Favourite Stories for Children in India

The Brihatkatha and its Versions

The Story as Entertainment

The Panchatantra and Hitopdesa were meant to be instructive. However, the Brihatkatha of Gunaddhya and its various versions which include the Brihatkathamanjari of Kshemendra, and Kathasaritsagar of Somdeva amongst others and the Dasakumarcharita of Dandin were stories written more for entertainment and amusement. Many of them cannot really be considered suitable for children though some have been adapted for them while others have been retold more or less as they are.

The oldest, the Brihatkatha of Gunaddhya is considered the source work for the writings of Kshemendra and Somdeva. It was written in Paisachi which has been identified as a kind of Prakrit and is perhaps the only work in that language which had an influence on Sanskrit literature second only to the great epics. No original version survives, though several Sanskrit and Prakrit versions are said to have been made, not all of which are still in existence. It is the only work in Prakrit of which so many Sanskrit versions were made. The oldest Sanskrit version is said to have been made by Raja Purvardha in the 6^th century A.D. but it is no longer in existence. Gunaddhya is said to have lived in the time of the Satavahana ruler of the Deccan in the first century A.D. (Some say 4^th or 5^th) who ruled over Pratishthanapur on the banks of the Godavari. The Satavahanas were a dynasty which was trying to Aryanise and the scholar J.A.van Buitenen believes Paisachi was a dialect of the North-West.

Vasudevhindi, a Prakrit version is considered the oldest amongst the available versions of the Brihatakatha. It was begun by a Jain monk Sanghdasgani and completed two centuries later by Dharmdasgani another Jain monk and is said to date not later than 604 A.D. They changed the original story by making Krishna’s father Vasudeva the main protagonist and narrator. Among the available Sanskrit versions, Buddhaswami’s Brihatkthashlokasangraha is considered the oldest. It was written during the reign of the Gupta dynasty. J.A.B. van Buitenen considers it ‘lively, observant, irreverent and colloquial’, in comparison with the better known Kathasaritasagar by Somdeva which he finds pedestrian at times.

According to legend these stories were told by Shiva to entertain his consort Parvati who begged him to tell her a story which no one had ever heard. He said that he would tell her stories about vidyadhars or aerial spirits since gods were invincible and humans lived in misery. Gunnaddhya (rich in virtue) was actually Malyavana, one of the members of the god’s retinue. His friend Pushpadant had made himself invisible and bypassed Shiva’s guard Nandi to enter the god’s cave and heard the stories secretly. He told the stories to his wife and in turn she passed them on. This led to his being discovered and cursed by a furious Parvati to become a mortal. When Malyavana pleaded his friend’s case he received a similar curse. But his wife was able to soften the goddess’stance. She finally said that if Pushpadant told these stories to a pishach Kanabhuti and Kanabhuti narrated them to Malyavana who in turn told them to human beings they would be able to free themselves from the curse. This little tale again illustrates the value attached to stories in ancient times.

It is said that Gunnadhya wrote these stories in secret in the forest because he was afraid the vidyadhars would steal them. Since he had no ink he wrote the 700,000 couplets in his own blood on bark. The manuscript consisting of seven books was presented to the Satavahana ruler who rejected it with disgust because it was written in blood. Gunaddhya burned six of the seven volumes after reading them to the birds and beasts of the forest but one was salvaged, that of Narvahandatta, the skeleton story which consisted of 16 parts and the kathapith added. Gunaddhya appears to have been a man who had traveled widely and in his stories the lives of gods and humans, fantastical beings like the vidyadhars who are semi divine—something between gandharvas and siddhas intertwine. Curses and boons and accounts of previous lives are used as plot devices. Scholars have commented on the fact that these are basically stories about merchants not kings and gods. The four major cities of Ujjaini, Tamralipti, Madura and Takshshila, which were major centres of trade and commerce play an important role.

The best known versions of Gunaddhya’s work are those of Kshmendra and Somadeva. Kshemendra compiled his Brihadkathamanjari some thirty years before Somadeva but the Kathasaritasagar is one third larger larger and is the better known work. It is the largest collection of tales, containing twice the number included in the Iliad and the Odyssey. However, Kshemendra’s work is considered more poetic by some.

Somadeva was a Kashmiri brahmin who composed this work some time between 1063 to 1081 A.D. to entertain Queen Suryamati, the wife of his ruler Anantdev.

Many people consider this vast work the foremost example of the Indian storytelling tradition. It combines history and myth, reality and fantasy with amazing effect and contains an extraordinary variety of characters and situations. Not only does it contain stories about actual historical figures like the grammarians, Vyadi, Vararuchi, Indradutt and Panini but also weaves in those about legendary supernatural beings like the gandharvas, kinnars and vidyadhars. There are extraordinary female characters as well. This work also provides amazing insights into human psychology and a vivid glimpse of the social structure, lifestyle, even the geography of the subcontinent. Neighbouring countries like Srilanka, Malaysia and Indonesia also figure in the narrative.

