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Granny would read to me stories from an old leather bound book. She never let me touch the volume. It was hers, off limits and only she could read from it.
As the bus panted its way through the lush foliage of the foothills, I craned my neck out of the window and inhaled deeply. The hills smelled the same, of pine and juniper. The crisp breeze whispered of winter. I sighed albeit sadly for this journey was tinged with sorrow.
**
My childhood vacations were spent at Granny’s house in the hills. I was orphaned at seven. Granny, a widow, took me in and raised me. At the age of ten, she enrolled me in boarding school so that I could receive a better education. But, I always went home for the vacations. They were a magical time for us both.
Granny’s sprawling bungalow was built around a central courtyard, dominated by a huge Mango tree. On sunlit winter afternoons, she would bundle up in her cashmere shawl, drape a woolen scarf over her ears and sit in the courtyard. I would happily lounge nearby. Oh, I loved those afternoon dalliances of ours. Granny would read to me stories from an old leather bound book. She never let me touch the volume. It was hers, off limits and only she could read from it. It was all quite mysterious and terribly exciting for a child.
Once I had asked, ‘Granny, why is this book so special?’
She had winked, smiled and said, ‘because it’s magical.’
As years passed, I grew up, finished school and moved farther away for graduation. Granny’s tales were an undeniable influence in my career choice. I studied English Honors and then journalism. My visits home became infrequent but Granny and I still communicated with each other on the phone.
Then one day, Kaki*, Granny’s caretaker called.
‘Ruhi, Granny’s gone,’ she sobbed.
My world rocked. Suddenly, I felt rudderless and alone. Needless to say, I went back home. As I entered her room, there, by her bedside lay the book.
‘She wanted you to have it,’ Kaki said embracing me.
Almost reverently I flipped open the pages. ‘What the…? It’s blank.’ I looked at Kaki, mystified. Are you sure this is the book that Granny read to me from in childhood, the story book?’
Kaki smiled. ‘Of course it is.’
‘But Kaki, it’s blank.’
Kaki’s eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t you remember Granny’s words Ruhi?’
I scrunched up my face at the elusive memory. My mind flew to the many conversations we had shared in the courtyard. Snippets from a long lost conversation came to mind now.
‘Ruhi, always remember that words are the most powerful source of magic. Your words have the ability to create beautiful tales. When you have the right words, the magic of your imagination will do the rest. Just believe in your words.’
I chuckled now at the memory and glanced at Kaki. ‘This book was always blank, wasn’t it Kaki?’
A sad smile lit Kaki’s face. ‘Yes, it was. Your Granny was illiterate.’
Today, I am a published author and I owe it all to the ‘magic of imagination’ that Granny inculcated in me.
Author’s note: Kaki – term of endearment that means ‘aunty’.
Image source: Unsplash
Sonal is a multiple award winning blogger and writer and the founder of a women-centric manpower search firm - www.rianplacements.com. Her first book, a volume of poetry - Islands in the stream - is slated read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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