Poetry, Prose and Paintings by Treya

A Kite in the Leaves

Story and Illustrations by 

Treya Mukherjee

(Awarded the 'Ruskin Bond Award: Budding Writer Category' 

Dehradun Literary Festival 2022 

I

The sky is blue,

The wind just right.

Come on, get up

Let’s fly your kite!

 

  

It was a breezy happy day, with bright sunshine and dandelion puffs.

Dragonflies hovered around, their wings gleaming yellow in the sunlight. A little bird flitted through the leaves as the clouds chased one another in the sky. It was a day on which you feel like doing nothing in particular, but unfortunately have ten thousand things to do.

It was on such a day that Cheli sat in her front garden, her hands clasped around her knees, beaming at the sky, and nodding to the occasional butterfly. 

She firmly believed in doing things whole-heartedly. When she relaxed, she did so with abandon. She had enjoyed a nice little breakfast of aloo parathas, aam ka achaar and nimbu pani, and was now looking forward to a day of glorious laziness. She had spent a instructive morning so far, and made friends with a little ladybird and a friendly crow, who had come to help her finish the last bit of aloo parantha.

 

 

II

Catastrophe!

Calamity!

Oh no, not I!

You know I can never get that kite to fly!

 

 

But today she could not relax wholeheartedly. She had a lot of homework to do over the weekend but she did not want to do it. Cheli felt aggrieved, as she had been studying the entire week and wanted to rest. 

She got up irresolutely, wondering if she dared not complete the work. A man was walking down the road with his head bowed. As she saw him, Cheli forgot her own troubles, and wondered why he looked so sad. “Good morning,” she called over the bush.

The man walked up to the bush and leaned over it. “It’s certainly a good morning in your garden, though I’m not sure about the rest of the world. Well, young lady, you seem to be spending a lazy day.”
“Not in the least,’’ said she cheerfully. “I consider looking at birds, trees, flowers and bees extremely productive. Who knows, I may even meet an Ent?”
The man laughed – “Yes, it’s always good to do what you enjoy. But haven’t you heard the news?’’
“No, what kind of news?”

“Bad.”

“Somehow, it always is. I’ve noticed that people are always eager to give you bad news, especially the media. For example, the sun is shining and the parrots are streaking across the sky. A coppersmith in the trees, a bulbul on the wall. Yet no one tells you that.’’

“Very well, I will give you both good and bad news. Which would you like first?”, asked the man.

‘’The bad, I think.”

“Yes, it’s always good to get over with unpleasant things quickly. Well, they are going to convert this neighbourhood into an industrial estate and put up factories and things and cut down the trees.”

“They surely can’t do that?’’, cried Cheli.

“In a moral sense, no. But they are doing it.”

 

“And what are we going to do?”

“What can we do? They’re a big, powerful company.”

Cheli considered this. Then she said: “The way I look at it is that if you can’t do anything about it you’re wrong, and if you can do something about it - well there’s no use in just complaining.”

The man looked at her thoughtfully, then as the clock struck, he politely excused himself.

 

She shouted after him – “What about the good news?”

He turned and shouted back – “We’re not going to let that happen.”

 

 

III

Don’t give up

Like the spider just try!

I am sure together

We can be the sky!

 

She turned to go back in to the house; the day was spoiled for her anyway- she would have to spend the day indoors doing that boring work. She noticed another man. He was walking down the road grumpily. A crow stood on the road eating a bit of parantha in front of him.

“Why me?” bitterly remarked the man to the crow. ”Why must I always drop everything as though the only thing I was born for, was to fetch and carry for the company.” The crow flew off and landed a little way down the road.

“Oh, it’s all very well for you!” said the man. “You don’t have any work to do!”

The crow looked outraged and let out a caw. He let go of the bit of paratha and pointed towards it with his beak.

“Oh that’s not real work. You don’t have to slave for a company night and day.’’

The crow looked resigned and cawed. It seemed to him it was the same thing. Everyone worked to get food. 

Cheli saw the interchange and promptly forgot about her homework. “Good morning”, she yelled above the chorus of the crickets. “Where are you off to, this fine morning”?

“I’m on my way to work”.

“You don’t look very happy about it”, she said inquiringly.

“I’m not,” burst out the man.