Many individual collections of stories are woven into the Kathasaritasagar. Among these the ones that have been most popular amongst children are the King Vikram stories. While the whole of the Kathasaritasagar consists of stories within stories bound together by the Shiva-Parvati story, both these collections use the device of the narration of the adventures of the king to link them together. They are the Vetalpanchvishanti or Vetalpachisi (Twenty-five Stories of the Vampire) and Singhasandwatrinshika or Singhasan Battisi (Thirty-two Stories of the Lion Throne). The legendary king Vikramaditya was an actual historical figure, the founder of the Vikrami era which is 56 years in advance of the Christian era. He vanquished the Huns and was the ruler of the Malwa region in central India and had his capital in Ujjaini. Some scholars, however, feel Vikramaditya could be a title of the great Chandragupta Maurya.

The Vetal stories are told to King Vikramaditya by Vetal, a ghost or vampire. The framing story says that a mendicant comes to the king’s court and asks him to help him in an important ritual. It entails bringing a corpse which hangs from a tree to the burning ground where the ritual was to be performed. When the king removes the corpse he finds that a Vetal resides in it. While he is transporting it, the Vampire tells him a story at the end of which he poses a question seeking a moral judgement or a definition of a social relationship, based on the action of the story which the king has to answer correctly or die. Each time the king gives his answer, the corpse immediately flies back to the tree and the king sets off to fetch it again, so the cycle is repeated. After twenty-four stories have been told the king is unable to answer the twenty-fifth question. The Vetal then exposes the mendicant as one who is seeking to destroy the king and after helping him to worst the man tells him to ask for a boon. The king asks that these twenty-five stories always be famous on the earth.

These stories are the most famous of our ‘riddle tales’ and like other popular literature travelled well beyond our borders. Van Buitenen states that some of them have influenced European literature and mentions the great German writer Thomas Mann’s novella Die Vertauschten Kopfe which is said to be inspired by the story “The Transposed Heads”. Similarly, he says the story of “The Three Fastidious Brahmins” traveled through Central Asia and Siberia and Jutland and became the basis for Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tale The Princess and the Pea. [ii]

The Singhasan stories are told by thirty-two statuettes to another king, Raja Bhoja who has discovered the throne of King Vikramaditya and is trying to ascend it. As the framing story narrates, the king is astonished to hear that an ignorant cowherd is transformed into an ideal judge, better than him, when he sits upon a mound on the outskirts of his capital Ujjain and resolves disputes. Upon investigating the rumours he finds that they are true and has the mound excavated. He finds a magnificent throne buried below and prepares to ascend it with great ceremony. But each time he attempts to, he is stopped by one of the statuettes which line its base, which says only one who is worthy of it can sit on the throne and then tells him a story about the king who once occupied it--Vikramaditya. These thirty-two stories do not follow a specific pattern like the Vetal riddle tales. They do have a certain focus-- to project an exemplary ruler—Vikramaditya, who has taken a vow guaranteeing the happiness of his subjects and is prepared to go to great lengths to fulfill it. In the course of discharging his duties he has many exciting adventures. The Singhasan stories expound the virtues of valour, ethical action and the duty of the king towards his subjects while providing entertainment through fantasy and suspense. In the Singhasan Battisi the Vetal is shown to be a powerful vampire in the control of the king who helps him to fulfill his vow.

The Shukasaptika or Kissa Tota-Mynah is another set of stories found in this work. These are stories of two birds, a parrot and a mynah who are lovers or consorts. However, since they focus on sexual escapades, their content does not make them very suitable for children though some have been retold as such.

The stories of the Kathsaritasagar show the world as a many splendoured place and on the whole, do not display any specific moral purpose. The magic and mystery of story telling works here and stories are told to divert, amuse and astonish. But while full of fantasy, they remain rooted in the ordinary life of men and for this reason they provide a vivid glimpse into the life and social structure, manners and morals of the times. As is common with much of traditional literature, stories from other narrative works like the Panchatantra, the Puranas and the Jataka tales have been woven into the narrative. Though attributed to Somadeva, the original text appears to be the work of several authors. These stories apparently traveled far too because apart from the two instances mentioned above Ramanujan mentions that some have been found in The Arabian Nights, in Boccacio and Shakespeare, he cites the stories of All’s Well that Ends Well and Cymbeline. In recent times the Kathasaritasagar has been the inspiration behind Salman Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories.

