‘All I know is that there is a lot of work waiting for the person who has the guts to take it up. Of course, you will get far better salaries just about anywhere else.’ Aditi took up this challenge. She dropped her plan to continue abroad, joined NIO and relocated to India in 1973 after completing her doctorate. Aditi Pant then went on to create history by becoming the first Indian woman (along with Sudipta Sengupta) to set foot on Antarctica.

Magnificent Mary – Mangte Chungneijang Mary Kom

Young Mary Kom had neither seen coach L. Ibomcha Singh before nor did she know that he did not appreciate being disturbed during his training sessions. Driven by what she thought was her calling and knowing that Ibomcha was the perfect guide for her first steps, she walked into the hall to ask the students about Oja (a Manipuri honorific) Ibomcha. A beefy man who Mary thought looked like Mike Tyson walked up to her and said, ‘I am Sir Ibomcha. What do you want with me?’ Mary said she wanted him to be her boxing coach. The coach asked who she was and asked her to wait outside till his training session was over. Mary waited and prayed that she would be accepted as a student. Oja Ibomcha finally came out and wondered why Mary wanted to join boxing. He said she was a frail girl. Pointing at her gold earrings, he remarked that she didn’t look like a boxer and that the sport was for ‘young boys’. Sensing the girl’s disappointment at his remarks, Ibomcha inquired about her family and where she lived. Finally, he said, ‘If you are really interested, you may join, but I am very strict about the routine and timing. If you can’t keep up, don’t join.’ Mary was ecstatic—she could follow her dream now.

The Clothing Man – Anshu Gupta

On a cold day in December in the early 1990s, a young journalist was scanning the streets of Delhi for an interesting story. When he saw a middle-aged man gingerly pushing a cart with his ‘wares’ hidden beneath white shrouds occupying the full length of the cart, he asked the man out of curiosity, ‘What do you sell?’ The man stopped the cart and stared at the journalist. ‘Read this, sahib,’ he said, pointing at the verbiage on the side of the cart. It read ‘laawaris laash uthane wala’. The man, Habib, picked up unclaimed corpses for a living and was employed by the police. His work involved picking up the bodies of homeless and unidentified people who had died alone on the streets or in hospitals. Each such body fetched Habib a meagre amount of Rs 20. Winters were a busy period for him because more people died due to inadequate clothing.

In another incident, the young journalist found a destitute six-year-old girl who hugged dead bodies in a cremation ground whenever she felt cold. This shook him. These incidents, as well as subsequent interactions with other underprivileged people in Uttarkashi (where hundreds of people died and innumerable people lost their homes after the earthquake in 1991) had a profound impact on this young journalist, Anshu Gupta.

The Emperor from the Deccan – Krishnadevaraya

A popular legend about Krishnadevaraya goes as follows: It was the coronation ceremony in the kingdom of Vijayanagara in the early 1500s. A new king would soon ascend the lion throne. Timmarasu, the prime minister who was affectionately known as Appaji, was happy that Krishnadevaraya was taking over the reins of the kingdom. Appaji had been a father figure, coach and mentor to Krishnadevaraya. Legend says that before the coronation, Appaji asked to see the would-be king in private as there was one last teaching to be imparted. Once alone with his mentee, Appaji slapped him across the face, leaving Krishnadevaraya stunned for a moment, but he realized that there would be a lesson in this too. Appaji explained that the young king should never forget life’s adversities and how painful punishments could be. Appaji concluded his final lesson by saying that after the coronation, he wouldn’t have the right to discipline and would only be taking orders from the king. Krishnadevaraya graciously accepted the teaching.

Once the coronation rituals ended, the king summoned Appaji and other courtiers. The new king requested the group to instruct him about the court protocols and royal conduct. Appaji, along with the courtiers, gave him advice on conducting himself, running the state, dealing with enemies, avoiding vices. Krishnadevaraya understood that as a king, his aim should be to reward the good and punish the bad. He would need to be sensible while dispensing justice—how well he followed dharma would measure his success. He put these tenets of good governance into practice during his reign of two decades.