Cheli asked: “Is it just for today, or everyday?”

“Everyday. Everyday I get up in the morning and hope it’s a holiday, but it never is. Everyday the work increases, and I feel like a hamster on a wheel – a man on a mobius strip. You move forwards and go backwards.”

‘’I’ve heard that somewhere before, thought Cheli.

The man walked down

With an aim in view

He had to get home precisely at two.

The man walked on till he thought he’d reached

But then he paused and let out a screech

Said the man “oh no!

I’ve landed up precisely,

where I was before!”

 

“Like Alice through The Looking Glass!”, she spoke out loud.

He laughed and said “Yes”! You know I haven’t read a book in months”.

 

“You just said your office is like a treadmill. Why don’t you escape sideways.”

“I couldn’t just leave! I can’t even catch up with work if I just miss a day of office.”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to leave the office. But you could always leave the treadmill!”  

The man had been brooding, not really listening to Cheli. Now he spoke again. ‘’And on top of all that work, they told me yesterday night that I had to give a a speech today. I hate speaking in public.”

“And are you going to?”

“I have to, or I will lose my job”.

Cheli was looking straight in front of her. She suddenly asked excitedly: “Can you hear the kite fluttering in the leaves.”

“You mean, fluttering in the breeze. Where is it?”

She pointed to an enormous old tree with green and yellow flowers. In between the green and yellow, a strip of blue showed.

“It’s like a bit of sky trapped in the branches of a tree, isn’t it?”

The wind increased.

“And its trying desperately to get away. A tree may be nice for a visit, but not for ever, if you’re a kite.”

 

As they watched, the kite broke free and a gust of wind carried it off. The kite fluttered and danced in the breeze.

The man looked pleased. “I always like to see kites free. Now that one is really free, with no strings attached.”

He suddenly jumped. “What’s the time?”, he asked.

“It’s a quarter to nine.”

“Oh no! I have to reach the office by nine. The bus would have left. What am I going to do!”

“Well, walking over the hydrangeas won’t help.  Hmmm, you could take my cycle?”

“I haven’t cycled for years,” he said doubtfully.

“Really? Then you must take my cycle!”

“But, that’s impossible, it’ll be too small for me….”!

‘’You should always believe at least six impossible things before breakfast or - even after.’’

IV

The sky is blue

But - not quite.

That dab of red there

Is my kite! 

 

Two minutes later, the man found himself on a well-kept blue cycle with a  loud and cheerful bell. After the first few moments when he was sure he would fall off, he rode happily with the wind coursing in his ears. He managed to reach the office with a few minutes to spare and quickly walked into the conference hall. He sat down on one of the chairs on the stage and removed a few stray leaves from his hair.

He put his hand in his pocket to take out the speech but his hand met with emptiness. He tried the other pocket and found a furry green caterpillar with beady eyes. A cold wave swept over him.

The hall was full now and everyone was looking at him expectantly. He stood up and cleared his throat, ‘’Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.” He stopped and looked down at the caterpillar in his hands. The caterpillar blinked in encouragement. 

‘’Ladies and gentlemen”, he began again. “Good morning. And what a wonderful morning! If you will all kindly move towards the windows, thank you. If someone would kindly switch off the AC, I will now proceed to open these windows.

Ladies, and gentlemen it is a beautiful day. The sun is beaming, the clouds are white and fleecy.  Yet why is no one in this hall smiling? Probably because of all the work that is left to be done. 

I know that an hour ago I was also as glum as Gollum, but on my way here I had a conversation with a crow - and a young girl. I asked the crow what I could do to reduce my work. In reply he flew off and alighted on a branch a little further away from me. At that moment I had not understood what he meant. But after my brief ride on the girl’s bicycle, for the first time I have enjoyed coming to work!

Let me explain to all of you what I think that crow was saying to me, to all people who aren’t enjoying themselves. My advice to the company is: let the work be for  some time and come back to it later.

Look out of the window! You will be able to see the birds in the sky and the squirrels on the trees. The ants on the twigs and the ladybirds on the leaves. They are all enjoying themselves while they get their work done! Why should we be robots, doing work mechanically? Why should we do work we don’t enjoy?

Ladies and gentlemen, let us go out for a picnic.”