The Kathasaritasagar has been translated into many other languages. H.H. Wilson published a summary of the first five chapters in English in1824. Brockhaus edited it in 1839 and published a compilation from six manuscripts in 1862. Another version was published by the Asiatic Society of Bengal between 1880 and 1884, translated by Charles Tawney in English and based on the Brockhaus edition. In 1889 the Mumbai based Nirnayasagar Press brought out a Sanskrit version by Durgadas which was compiled from the Brockhaus and other versions. Since then many versions have appeared in Hindi and other Indian languages.

J.A.B. Van Buitenen Tales of Ancient India (Chicago & London: Phoenix Books, The University of Chicago Press, 1959) p.2

Ibid., XIII, p. 9.

II Intro. p.xxiii

Children's Literature in India-The Hitopdesa

The Story as Good Counsel

The Hitopdesa


The Hitopdesa is another work of niti like the Panchatantra, written in Sanskrit by Narayana. The author was a poet or preceptor in the court of Dhawal Chandra, a prince or satrap of eastern India who is said to have commissioned it. It is believed to be a thousand years old, written between the ninth and fourteenth century AD. The earliest known manuscript discovered in Nepal bears a date corresponding to 1373 A.D. It has a structure similar to the Panchatantra and contains four books, which have stories from the Panchatantra with others added to them. Before the discovery of that manuscript this work was attributed to Vishnusharma who is the narrator of the work. But when it was being studied the names of Narayana and his patron were discovered in the last two verses. Some of the matter and quotations used establish it as having been composed in the eastern part of the country.
While Narayana mentions the Panchatantra as his source he has drawn from other works as well. The order of the first book of the Panchatantra has been reversed and the third divided into two. The fourth book has mostly been omitted and a large number of verses exist within the stories. These have been sourced mostly from the verse composition Nitisara of Kamandaki. Some have been taken from the play Venisamhara by Bhattanarayana which, like the other work, dates to the eighth century. Niti verses from other important works have been included like the Vrdhha or Laghu Chanakya, the Chanakya Sara Sangraha and the Chankaya Raja Niti Shastra, the Garuda Purana and the Nitisataka of Bharatrihari. It has used the two epics as sources apart from the Puranas, the poetic, dramatic work of Magha Sisupalavadha, the Kiratarjun of Bhandavi and Mrichhakatika of Sudraka. Some stories overlap with the Sukasaptati and the Vetal Panchvimsaptika. However, Narayana has added his own lively touch to his source material and heightened its impact by the manner in which he rearranged it.
It is worth noting that the Hitopdesa was the second Sanskrit work to be translated directly into English after the Bhagavat Gita. Charles Wilkins of the East India Company translated it in 1787. It was first published in Serampore in 1804. Many other translations were made including one by Sir Edwin Arnold in 1861 that appeared under the title The Book of Good Counsels. In India it has been translated into Bangla, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Malayalam, Marathi, Newari, Oriya, Tamil, Telugu and Urdu, according to Indologist Johannes Hertel. Contemporary translations listed by the US Library of Congress include Burmese, Dutch, English, French, German, Greek, Khmer, Russian, Spanish and Thai.

Children's Literature in India-The Panchatantra

The best ideas always come while having my bath. So many middles and poems were written 'underwater'. This morning the thought process went: friends on Facebook-libraries-librarians-children's literature in India-my great research project courtesy a fellowship from the Ministry of Culture currently languishing on a shelf...

A query from an interested librarian sparked off the thought--why not put it up on my blog? So here goes:

The Panchatantra and its Versions

The Story as Good Counsel

The Panchatantra, a collection of stories said to be more than two thousand years old is considered the oldest example of a work written specifically for children or rather, young adults, in India. Its influence on children’s literature throughout the world cannot be overestimated, since the stories have traveled far and wide and entered the folklore of many countries. There are said to be 200 versions of these stories in about 60 languages. In fact it is acknowledged that it has been disseminated even more widely than the Bible.

The Panchatantra or ‘five books’ is a work of niti, translated by Arthur Ryder as the ‘wise conduct of life’.[i] Attributed to Vishnusharma, a learned brahmin, it is said to have been written to teach three dull princes the art of living wisely and well. It is a collection of eighty odd animal and human fables interspersed with verse. Numerous versions of these stories exist in India itself. Their universality can be gauged from the fact that they soon traveled through the world and were readily adopted into the lore of other countries.

While it is hard to say exactly when this great work was written, it is generally accepted that it belongs to the third century B.C. It was translated into Pahlavi by the physician Burzueh in the sixth century A.D. who, it is said, had heard of a great treasure that existed in India and came to search for it under the patronage of the Persian ruler Chosrau Anosharwan. In 570 AD it was translated into Syriac, and into Arabic (under the name Kalilah wa Dimnah) around 750 AD Hebrew, Greek, Latin and all the European languages. It is said that with the exception of the Bible no other work has been so widely translated and circulated. It has been the source for and influenced many other classics like Aesop’s Fables, The Arabian Nights, the Fables of La Fontaine, the Decameron of Boccaccio and the Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. These stories were also known in Japan, Korea, Burma and Africa and have passed into the folklore of many countries albeit in slightly altered forms.