Read the stories of our country’s greatest icons, get your own copy of THE PUFFIN BOOK OF 100 EXTRAORDINARY INDIANS from your nearest bookstore!

Dive into the world of tales

Posted on February 15, 2022 by kavyawahi

Geeta Ramanujam’s Tales from the World will take you on a long journey and introduce you to many fascinating characters. Collected from storytellers on snow-capped mountains, and in eerie forests, opulent palaces and countries near and far, the captivating folk tales in Tales from the World have mesmerized old and young alike. Travel along with this imaginative storyteller and author as she shares peculiar myths and incredible trivia from around the world in this beautifully illustrated volume of twenty tales from Russia, Japan, France, Tibet, India, Korea, Scotland and more.

Let’s read an excerpt from the book about a story from Russia.

Just after the world was created, filled with its trees and mountains and birds, God created a young maiden called Lindu, and left all the birds in her charge. She lived with her father Uko at the very edge of the world, between the sky and Earth. Lindu had the powers to recognize the song of each bird and sing them too. She knew where the birds had flown in autumn, and sent each flock on its way.

Lindu cared for the birds tenderly; she was a godmother to them. She knew how to direct winds to assist the birds as they flew to their destinations. She set fierce dust storms upon hunters who tried to kill her birds or hunt them down. It was not surprising that all the world loved her, those who dwelt in the sky most of all.

The North Star wished to marry Lindu and drove up to her father’s palace in a dusky coach drawn by six black horses. Adorned in a silver cloak and crown in shades of silver, he came bearing ten fine presents for Lindu and drove gracefully through the gates of Uko’s palace to ask for her hand.

However, Lindu was not very fond of the North Star. ‘Why don’t you want to marry me?’ inquired the disappointed North Star. ‘Well, I like to move and travel whereas you just stay fixed in one place in the sky. You are the watchtower of heaven.

Please, sir, return to your place, for I cannot accompany you there.’ Now, the moon decided to take his chances and drove to the palace in a beautiful coach of silver with six grey horses made of clouds. Dressed in white robes and a crown filled with white dewdrops, he presented her with twenty presents and said, ‘Lindu, will you be my wife?’

‘You change your face too often, moon, and that does not suit me,’ she said. The moon waned and returned to the night sky.

‘Well,’ thought the sun, ‘perhaps Lindu might like my bright gold face.’

The sun arrived in a beautiful coach of gold, led by gold and red horses, and rode through dusk to the forest where Lindu was taking care of her birds. Lindu walked up to him, bowed her head and said, ‘I know what you are thinking. I am sorry, but I love change. I love the changing seasons, the climate, the winds and anything that is not constant. You are so precious and graceful, but you have to be vigilant and cannot change at all. That might not suit me, sir.’

The sun too rode away into the purple-pink sky, disappointed and sad. Now, the Northern Light had been watching each suitor drive away disappointed and decided to ask for Lindu’s hand himself, confident that he’d be triumphant. He emerged from his home at midnight, his beautiful colours lighting up the night sky. He’d crafted a coach with diamonds, which was drawn by a thousand white horses. He wore a rainbow cloak and a crown made of gems from the sea. Behind him was another coach filled with gold, silver, pearls and gifts for Lindu. He looked radiant as he left an indigo, purple, blue and pink trail across the sky on his way to Uko’s palace.

‘Lindu,’ he called out, ‘if you marry me, you will not have to follow me like a shadow. You will not have to travel the same path as the others. You can set out anytime you wish and rest when it pleases you. Would you like to be my bride?’ He bent down on his knees to ask for Lindu’s hand.

So, what do you think Lindu said? Lindu’s choice was made.

It was agreed that the wedding would take place when the birds flew south. The wedding day was announced, and guests from the four corners of the sky and Earth arrived to bless the couple.