****************************************

 

 

A few blocks away, Cheli sat in her garden and looked up at the sky. Every now and then she looked down at the notebooks in front of her as she completed her homework.

And further down the lane, a man sat at his desk writing a letter to a newspaper. On his desk lay a petition with many signatures.

 

In the sky, a little blue kite rode on the wind and fluttered in the breeze.

 

********

‘It is 2120. There is no longer any such thing as poetry, or poets. What happened?’

(Essay shortlisted in the NHC (New College for Humanities, London) Creative Writing Competition  

 

‘Ha, a poet!

Know him by

The ecstasy - dilated eye,

 Not uncharged with tears that ran

Upward from his heart of man…’

Elizabeth Barret Browning [1]

Is this how you would know a poet? And how would you know poetry? Among its earliest examples, is the Indian epic, the Mahabharata — described as the longest poem ever written. Sometimes serious and grim; sometimes light hearted and joyful; yet always uplifting, it can move one to ecstasy and to tears. The oldest preserved parts of the Mahabharata’s written Sanskrit text are dated to be around 400 BCE, though the epic was sung and recited for many hundreds of years before it was inscribed. [2]

If poetry has been a popular and powerful medium for the exchange of thoughts, ideas and ideologies for so many centuries, why, if such a thing is possible, would it ever disappear?

To begin with, what is poetry? There may be varying views on this, according to how different people think of poetry. In the most basic sense of the word, it is understood simply as lines that rhyme. But all verse is not poetry. And nor is all poetry verse. Poetry is more than verse. As T.S. Eliot observed: “The distinction between verse and prose is clear, the distinction between poetry and prose is obscure”.[3] I believe, poetry is not confined to pen and paper. It is there in the wind, in spider-webs, in flowers.

So, is there poetry in the way in which you perceive things, or in the things themselves? The answer is: both. There is magic and life in poetry. It is able to move a person, and, in a manner of speaking, give life to the person. “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree”, wrote Joyce Kilmer.[4] But, in my opinion, a tree is a poem. Indeed, there is poetry in everything, if you can only find it! And of course, express it.

Then, perhaps it is when people lose the ability to ‘’see’’ poetry in their surroundings, that they will not be able to create poetry any longer. In Ray Bradbury’s novel Fahrenheit 451, set in a time when firemen burn books and start fires instead of putting them out, people do not write or read books. Fireman Beatty explains why. “Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so full of facts they feel stuffed but absolutely brilliant with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with .”[5]

The same logic may apply to poetry. If you cannot grasp it, it slips through your fingers — and your mind. One of the qualities of poetry is that you can never understand it completely.  Every reading may reveal new connotations, open new windows. Each person may get a different view and a special meaning — which may not be quite the same as what the poet had intended. Everyone sees the world with their own eyes, and poetry is a special world of the poet’s creation. And the world itself is like an onion. Therefore, the many layers of poetry are hard to comprehend, especially if people do not make the effort to spend time and read — or write — poems. In Fahrenheit 451, people do not have the patience to digest anything that cannot be shortened to a few minutes long, and consequently spend most of their time watching bite-sized shows on their screens, a phenomenon which we can witness today.[6]

One of my favourite comic strips is Calvin and Hobbes, written between the 1980s and 1990s by Bill Watterson. It combines witty dialogues, wry observations, excellent storylines as well as poetic, evocative drawings. In one such cartoon strip, the dialogue is as follows:

Calvin - “I think the short attention span of television is great. As far as I’m concerned if something is so complicated that you can’t explain it in 10 seconds, then it’s probably not worth it anyway. My time is valuable. I can’t go thinking about one subject for minutes on end. I’m a busy man”

Hobbes – “….who’s been sitting here for three hours.”’