According to the great Indologist Johannes Hertel the true version of the original Panchatantra is the Tantrakhyayika discovered in Kashmir and said to have been written between 275 B.C. and 275 AD (there are conflicting opinions about the dates). A salutation to Chankaya or Kautilya the famous minister of Chandragupta Maurya by the writer Vishnusharma is taken as proof that the stories were composed after 275 AD when Chankaya died. There is also a request by the king to teach his sons the Arthshastra of Kautilya. It is also said, though, that some of the stories had been in existence before this date.

In the course of time many recensions of the Panchatantra came into being, the best known being the Hitopdesa of Narayana. In these recensions, stories were added, removed or rearranged. It was also used as a text to teach Sanskrit to beginners. An extract was included in the Kashmiri Brihatkatha which has been lost now but some stories have been reproduced in the Brihatkathamanjari and the Kathasaritasagar. The text which is most widely used is the one attributed to the Jain monk Purnabhadra, written about 1199 AD under the patronage of King Soma. He added many new stories including the one about Gangadatta and Prithudatta who are supposed to be the famous Rajput ruler Prithiviraja and his treacherous father-in-law Jayachandra.

The story of the writing of the Panchatantra is that the king of Mahilaropya (Mylapore in South India or Pataliputra in Bihar, according to another version) had three sons who lacked both knowledge and virtue. Distressed, the king summoned five hundred learned brahmins and asked them to suggest a way to educate them in politics and worldly wisdom. One of them said, “Let them study grammar for twelve years, then the Dharmshashtra of Manu for twelve years, the Arthashastra of Chanakya and the Kamashastra of Vatsyayana and other great works of knowledge. Then only will they be complete in knowledge and wisdom. However, a wise pundit Sumati said, “Life is short and fleeting. These studies will take a long time. Let the cream of these works be churned and taught to the princes as the swan separated milk from water and drinks milk alone. There is a learned brahmin Vishnusharma who has mastered the art of conveying the essence of knowledge to his students. If you put your sons in his charge, your majesty, he will surely teach them the arts and sciences in the shortest time.” The king summoned Vishnusharma and offered him a hundred villages as payment for teaching the princes. But the teacher replied, “My knowledge is not for sale. But I guarantee to make the princes proficient in politics and worldly wisdom in six months and swear to abandon my profession if I do not.”

Vishnusharma took the princes to his home and began to impart wisdom to them in the form of stories. These stories were divided into five tantras (literally threads of a weaver) or five books. In five months the dull, ignorant princes were transformed and became masters of the art of successful and intelligent living.

This story demonstrates the power of the story as a learning tool and the importance attached to it in ancient times.

The five books of the Panchatantra are ‘Mitrabheda’ or the loss of friends, ‘Mitrasamprapti ’ or the winning of friends, ‘Kakolukeeyam’ or the war between the crows and the owls, ‘Lubdhpranasam’ or the loss of gains and ‘Aparikshitakarakam’ or the fruit of ill-considered action. The device of a story within a story, widely used in several other ancient works has been employed in the Panchatantra. In the first book the two jackals Kartaka and Damanaka, jealous of the friendship of the lion Pingalaka with the bull Sanjeevika create a rift between them which results in the death of the bull. They narrate stories to each other to further their plot and later justify their action. The other four books use a similar method though the first three are much longer and the last two appear to have more additions by other writers. The stories are interspersed with verses which are mostly quotations from sacred or authoritative texts. Most of the characters are animals and have certain stock characteristics, like the lion is portrayed as being strong but deficient in wisdom, the jackals crafty and cats as hypocrites.

The Panchatantra is a literary masterpiece for many reasons. It displays a profound knowledge of human nature and worldly wisdom along with humour and subtle caricature. It also has a pragmatic theory of politics and depicts the weaknesses and strengths of people in power like kings and priests and gives us deep insight into the life of the times. Among its most popular stories which have been been retold for children are ‘The Lion and the Rabbit’, ‘The Singing Donkey,’ ‘The Blue Jackal,’ ‘The Monkey and the Crocodile.’ These stories like many others not mentioned here have a special appeal for children because they demonstrate the strength of wit over brute strength. Powerful animals like lions and crocodiles are easily outwitted by physically weaker rabbits and monkeys. At the same time one can see why they were told to future rulers because they delineate the desirable qualities of a leader and the essential nature of power and the danger of being led astray by sycophants etc. Some, of course, are brutally realistic, and are not usually included in collections meant for children.

---

[i] Arthur W. Ryder The Panchatantra, Mumbai : Jaico Publishing House, 1949) Intro. p. 4

Friends Forever...