The torrential winds brought Lindu her silvery bridal veil and the Frost King wove her laces so fine, they had to be stored in cold blocks of ice for safekeeping. Birds from all over brought her robes the colours of butterfly wings. For her feet, she got sandals made of thick clouds and decorated with petals fallen from flowers. The weaver birds stitched them together and hid them under the cotton tree. Back to his home in the midnight land went the Northern Light, knowing that Lindu loved him best.

Jambavana- the wisest bear in the world!

Posted on December 7, 2021 by prhi-dev

In her latest book, Fantastic Creatures in Mythology, Bulbul Sharma brings to us multiple stories of never-heard-of creatures like Jambavana and Airvata or unknown dimensions of the ones we already know of, like Jatayu and Narasimha.

Here is an excerpt from the book telling the story of Jambavana, the wisest bear in the world!

Fantastic Creatures in Mythology by Bulbul Sharma — Fantastic Creatures in Mythology || Bulbul Sharma

‘When anyone asked Jambavana, the noble king of bears, his age, he would shut his eyes and think. He would smile and then continue, ‘Let’s see . . . I was present when Vamana, one of Lord Vishnu’s avatars, took three rounds of the three worlds in just three giant steps. Ah! I have even seen the golden glory of the blue-skinned Lord Krishna and heard him play his magical flute. Now that I am old, I wait here in this quiet, lonely place to serve Lord Rama.’

Jambavana was blessed from the day he was born, when Lord Brahma had yawned one morning and from his breath, this mighty bear had been created. When the king of bears was young, he was said to have had the strength of ten thousand lions. He was the strongest bear of all. In fact, he had made rounds of the earth at lightning speed several times. But now, hundreds of centuries had passed, and all the great bear did was live quietly in the forest and think about all the wonderful things he had seen in his long, long life.

One day, he looked far out to the seashore and noticed that all the monkeys and bears were running about, making a lot of noise. He knew why they were so agitated. The king of monkeys, Sugriva, in whose army Jambavana once served as a general, had told him that Rama, the prince of Ayodhya, was here looking for his wife, Sita.

Sugriva explained that the demon king of Lanka had kidnapped her and taken her away in his golden chariot. They had heard that she was somewhere in Lanka, but no one really knew where exactly she was being held prisoner. Sugriva had promised Rama that his entire army of monkeys and bears would help him rescue Sita. With folded hands, Hanuman, the cleverest and bravest of all the monkeys, sat at Rama’s feet. He was so keen to serve Lord Rama, but did not know what to do. Everyone gazed at the vast ocean that lay between

them and Ravana’s kingdom. Who could possibly cross this turbulent ocean? Which of them was strong enough to leap hundreds of feet through the air?

The waters were rough; the waves rose as tall as mountains and crashed down with a thunderous, deafening sound. Everyone gathered there knew that rakshasis guarded this ocean, and so, no one had been able to muster the courage to cross it until now. As the monkeys racked their brains, their leader Angada asked, ‘Which one of you brave monkeys will leap across the ocean, find Sita and bring her back?’ At first, there was complete silence and the monkey army did not even move. Then a few well-built monkeys stepped forward. They bowed their heads and one of them said, ‘We can jump very high, sir, and even though we are not really sure if we can cross this ocean, we are willing to try. We do not mind dying in the attempt. We want to serve Lord Rama and be loyal soldiers to our noble king.’ Meanwhile, Hanuman stood back quietly, looking out at the ocean. All he could see was an endless expanse of water and no land beyond it. Lanka seemed

like a dream! How could any ordinary monkey cross this ocean? It was an impossible task.

Whoever tried to leap across would just drown and never be found again. Hanuman sighed. His eyes filled with tears as he whispered to himself, ‘If only I could do something

to help rescue Ma Sita.’ All of a sudden, the noble king of bears, Jambavana, appeared and stood next to him. ‘Why do you stand here alone, Hanuman, with such sadness in your eyes?’ he asked in his deep voice. ‘I want to cross this ocean and find Ma Sita.