Calvin – “…at 6 thoughts a minute.” [7]

Perhaps this unwillingness to concentrate, to focus, to think, would result in the inability to create poetry. After all, poetry is essentially about the expression of thought. Thoughts which arise as a deeply felt response to the universe.  In Fahrenheit 451, a little girl called Clarisse says, “I sometimes think drivers don’t know what grass is or flowers are, because they never see them slowly. If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! he’d say, that’s grass!”[8]

So, if we asked that driver to describe grass, he would not be able to go beyond the blur. And if everything he ever saw was done in such a hurry; if he never spent any time observing things, would he really be able to describe or express anything? In another of my favourite comic strips, Peanuts, by Charles Schulz, there is a similar case of little children oblivious of the real world around them. Sally, who is watching television, says to Charlie Brown, her brother: “You should watch this. They’re showing pictures of huge snowflakes falling gently on this beautiful snow-covered meadow. Charlie Brown replies,” You can see the same thing right now if you go outside.” And Sally exclaims, “OUTSIDE?!”[9]

Sally could have seen a real meadow and real snow in front of her house if she wanted to, but she had not even noticed that it was snowing outside! When Charlie Brown mentions the fact, she seems surprised as though she could not imagine, much less see, the real world. If people are no longer thoughtful and interested in their surroundings, they will be unable to imagine, discern and discover for themselves. How will they then create or forge anything — poems, stories, paintings?

Is this what we are heading for in the twenty second century? In another hundred years, will this be the reality? Will people be unable or unwilling to write poetry? Will we expect robots to do so? They may perhaps be trained to produce intelligible words or lines of verse, but would robots be able to connect with the world, feel it, experience it, give individual expression to it? It does not seem likely. Therefore, we can conclude that if we do not write poetry, no one will. I imagine such a world — a world without poetry — would be bleak.

A world where

The seasons come.

They come and go away.

The people heed them not,

Have not a word to say.

They do not see the dew on grass,

The rhythm of the rain.

Nor give a second glance

To the flowers by the lanes.

Never knowing what they may have missed,

They never feel the loss

Of changing hues,

Greens and blues,

Swirling pinks and reds.

The mauve and purple in the sky,

The silver stars above their heads.

Of sunshine

Through emerald leaves,

Warmth and light  

That entwine

The birds and bees.

Of leaves, red and gold

Gathered in the streets,

Whispering and waiting

 For eager feet

To come and

Ride upon the breeze.

Winter and its cold shroud

Undisturbed.

No footprints traced,

No laughter,

Not a word.

So, it may well be that in the twenty second century, if and when we lose the faculty to imagine, observe and concentrate, our world will be bereft of poetry.

But, would poetry die out all together? Or would there be some poets left in the world, come what may? In science, as in life, there are always exceptions to every single rule. It is very likely that even if the majority of the human population stops writing, thinking and reading poetry, we would be able to find some exceptions in the twenty second century. And even in the bleakest of times, there would be someone who would take comfort in poetry, who would be able to express the sorrow of such a world, through it.

At the end of the great war in the Mahabharata, there is complete destruction. Brothers, cousins, uncles, children, all perish. Very few people are left alive in a desolate landscape[10]. Yet the very fact that the entire history of the war is chronicled as poetry, lends us hope and shows that even at what might be the end of the world, poetry will live on.

 

Afterthought:

The complex events of the Mahabharata represent a universal story, that repeats itself in diverse guises in different ages and in different places in the world. It culminates in death and annihilation, yet it still ends in hope.  And so, let me end too in hope, with one such passage from a work of great imagination.

‘Though here at journey’s end I lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun

And Stars for ever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

Nor bid the Stars farewell.’[11]

J.R.R. Tolkien - The Return of the King

---

[1] ‘A Poet’; as quoted in the story ‘William among the Poets’ from the book, William in Trouble by Richmal Crompton, pg. no. 170, published 1991 by Macmillan Children’s Books, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited; first published in 1927.

[2] ‘Mahabharata: Text and Performances’, Sahapedia https://www.sahapedia.org/mahabharata-texts-and-performance-0 accessed on 29th January 2021.

[3] Eliot, T.S. Poetry & Prose: The Chapbook, Poetry Bookshop, London, 1921 as cited in Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prose accessed on 30th January 2021

[4] From the poem ‘Trees’, first published in Poetry: A Magazine Of Verse’, August 1913

[5] ‘Part One: The Hearth And The Salamander’, Location 903 of 2406 of the Kindle edition of Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, first published by Ballantine books on 19^th October 1953

[6] In one particular strip of the popular comic Garfield by Jim Davis, there is a conversation between Jon and his cat, Garfield, which illustrates this point. Jon starts by saying that he will read a book a day. Then, noticing the length of the book, he says he will read a book a week. And finally, he says that he will watch a movie based on the book, to which Garfield replies, “Or just watch the trailer”.