What can one say for a day which begins with a cab driver calling to tell you that you wanted to go to Gurgaon? Was it a bad dream? A hangover? Something I'd eaten?

There are nights when the worst insomniac has to resist a sleeping pill, but after dozing off in the wee hours the phone will surely ring half an hour later to remind you that the one above has parceled out your sleep quota like everything else in your life. Joy and sorrow, stumbles and hands reaching out...

The groggy day offered more surrealistic but thankfully happily realistic encounters as well. By the evening, I had to proclaim: 'Friends Forever!' The spell check tells me Freudians. Perhaps a Freudian slip--the wheel coming Full Turtle. For those unaware of this term (I just coined it) it means turning turtle but coming back Full Circle--in other words landing on your feet after an ungainly somersault.

Yes, buddies, Friends Forever was the title of the book (published by Hachette India) we did at the last session of the Habitat Children's Book Forum on December 5th. And we did come Full Turtle as one always will when celebrating friendship.

First Vatsala, the editor of the anthology, helped the kids to find friends through similar coloured badges and identify matching interests to make groups. Composing Tee-Hee telegrams washed away whatever slivers of ice that may have remained floating around. How's this for an example--Tanya (the friend's name)--The alligator (k)new yoga aerobics?!! Then a reading, by yours truly--the story: "A Caterpillar called Matthew", my contribution to the anthology. Some nostalgia here--there was a girl in my school who had a caterpillar named Matthew. She also loved toothpaste sandwiches but that's another story. Then a discussion on the parameters of friendship--one of the points discussed: how far does one go for a friend, who for example, is stealing. Most of the kids talked about advising and reforming or reporting the friend to teach her/him a lesson. Couldn't help thinking of my naive and silly youth--risking expulsion in a rather ridiculous cause. Today I can laugh it off as fate, the Great Anarch's hand and contrast my dumbness with today's savvy youngsters.

Bio-poems about friends ended the session.

Yup, it was a major celebration of friendship and I do hope we continue to have such wonderful sessions at the Book Forum.

PS. Maybe I should have gone to Gurgaon. Perhaps a friend was waiting somewhere...

Babe and Adu

Teachers' Day

Yesterday was Teachers' Day. Can't remember how we celebrated it as kids (if it did exist then!) but of course there are some teachers who stand out in my memory. Recently when a magazine asked for a quote on my favourite teacher, I immediately thought of Mother Ositha. It's funny when you look back and think of the people who have helped you along the way,how vivid those memories are. I remember how all the excitement of going to boarding school evaporated two minutes after my mother left and a deluge of tears swamped me. As I stood with my face against a handy wall and howled my heart out, a warm hand gently pried me away. I don't know how I found myself in the midst of a game and it was miraculous how soon I was skipping around, my tears totally forgotten. As luck would have it, she turned out to be my class teacher and soon with her almost imperceptible encouragement I found myself climbing the class list of seven year old achievers. Interesting that my highest marks then were in composition, but I'm sure Mother Ositha had something to do with it.
Another teacher I remember for a different reason is Mrs. Hollow, who taught us in the 10th and 11th standard. An old school type, deaf as a post, she certainly did not spare the rod! A bad mood was enough reason to lambaste us! On the flip side she was a stickler for good writing and wouldn't allow us to read anything but the classics. So I offer fervent thanks to Ma'am Hollow too--not for the pastings but for helping me to develop a style.

Rani Lakshmibai

The fascination probably dates from having to learn the poem "Jhansi ki Rani" by Subhadra Kumari Chauhan, or maybe the Hindi lesson in which young Manu (Manikarnika was the Rani's original name, changed to Lakshmibai when she got married) helps a frightened Nana. It could even possibly be from a history lesson on the freedom movement--though it seems unlikely considering our oh-so-boring history books. However, ever since I picked up Mahashweta Devi's biography I had a secret hankering to some day write about this astonishing woman. Call it serendipity or the fact that somewhere someone is listening, but the book happened on its own, being commissioned. Reading about the freedom movement, especially the 1857 War of Independence is heady stuff--can arouse strong emotions. Personally, I feel this inner turmoil contributes much to the writing process. Sifting fact from legend can never be completed to your absolute satisfaction, especially where a figure like the Rani is concerned, so some doubts will always remain. The incident I liked best was when young Manu, denied an elephant ride by Nana and Balasaheb, retorts: 'I will ride ten elephants!' What a sense of destiny (if correctly recorded)!
And then the postscript--bumping into someone related by marriage to the Rani's paternal family. Too bad it was only after the book came out--but that's life for you!

Adu nd toys

Still writing...