I want to serve my Lord Rama, but I don’t know how to. How can one leap across these unsafe waters? Look at those monstrous waves rising and falling like mad elephants on the run. How will I get across this cruel sea? Nobody can.’ Hanuman sighed, his eyes full

of regret.

Jambavana turned and looked at Hanuman. He took a deep breath, patted his back and said, ‘Listen to me, my son. Listen to me very carefully. I have lived a long life and I have seen things that you are not even aware of. Today, I am going to tell you something important.’ Hanuman lifted his head and looked at Jambavana.

With a solemn expression, the old bear said, ‘Hanuman, you are not aware of your great strength because of a curse cast upon you by an angry sage many years ago, when you were young. This curse made you forget everything. ‘You know that your mother, Anjana, was an apsara from the heavens, and your father, Vayu, was the god of wind. But have you forgotten that as a child you stole the very sun because you thought it was a ripe red fruit and you wanted to taste it?’ Jambavana’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

He continued, ‘Do you know the great Lord Indra threw his thunderbolt at you, but your father saved you? Furious at Indra, he stopped the winds from blowing. Soon, every living creature on Earth gasped for breath, and finally, when Indra asked Vayu for forgiveness, he blessed you with eternal life. Brahma gave you a boon too and made you invincible. With Varuna’s blessing, water cannot harm you. With Agni’s boon, fi re cannot burn you. And your father, Vayu, made you faster than the wind!’

Hanuman looked at the wise bear with astonished eyes.

Jambavana slowly nodded and patted Hanuman. ‘Look within your heart, son of Vayu, and you will find that you are not an ordinary monkey but a unique creature with more strength, wisdom and courage than anyone of your kind. I am as old as the ancient hills and I have seen a number of great warriors, but you, Hanuman, will be the greatest

amongst them.’

As Hanuman heard the old bear speak, something stirred his mind, something he had long forgotten. Jambavana’s words were like magic, and they seemed to take him to a faraway place where he was once a monkey with amazing power and strength. Hanuman could feel himself changing! Fresh blood raced in his veins and his eyes sparkled with a new-found energy. He could feel his arms and legs becoming stronger.’

What do you think happens next in this story? Was Hanuman able to cross the waters and get to Lanka?

Read more of such interesting stories in Bulbul Sharma’s Fantastical Creatures of Mythology.

Will Supersleuths be able to solve this mystery?

Posted on November 16, 2021 by kavyawahi

Rachita and Aarti have a nemesis who is out to destroy them. Garbage vandals are defacing walls of residential societies. Aarti’s birthday presents include miniature coasters. Rachita starts having egg-themed nightmares. Are these happenings related to the mysterious time-travelling detective gang that is challenging the Superlative Supersleuths? We’re all eager to find out!

Here’s an intriguing excerpt from the third book in the Superlative Super Sleuths series titled The Case of the Nosy Time Travellers.

Our sleuthing services had been in high demand since we got semi-famous last winter. I’d thought that having Vipul and Ashwin as official Supersleuths would help us manage the load, but the number of cases just kept growing. Aarti had come up with the idea of creating a website during the summer vacations. It’s been a great success: anyone can anonymously request us to solve a mystery. We encourage others to solve them too. It reduces our workload, and we feel good about keeping the spirit of sleuthing alive. Jyoti and Shilpa from our class formed a team and claimed that they’ll solve one before us one of these days. They’ve been failing miserably so far.

We had got a request two days earlier. Someone was vandalizing walls in Aarti’s apartment complex, the Shobhana Hillside View. One of the boundary walls had been smeared with garbage from the dustbins. This had been happening for just under a week. The adults didn’t seem to care much since the wall wasn’t visible during their evening walks or early morning yoga classes, but it stank up the area where the kids played football. Aarti hadn’t noticed it either—she had been busy pet-proofing her home for the last five days.