[7]Bill Watterson, The Indispensable Calvin and Hobbes, The Treasury Collection, pg. no. 25, (January 6^th, 1989); first published in 1992; reprinted 1994, Warner Books

https://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1989/01/06 accessed on 30th January 2021

[8] ‘Part One: The Hearth And The Salamander’, Location 92 of 2406 of the Kindle edition of Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, first published by Ballantine Books on 19^th October 1953

[9] Peanuts by Charles Schulz, December 7^th, 1994  https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1994/12/07 accessed on 30th January 2021            

[10] https://www.prekshaa.in/timeline-and-composer-mahabharata , https://www.sahapedia.org/mahabharata-texts-and-performance-0 accessed on 29th January 2021.

[11] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Part Three: The Return Of The King, pg. 220, published by Grafton in 1991

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The Problem with School /The Answer to Good Education

Treya Mukherjee Class XI

 

“I don’t let schooling interfere with my education”, the famous American writer Mark Twain wrote more than a hundred years ago. More recently, Bill Watterson’s cartoon character, the precocious six-year old Calvin, says much the same thing: “I go to school but I don’t learn what I want to.”

The situation in India is no different, and I have also come forward with a similar grievance, which I am sure other children in our country share. We go to school, give exams, get out of school – but we seldom learn what we want to. Or enjoy learning. Is this because of the teachers? Or the subjects? Or the way in which the subjects are taught?

I find that there are four main problems in our current school systems.

Firstly, there is too much emphasis on exams. The main objective of going to school today is to pass exams with flying colours. We do not learn for fun or out of enjoyment, because we are obliged to learn every little detail printed in our course books, so that we can reproduce it in the examinations. This is linked to the second problem: children are made to learn set answers to set questions, word for word. We are not encouraged to question, or to write what we think should be the answer, but are expected to copy answers that are already written in our text books.

Thirdly, we do not spend enough time outdoors – even before the coronavirus situation. I am not just talking of PT or games periods, but also of subjects like Biology, English, Geography and Physics. These would be much more enjoyable taught out-of-doors, where things could be put in perspective. What better place to understand how plants grow than in a garden? And fourthly, the so-called co-curricular activities are just there for the sake of being there. They are not considered to be serious subjects, and are consequently not taken seriously.

We should, instead, be aiming for holistic and wholesome education, where education is seen as a whole not just as separate subjects. Where physics is explained through dance and games; maths is found in art; history is discovered in geography. We must think out-of-the-classroom. I am about to leave school now, but I hope that in my last two years some of these ideas are implemented – so that we emerge from school as happy and responsible adults.

I recently came across a book on Gandhiji’s Nai Talim, and was surprised that about eighty three years ago, he had advocated such ideas. Where students learnt by doing things for themselves, by seeing how handicrafts and science are related, and best of all, got to look after their own gardens and grow their own flowers!

Today, we are celebrating 150 years of Gandhiji’s birth. What better way to do that than to take forward his ideas? If we do so, we may find the answers to many of the problems with our schools.

The Function of Infinity

 

Take a look at these functions

f(x)= 1/x ; x≠0

f(x)= cosec(x) ; x≠0

f(x)= sec(x) ; x≠ π/2

Do you see anything common to all of them?

 

 

It may not seem obvious at first. Indeed, I didn’t make the connection until several months after having studied these functions, for the simple reason that no one really tells you!

 

So we have this bunch of functions and we’re specifically being told not to do something.

Like most contrary people, let’s disobey the command given!

If we do put x= 0 in the first function we get 1/0

 

For the second function to make things a bit simpler, let’s convert the cosec function to sin.

Then we get 1/ sin(x) and plugging in x=0 we get 1/0

 

The third may be a little trickier. Let’s convert sec(x) to cos(x)

   f( π/2)=  1/cos(π/2) - and again 1/0

 

Now we see the problem. All these require dividing by 0, which is not possible.

But why is it not possible?

 

When I first came across this statement, I couldn’t understand why it was not possible. Because no one explained it to me. When we got questions like 1/0 and 0/1 to solve, I would always get confused  as to which of them was equal to 0, and which was N.D. (not defined).