Yes, I'm still writing. This is the reply I often have to make to the stock inquiry well meaning acquaintances fling at me--'Are you still writing?'--sometimes kindly, others patronizingly. In my most understanding moments I accept it as one of those ritual queries--how are you/is all well/are the children fine--people serve up in the course of polite interchange...An acknowledgment of my existence as another human being, someone who has tried to adopt a profession which is (most likely) baffling to those who do not 'write'.Most of the time this question arouses uncharitable responses which for various reasons I suppress to share later with other writers who have similar experiences. Yes, being the kind of masochist who has chosen to sequester myself in a dark niche I deserve what I get, perhaps. The kind of niche populated by similar gnomes who enjoy toiling in the dark but can share the glow cast by a nugget someone else has unearthed even if it is to compare its size with the one they have come up with. Occasionally one of us finds an extra large one and hopefully emerges into the light and one one ever asks her again--'Are you still writing?'
As for me, 40 books later I'm still waiting for my non-writer friends to learn that I write every single day of my life--even when I'm not feeding words into my computer!

Women's Day

Yesterday was Women's Day. There was plenty of commentary on what women have achieved and what they have not to escape from the traps nature, nurture, religion, custom, the state have set for them. What dismayed me was the finding that the majority of Indian women in metropolitan cities, whether housewives or employed outside their homes (remember housewives work very hard too, just for their keep) let the men in their families decide how to spend their money as well as their evening entertainment. I wonder what the women would have come up with if they analyzed the reasons why they didn't make these decisions for themselves. Where money matters were concerned, ignorance could be one, though many women are far more canny than men in financial matters. Think of all the housewives managing to take care of their families' needs on the limited allowances doled out to them. Haggling, hunting for bargains, saving a rupee here, another there. The smarter ones(read selfish in popular parlance) often lay up a decent nest egg for themselves. The sacrificey Hindi movie types will of course, save to produce the fund at a time of family crisis.

Whatever it be, it seemed horribly depressing that a woman who put in double duty,efficiently taking care of the household chores and then putting in her best at office would not think herself worthy or competent enough to decide how to spend her own money. Or be afraid of being considered selfish, making mistakes and being put down, of not being loved, of having to face ugly scenes, maybe physical violence.
To all of us women who suffer from these and other multitudinous fears, who dare not make a choice of what they would like to do on an evening--the movie of their choice,even a TV programme, or just sitting in their rooms and reading a book, going out to a pub (especially because of Mangalore) or a cultural event, I say--please, at least give your wish a voice. No one will love you more just because you always keep trying to please them. More likely, they'll push you more and more into a corner. Soon you'll be wedged in so firmly that you'll never be able to get out. You deserve a lot more from those families for whose happiness you're stifling yourself and they won't give it to you unless you ask them for it.
And think, please sit down and spare a moment to analyse the reasons why you act like that. Maybe you might be able to change yourself. It's very, very hard, but it's more than worth a try.
There, now I've said all this out, I'm going to sit down and think why I let my husband give me suggestions about how to invest my negligible earnings. But the truth is, when I'm spending I don't ask anyone's advice! When I have some money to spend, I go all out and splurge. As for the evening's entertainment, we discuss it and sometimes even do out separate things. I think it's civilized enough and so far hasn't caused too much grief.

Putting Teddy to sleep

The Loneliness of the Aged P (Parent)

Last night my oldest daughter Garima left for Geneva, where she lives, after a three week long stay. As her visit drew to a close, the usual sympathetic comments from friends and relatives fell on my ears like acid rain:'It's going to be lonesome when she leaves...Oh well...she'll only come back after a year...Lucky you, your youngest lives in Delhi, some consolation, etc. etc...'
I made the appropriate noises and inwardly gnashed my teeth. Right, it's a truth universally acknowledged that Aged Ps are condemned to the unrelenting gloom of a solitary existence when the little birdies spread their wings and fly off to distant places. Particularly mothers. My own mother was consumed by loneliness, living by herself in a deserted neck of the woods and I was consumed by guilt that I couldn't do enough to relieve it.
Over the years I have encountered so many discussions on the miseries of an old age sans the comfort of your children's loving presence that I sometimes wonder how people retain their sanity at all. Just a few days ago I read a rather chilling short story, "Toga Party" by John Barth, about an aging couple who enter into a suicide pact because they cannot bear the thought of living on without the other. Their children live far away and don't care enough.
All this makes me almost feel guilty that I can be quite comfortable in my solitude. Of course, I miss my daughters and my two grand kids. But I can enjoy my own company too, thank you! How else would I manage to write a word? Or read? Or simply daydream?
Solitude sets you free to be yourself, without the pressure of living up to roles that you have acquired in the course of your existence or been compelled to. It gives you space to breathe as deep as you wish. That's the way I feel.

The Bizzy-Buddy mysteries

THE CASE OF THE MISSING POP STAR (contd.)