We had scouted the boundary wall before the party began. It was already dark by then, but my phone’s flashlight was enough to make some initial observations. The garbage patterns on the wall looked random. If the vandals were human, I’d expect them to leave some sort of message behind. Vandals leave messages because it made them look cool. They’d have made some art out of the garbage or arranged it to form curse words or something like that.

Interestingly, smearing trash on the walls seemed a nice way to segregate it. The wet waste remained stuck on the walls, while the dry waste slowly fell down. Could it be that the vandals understood the importance of recycling and wanted the people in the society to segregate their waste better? I noticed a glum-looking eggshell and a banana peel on the ground. I picked them up and smeared them on the wall again so that they could be back with their wet-waste brothers and sisters.

I tried to convince the security guards to show me the CCTV footage. They didn’t take me seriously, even when I tried to bribe them. I put them on the suspect list. My hunch was that the criminal was an animal, one that was really fond of playing with garbage. I’ve heard of pet owners complain about that. We couldn’t spot any strays in the society, so it was likely to be someone’s pet.

‘How many pets are left?’ I whispered into the mic. ‘Around a dozen, I guess. Over,’ Ashwin responded. ‘Make it quick, people will start to leave soon,’ I said. I’ve explained to Ashwin several times that he doesn’t need to use ‘Over’ when he finishes a message. We’re not in the 1950s any more, when only one person could speak on the radio channel at a time. But he insists on doing it because that’s how he’s seen it being done in movies.

I’d asked Aarti to invite everyone in the society who had pets, even if she didn’t know them well. She didn’t have a problem with that. For her, it just meant more gifts and more pets to cuddle with. Uncle and Aunty weren’t pleased, but they couldn’t say no. Our school counsellor must have recommended to our parents that they be extra nice to us after what we had been through.

To find out more about the spying adventures of Rachita and Aarti, read The Case of the Nosy Time Travellers.

Dreamers Series: Stories of Teejan Bai and Satyajit Ray

Posted on September 17, 2021September 17, 2021 by kavyawahi

The vividly illustrated stories of Teejan Bai and Satyajit Ray in Lavanya Karthik’s Dreamers Series are inspiring for young kids. Karthik’s stories and artworks are perfectly synced with the high and low notes of Teejan Bai’s life and have captured the most significant shots of Satyajit Ray’s life. Both of them are acknowledged and appreciated for their unique talents.

Get your children hooked to the pages of Dreamers Series and let them get inspired to hone their skills. Here’s a glimpse of the younger selves of Teejan Bai and Satyajit Ray.

The Girl Who Loved To Sing: Teejan Bai

Once again, Teejan sneaks out after her chores for lessons with her grandfather.

Brijlal gives her her first tanpura.

‘Become your characters! Become your story!’

‘Feel the music!

‘Feel the story!

‘Feel it come alive!’

Teejan sings!

‘Don’t just sing—become the song!

‘Become the characters in it!’

Teejan cannot eat, she cannot sleep! All she can think of is song.

She forgets her chores; she ignores her siblings, until one day,

Ma catches her singing . . .

Teejan runs away.

The Boy Who Played with Light: Satyajit Ray

There was light in the new home we made.

In the eyes of the family that welcomed us.

In the stories that Ma told me every night.

In the notebooks I filled with drawings, just like Baba once did.

But . . .

The shadows were always there.

They loomed in corners, watching me.

They crouched under tables, muttering and hissing.

I tried to describe them to my family.

My cousins chuckled. ‘Manik will be a writer like his baba!’

The shadows lurked in doorways.

They followed me through the house.

I thought my drawings might help.

‘What an imagination!’ Ma smiled. ‘Manik will be an artist like his baba!’

I raced through the house, up the stairs, down the corridors. The shadows followed!

‘Manik!’ my aunt called out, through the haze of the afternoon heat. ‘Play quietly! We’re trying to sleep!’