My logic was: “Okay, so if you have no apples and 2 hungry people, dividing nothing among them gives nothing, so the answer is 0. But if there’s an apple just hanging in space, but no people to divide it among, what would happen then?” A popular answer is that you’re still left with 0.

But there’s a problem. Dividing 1 apple among 2 people gives each person 1/2. If you’re not dividing it among anyone, one piece still remains - the apple itself!

A way of visualising this problem is to try and find the multiplicative inverse.

1/0=y

y × 0= 1

But anything multiplied by 0 = 0, right?

Therefore, if we’re instead getting y x 0 is equal to 1, we are saying 0 = 1!

Obviously, zero being equal to one is clearly irreconcilable. It’s a clear indication that what we’re trying to do is wrong. So far, so good.

 

 

What if we use another method? The method of limits. That is:

1/0.1=10

1/0.01=100….

….1/0.0000001= 10000000

The logical assumption as a continuation of this series, is that 1/0 would be infinity since as you get closer and closer to 0, the answer gets closer and closer to infinity. This method of approaching something but never reaching it, is used extensively to defy the ‘normal arithmetic’ rules and perform an operation we’re not mathematically supposed to. We use limits, which basically works like a speed limit. As long as we stay under that number we’re fine, but the moment we hit the number we are fined!

But, unfortunately even this method doesn’t work for solving one by zero!

Wait a moment - in the method just described above, we had approached 1/0 from the right hand side. What if we approach from the left-hand side, or the negative side?

1/-0.1= -10

1/-0.01= -100

….

1/-0.00001= -100000

1/0 = - ∞

BUT in the previous situation, we just saw that 1/0 is +∞!

Graphically, this can be represented as below.

                                                                                     

Source: Wikipedia   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Division_by_zero

 

Obviously, the limit doesn’t exist.

Now, we can understand what and where the problem is – we simply can’t get a solution to dividing one by zero by either the multiplicative inverse or the limits method. This is certainly several steps ahead of just accepting the statement that the solution to 1/0 is not defined.

Is there any other method to solve this? There are a few more such as Reimann’s Hypothesis, but they are still inconclusive, or not proved. So, at the moment, we do not have any known method of defining one by zero.

It is a bit like the homework you get. You solve one problem and think you’re done, but as soon as you do that, your teacher gives you a new one.

I’ve understood that one by zero is undefined – so far. But I’m still thinking about this. I may have to do this for a long time, like many others before me -  perhaps almost till infinity…

 

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Pebbles on the Beach 

A Tale of Two Times

February 2018

Exams – tedious, boring, soporific – were dragging on. One drowsy afternoon, studying history, I suddenly noticed that everything had come to a standstill.

Not a sound to be heard. Nothing, in fact, but the sound of silence.

Or wait…could I hear something? A faint murmur – the rustling of leaves? No, voices. I started forward to investigate. It wasn’t coming from anywhere in the house. So, I stepped out. Intent on finding the source of those voices, I hardly noticed the change in my surroundings. Then, I saw a light twinkling in the distance.

Some fool must have left a switch on. A total waste of electricity. What the world was coming to…but, how was the light so bright?

After all, it was early afternoon, wasn’t it?

Another look around told me it was more like dusk. And where were all the buildings? Perhaps I had been blown away by a cyclone like Dorothy in the ‘Wizard of Oz’! It was getting curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would have said. Well, I might as well find out what was happening. I could hardly study in such dim light, I told my conscience.

As I drew closer, I saw a lamp burning in a courtyard.

I entered and stopped short. Ganesh was sitting in front of me! 

Who, you might ask, is Ganesh?

He’s not a friend of mine, though I would love to have him as one. No, this was the Lord Ganesh, sitting with a sage. Well! Not only had I travelled in space but in time as well. I listened carefully as the sage began speaking. It was not until I caught the word ‘Dhritarshtra’ that I understood what was going on. I had somehow landed up at the time when the Mahabharata was being dictated!

The sage of course was Vedvyasa. So excited was I that I nearly fell over. The leaves of a bush rustled, and for one terrible moment I thought that would make Vedvyas stop in his dictation, and the Mahabharata would be left unfinished!