“Arre? What’s the matter? You two up already?” Dad looked surprised. Have you forgotten it’s Saturday?”
“Hasn’t Ma told you, Dad? Gautam bhaiya is taking us to meet Lassi,” Buddy said.
“Who’s Lassi? What kind of a name is that? Is it a dog?”
“Dad please, don’t you know Lassi?…Hey, you’re pretending!” Bizzy cried as she saw a smile slowly spread over Dad’s face.
The sound of a car horn being blown insistently alerted them that Gautam had arrived. They rushed outside right away.

The lift zoomed up to the sixth floor of the hotel. Bizzy and Buddy exchanged excited glances. Gautam bhaiya smiled.
“He’s quite a nice guy, you know,” he said. “Very friendly. Ah, here we are.”
The doors of the lift slid open and they stepped out. Bizzy’s heart was thudding as they walked down the narrow, maroon carpeted passage that led to Lassi’s room. Then Gautam bhaiya suddenly stopped short.
“Hey—where are the security guys?” he exclaimed. “What’s going on?” He rushed forward.
The door to Lassi’s room was slightly ajar. Their skins prickling with sudden apprehension, the twins followed him.
“Tinkooji, Rajesh, what’s the matter…Where’s Lassiji?”
The two men in front of them looked very, very anxious and--afraid. The older one, plump with a smooth, bald head, who was on the phone, paused in the act of dialing. His face was grave as he said, “We don’t know—he seems to have vanished!”
“Vanished! Where? How? Where are the security guards?”
“We-we’ve sent them to check out the whole hotel thoroughly. Bobby his personal bodyguard has gone with them too.”
“But--how did this happen and who’re you calling?”
“I…I was calling his secretary in Bombay—asking his advice. Maybe we ought to call the police…”
“No!” Gautam’s hand clamped on to the receiver of the phone. He banged it down. “We can’t tell anyone right now. We’ve got to try and find him ourselves first. Otherwise there’ll be a big hangama. Tell me how it all happened!”
“You know Lassiji. He wakes up at six thirty and after a glass of lassi he goes for his workout. He had gone down to the hotel gym. The security people were with him. After his workout he went to the toilet there. The guards waited outside, Bobby too. When he didn’t come out for a long time, they went inside to check. But there was no one there—the toilets were all empty. He-he seemed to have vanished into thin air!”

“Vanished into thin air? B-But how?” Buddy cried.
“That’s we’re wondering,” Tinkoo said gloomily. “It seems Chota Samson has got him.”
“Chota Samson?” Bizzy asked.
“The gangster,” Rajesh clarified. “But…it doesn’t seem like his style. More likely he’d shoot him down openly.”
Gautam frowned. “Let’s go there and check up,” he said, getting up. They all walked rapidly down the plush carpeted corridors and took the lift to the gym, which was on another floor. The security guards were still there, looking around.
“He just went in,” said Bobby, a muscular looking guy, pointing to the toilet, “and we sat here waiting…and he never came out.”
“It doesn’t seem possible!” Gautam shook his head. “Where could he have gone?”

Where has Lassi gone? Will Bizzy and Buddy find out? Wait to find out...

The Bizzy-Buddy Mysteries

The Bizzy-Buddy Mysteries appeared in serial form almost ten years ago in Chatterbox, a wonderful magazine for kids which had to close down, sadly.

Readers enjoyed them a lot. But what does a writer do with magazine stories after they've appeared? Sometimes they can be published as a book. But often it takes some time to find a publisher. I thought it might be a good idea to share these stories with readers via my blog. Hope you enjoy them!

THE CASE OF THE MISSING POP STAR

“See this?” Fattu waved something in front of Bizzy’s face. There was a triumphant grin on his broad, self-satisfied face.

“How can I, when you’re waving it at supersonic speed?” Bizzy snapped. She couldn’t stand Fattu. The class pest, he was always bragging and showing off. That’s why he’d been nicknamed Fattu.

“Show me!” Her twin Buddy reached out and grabbed Fattu’s hand.

“Careful!” Fattu shrieked. “You might tear it!”

“What is it, for God’s sake?” Bizzy said. “A million dollar note?”

“Well, almost as precious,” Fattu smirked, laying down the green slip of paper before her on the desk. “It’s a ticket to the Lassi show—you know—Mast Mast Lassi! A thousand rupee one, in case you haven’t noticed.” His eyes glittered with smug delight.

Bizzy bit down her fury. The Lassi show! Her favourite pop star, he was having a show right here in Delhi in a couple of days. And she had no chance of going while this creep...But before she could react, she heard the sound of chairs being scraped back. An instantaneous hush followed telling her that the teacher had arrived. She hurriedly got to her feet along with the rest of the students.

“Oh, what wouldn’t I give to go to the Lassi show!” Bizzy cried.

“How about selling your precious diamond ring!” Buddy teased.

“Creep!” Bizzy threw a pencil at him.