I dodged!

I dived!

I ducked!

The shadows kept pace!

Until . . . An open door!

. . .

They were stories, waiting for me to notice them.

Read The Girl Who Loved To Sing: Teejan Bai and The Boy Who Played with Light: Satyajit Ray from Lavanya Karthik’s ‘Dreamers Series’ to know what happens in the lives of these two great personalities and how did they become as the world knows them today.

Scientists, Mary, and topi rocket from Thumba

Posted on September 14, 2021September 14, 2021 by kavyawahi

In this book about the launch of a rocket from Thumba, Menaka Raman’s story and characters are sure to tap on the creative nerves of young kids. The first time when Mary heard that a rocket will be a launched from Thumba, her excitement knew no bounds. She was bitten by an inquisitive bug and had a list of questions to find the answers of. She waited and hoped to see the rocket go up in Space every day.

Here’s an extract for those who, like Mary, are eager to know about India’s first ever rocket launch.

Topi Rockets from Thumba || Menaka Raman

January 1963

Every morning, a rickety old bus would arrive in Thumba from Trivandrum and drop off a group of men.

Everyone would come out of their homes and shops, wondering what was inside the many boxes the men carried into the church, watching them as they cycled from here to there or walked together in pairs.

Mary watched too, but her friends at school did not care.

‘So what?’ said George Thomas.

‘Big deal!’ dismissed Thomas George.

‘Who cares?’ shrugged Shoshakutty.

‘I can launch a rocket all by myself!’ boasted Chacko.

‘Why does Dr Sarabhai need so many people to launch just one rocket then?’ Mary wondered.

One day, Mary and her amma were on their way to the market when she saw a car pulling up outside the church. She caught sight of a tall man unfolding himself from the back seat, and knew immediately who it was.

Mary ran right up to him once again.

‘Dr Sarabhai! When is the rocket going to be ready? Why is it taking so long? My friend Chacko can launch a rocket all by himself. Why do you need so many people?’

Dr Sarabhai’s eyes lit up.

‘Mary, you remind me of myself when I was your age. Always asking questions! Let me try and answer yours.’

It’s taking time because India’s friends from around the world are sending us things we need for the rocket launch. We have to wait for them to arrive and only then can we start to put things together. And I need the help of hundreds and hundreds of hands and minds to do it.

The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) of the United States is sending us a NIKE APACHE ROCKET. They are also training our scientists at their centres in America.

March 1963

Days, weeks and months came and went. Mary turned ten. Ouso made her ayala fry, Amma stitched her a new dress and her brother gifted her his old bicycle.

Some days, Mary would cycle by the church to see if she could catch sight of the rocket.

But there was no rocket.

Mary studied hard for her exams, praying they would not launch the rocket while she was writing her maths paper.

They didn’t.

She spent the summer holidays learning swimming in the lazy blue sea.

Nothing.

Mary celebrated Palm Sunday, Easter Friday and Onam.

Mary was disappointed.

But her friends at school were not.

Sometimes, Mary wished she was one of the pigeons that sat on the rafters high up on the ceiling of the church so that she could see what was happening inside.

September 1963

By now, Mary knew some of the serious men who worked in the church. She knew where they were from and what they ate for breakfast. She discovered they were not so serious after all. And since Dr Sarabhai wasn’t always there to answer her questions, she had started asking them instead.

Mary: What are the parts of a rocket?

Scientist 1: A rocket has four main parts: the nose cone, fins, rocket body and engine. The nose cone carries the main cargo or payload of the rocket.

Mary: How do you launch a rocket?

Scientist 2: Rockets burn fuel in the engine and this creates exhaust. The hot exhaust comes out very fast in one direction pushing the rocket in the opposite direction! WHOOSH!

To know the answers to Mary’s numerous questions about Space and rockets, read Topi Rockets from Thumba.

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Category: Excerpts

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