Luckily it was Ganesh who stopped at the sound. I had no alternative but to step forward and introduce myself in faltering Sanskrit. Both of them looked bewildered. As luck would have it, I was wearing a shirt and shorts, which obviously puzzled them even more. I explained that I had come from Kalyuga. Their faces cleared up and they smiled pityingly. Then Vedvyasa said: “Ah the power of meditation is truly great.” I was about to protest that I had not been meditating, when I thought that perhaps the dwelling of my mind on silence constituted meditation.

A thought occurred to me. Feeling rather like a journalist, I took out my notebook and asked, “Did the Mahabharata really take place or is it just a figment of your imagination?” Vedvyasa looked at me sternly and I quaked inwardly. Then he smiled, “I can introduce you to someone who can clear all your doubts, if you care to meet him?”

I eagerly agreed. He went into a hut. And the next thing I knew, Krishna was standing in front of me!

I touched his feet and he blessed me.

Then Vedvyasa told him of my doubts. Krishna smiled and waved his hand, and I suddenly saw all sorts of scenes flash in front of me. A king, then five boys, and what seemed like a hundred others. Was I really going through a time-warp or was I watching a movie? The last scene was so horrific I had to close my eyes. Feeling dizzy, I looked at Krishna. He said sadly “The way things are going in Kalyug, its end will be like the Mahabharata or even worse.” Vedvyasa crinkling his nose, said, “It must be a dreadful place. Wouldn’t you rather stay here?’

I looked around. If I hadn’t been born and brought up in modern times, I would have willingly stayed back. But I would be totally out of place here. And I had to help clear the mess and perhaps prevent another Mahabharata. I slowly shook my head and asked to go back if it was possible. Krishna said, “Close your eyes.” I nodded, but before I did so, I asked Ganesh if I could have one of the leaves he was using. He took one up, made a small mark at its end and gave it to me. I opened my eyes and found myself in front of my history book. Slowly, the light brightened. It was afternoon again, and I was sitting at my desk – on which reposed a leaf.

One more thing - I passed the exam with flying colours which, I believe, must have been due to the blessings I got. But I leave you to decide what really happened…

   

Shakespeare in Spring

April 2017

Treya: Don't you think Shakespeare's over-rated?

Me: Well, you've only read him in an abridged form, so you can't really judge. His language is quite stirring...

Treya: Humph! Stirring language! He lisps!

Me: Lisps??!

Treya: Imagine writing 'hath'! 

The Three Little Pigs....

is now 

The Friendly Wolf

The Perils of Philosophy in Science

August 2015

Treya (sprawled on the carpet, studying for a Science Test): Mama, ask me some questions from the second chapter - I've read the chapter and the classwork in the notebook.

Anisha: OK. What is the difference between matter and non-matter? Give examples of both.

Treya: All matter has mass, all matter occupies space.

Anisha: Right. And non-matter?

Treya: Does not have mass and does not occupy space. 

Anisha: Examples?

Treya: Book, table - matter. Thoughts and feelings, non-matter. 

           But Mama - thoughts also occupy space!

Anisha (stumped, for the moment): Yes, well that's right in a way. I suppose they occupy space in our mind, and we can't see them, so we say they don't.

Treya: And feelings also occupy space!

Anisha: Yes, lots of space. Err, shall we go on to the next question?

Houses and cities - matchbox, pastrybox, et all!

The Adventures of 

a Cat

Continuing Conversations with Treya: February 2014

On Way to the Park

(As we walk past a lady, a gentleman and a black dog outside a gate)

Treya, swiveling around (as she thinks) tactfully, "what sort of dog is that"?

Me: (more tactfully, avoiding turning back to stare at the trio)" I don’t know; I didn't really notice."

T: "Do you like poodles?"

A: "Umm, not much."

T: "Why"?

A: "I think, because they are often clipped and manicured out of their natural shape".

T: "What dogs do you like?"

A: "Terriers, I think. And Labradors. And beagles"

T: "I like puppies."

Dinner Time:

Snehanshu: "Treya, do you have any children in your school who are like Charlie Brown?"

Treya: "You mean, round faced?"

Anisha: "He is round headed."

S: "No, I meant, in character."

T:??

A: "You know, disposition, behaviour…"

T: "Oh, you mean nave."

A: "Its pronounced naa-eve."

T: "Hmm. What does it mean, anyway?"

A: "Someone who is gullible."

T: ?

A: "Who easily believes what others say."

T: "Yes, and travels."