They were back from school, holed up in Buddy’s room, trying to finish off their homework. Though they had separate rooms they always studied together. And invariably in Buddy’s room which always had each and everything in place unlike Bizzy’s horribly messy one.

Even though they were twins, twelve-year-old Bizzy and Buddy were quite different to look at, being fraternal and not identical twins. Bizzy was taller, skinny as a bamboo stick with a mop of curly hair always falling into her eyes. Chunky-built Buddy was exactly twenty-three minutes younger and much he resented it. He had inquisitive black eyes, which shone brightly behind his glasses. A natural snoop, he could never keep his small, sharp nose out of anything.

Their actual names were Vasundhara and Vardeshwar. But an aunt whom they had been visiting when they were just two and a half had exclaimed, “What a pair of busybodies!” as she watched them scramble all over the place, peering into cupboards, pulling stuff out of drawers. “They should be called Busy and Body.” These had somehow turned into Bizzy and Buddy and now hardly anyone knew their real names any more!

“Well, it’s no use moaning and howling,” Buddy said, catching the pencil. “You know we can’t. I’d never dream of asking Dad or Ma to shell out a thousand bucks for a show. Even if it is Lassi himself.”

“Well I wouldn’t either!” Bizzy shot back. “But I do want to go, yaar. Terribly.”

“I told you it’s no use, so will you kindly shut up!” Buddy said. “I want to finish my maths homework.”

Bizzy made a face. Buddy was too down to earth. She stared down at her social studies book but her mind was far away...

Distractedly she listened to her mother talking on the phone in the next room. “Accha,” she heard her say. “So Gautam’s company is doing the Lassi show…”

Something whirred in Bizzy’s mind. “Gautam bhaiya!” she screamed suddenly, making Buddy jump.

“What do you mean, Gautam bhaiya?” He frowned.

“Gautam bhaiya! Did you hear? The company he’s working for--it’s organising the show. He could get us passes…maybe.”

“Passes…hunh!” Buddy frowned again. “Forget it! A hundred million people must have asked him already.”

“Come on, yaar! Don’t be such a bore. By the way…I remember seeing their office address in the paper. It’s at Vasant Place. That’s practically next door! Come on!”

The office of Star Track Pvt. Ltd. was awhirl with frantic activity. Buddy looked sulky. Bizzy had practically dragged him there. But now that he was here, the excitement grabbed him too. The whole place throbbed with it. People scurrying around, phones ringing nonstop, piles of posters lying around. He picked one up. THE ONE AND ONLY MAST MAST LASSI! it said, with a huge photograph of the pop star dressed in his favourite colours, black and silver. Below, in smaller letters was written, ‘Also Dilruba Makki in a special appearance’.

“Gautam?” A young girl said in reply to Bizzy’s question. “He’s in the next room.”

Gautam bhaiya had always been one of their favourite cousins. Lean, lanky, with a smile always splitting his face, he was staring hard at a computer screen.

He started up. “Hey, you two! What’re you doing here?”

“Came to see what was happening with the Lassi show.” Bizzy’s smile was wide.

“Whewooo—big excitement. See, I was just checking the arrangements. He’s flying down from Bombay—“

“Where’s he staying?” Buddy asked.

“We’ve got bookings in three hotels.”

“Three hotels!”

“Yes,” his voice sank to a whisper. “This is top secret. He’s in big danger. It’s a marvel that he agreed to this show. We’ve booked in three hotels so no one can be sure where he’s staying.”

“B-but why?”

“Some underworld don, I can’t tell you his name, is miffed at him. He refused to perform at his son’s wedding. They say he’s given out a supari contract.”

“Oh no!” Bizzy felt goose pimples prickle her skin. “I must say it’s very brave of him to come.”

“Brave! I bet he’s getting big money,” Buddy scoffed.

“You won’t believe what we’re paying him. And we’ve got unbelievable security around, too, besides his own personal bodyguard. But we’re expecting to do pretty well ourselves too. The tickets are all sold out.” He stopped and looked at them. “Say…you kids looking for passes?” He frowned. “I’ll see what I can do. There are big demands from important people. If …I can’t get you any, I promise I’ll at least arrange for you to meet him, get his autograph. I’m the one who’s supposed to be personally taking care of him.”

“Oh, that’ll be too wonderful! When’s he arriving?” Bizzy asked.

“Tonight, by one of the late night flights. The show’s just tomorrow.”

“Right,” Buddy said.

“Tell you what. I have to be there at the hotel tomorrow again at eight. If you can and if you want to come along then, you could. It’ll be the only chance, actually. The rest of the day will be crazy with the press and all coming.”

“Of course we can!” Bizzy bounded up. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. No school.”

”I’ll pick you up at quarter past seven, then, okay? Be ready.”

“Ohhhh! Thanks Gautam bhaiya! Thanks so much!” Bizzy gave him a big hug.

What happens next? Wait till tomorrow to find out!