S: ???

A: "No, That’s Gulliver! That's a name. Gullible is not a name, its a quality of one's nature.
Hang on though...Gullible’s Travels...that's a thought."

A Garden Mystery

The Garden Mystery - in Verse, for the better!
By Treya, at 9 years

At 3 years, on the steps of 83 Araghar, Dehra Dun. Wondering?

I wonder

(at 8 years)

I wonder why

I want to fly.

Up I will go

And see you so low.

Can you row?

Do you like to play?

Or watch T.V. all day?

I wonder why

We can't see God?

I wonder if

I can jump over the rod.

I wonder why

I say goodbye!

Mrs. Storyteller (Treya, at 6 years and a bit)

"Hello! I am Mrs. Storyteller.  I tell lots of stories. Would you like to hear one? Ok, here it is."

This is a lonely jungle. It has many animals.
Onece a little bear came. It was 5 years old.

It loved to play.

One day a cunning wolf came. He wanted to eat the bear.

The mother bear looked for the bear. But she did not find him.

The next day a mammal saw him wondering in the forest and she took him back.

His mother was waiting for him. She said "there is some mud on your nose".

That is the end of this story.

Bye!

Sorting out the weather

August 2012

Me: Treya, come and look at the sky! Lovely clouds

Treya: (hurrying out): Oh yes! Nice clouds. These are Cumolobus.

Me: Cumolobus?

Treya: Yes, it means there will be a shower. What a pity there are’nt any Altocumbus!

Me: Altocumbus?

Treya: Yes, that means there will be a storm. Hmmm. No Siros either.

Me: Siros?

Treya: No? I meant Circus then. That means fair weather. Well, let’s go inside.

Which Witches

Poem by Treya and Anisha composed on 17.09.2011 
while walking in the evening

Which witches did you see?

Can you tell me?

I saw some in the dark.

I saw some in the park.

They were rather big.

One was wearing a wig.

They were eating some figs

And dancing some jigs.

Then they stood around in a ring

And started to sing.

It wasn't very nice.

So I sprinkled some spice.

They ran away like mice

And turned into ice.

Even if I am not there

And if only you dare

You can do the same

And make witches tame.

So next time you do

Be sure to take some spice with you.

And do tell me

Which witches did you see?

Treya-isms

Lunchtime Conversations in Summer

Treya: “This is your favourite mango isn’t it? What’s it called?”

I: “Safeda”.

Treya: “Hmm. I have no favourites. 

I mean I like all mangoes.”

I:  “Is that so. Wait till I serve you Tota-pari.”

Treya: “What’s that? Not nice?”

I: “Try it, after all you said you like all mangoes.”

Treya: Quickly shovelling pieces of Safeda in her mouth: “You’ll have to help to finish it if I don’t like it. Funny names mangoes have, no? Safeda, Dusshera, what else?

I: ”Dussheri, not Dusshera. Dusshera is a festival.”

Treya: “Ha, Ha. Oh yes.”

I: "There’s another one called Langda."

Treya:  ‘That’s the dance."

I: “Dance? What dance?”

Treya: "No? Oh sorry, that’s Bhangra."

More Lunchtime Conversations in Summer

I:  “Would you like some of these boiled peas?”

Treya: “Yes, a little.”

I: “A little more than the half spoon you’ve taken”?

Treya: “Hmm. After a while. They’re too hot”.

I: “They’re not. They’re room temperature“.

Treya: “That’s too hot.”

Continued Lunchtime Conversations in Summer

Treya: Nibbling on one slice of cucumber. "OK, now imagine this is a pizza and 3 adults and one baby have to share it. How many pieces will I have to cut it into?"

I: "How old is the baby?"

T: "6 months."

I: "

Three pieces." 

T: "Wrong! Three and a half – three for the adults, half for the baby."

I: "The baby can’t eat a cucumber."

T: "Why not? Milk teeth come out at 6 months."

I: "Yes, but only the incisors, you can’t chew with incisors."

T: "Oh, all right. There are four adults and two babies, so how many pieces will there have to be?"

I: "Four."

T: "Wrong! Four and two halves!"

I: "We just decided that babies can’t chew."

T: "They are 3 years and 6 years old."

I: "Then they are not babies!"

T: "They are younger than me so I call them babies."