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Life of a KID

Lives of kids are simple. They are like butterflies, colourful and beautiful. Being a child is the closest you can get in your entire lif...

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

The Storyteller

"Those who tell the stories, rule the world”  - proverb

She was fascinated by the story he was telling, she never took her eyes off of his face. There is a spark of curiosity and joy in her beautiful little black eyes. One can see the joy and pleasure of hearing the  story spreading from her little eyes to her beautiful face. She loves to hear bedtime stories. When her dad asks her, which one today? She always picks fantasy. She loves to hear about winged creatures that rule the skies, people who can fly and disappear, Angels, talking trees and mountains etc. She always wants her dad to be the narrator. She likes his crisp and soothing voice. One day, he came home tired, a hectic day. He refused to tell the story and scolded her for being obstinate. That day she didn’t sleep and the whole night she wept which made her eyes swollen. After that incident, he never dared to say no to her.

It was a long hectic day. The whole day went bad for him. He was tired and frustrated. It is already nearing 9’o’ clock. He knew she will be waiting for him, it's already her bed time now. He pressed the calling bell with a heavy head. His wife opened the door and he heard small footsteps running toward him. Without looking up he said, Please kiddo not today, I m too tired.
But papa, I was waiting for you. One story.... pleaseeee....
No, Not today. I will tell tomorrow, a dozen of your favourite ones.
But, I want to hear it right now
No. Don't be childish. Go to sleep. His voice raised, this time.

Her eyes grew wet. She wanted to yell but was scared. She ran to her room.
He felt sad for her, his heart felt the heaviness. What did she do? Poor thing. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on her.
He walked into her room.
She was talking. First, he thought she was talking to herself. But when he peeped through the hinges of the half-open door, he saw a small clay figurine of Lord Ganesh in her hand and she is conversating with it. A child who likes to let her imagination runs wild like a hurricane, who other than Ganesh, half elephant half man, would be her favourite.

She was murmuring in his ears,
Papa is so mean, he doesn’t want to tell me stories. He is angry with me.
Inside the Mind of a Lunatic - WordPress.comWhat do I do? Her sweet voice cracked.
Whenever he is angry with, the people in office, he scolds me and never listen to me.
You know Ganesh, when he prays to you in the morning, don't listen to him. Tell him that you had a fight with your parents. And scold him well, okay ?

She put the Ganesh figure beside her and tugged it close with her little hands. 

His eyes were wet. Though unconsciously, the point she made was loud and clear to him. You can’t vent your frustration and anger on others without thinking. What if the god himself thought the same way. What if he get bored of doing the same thing over and over, i.e. listening to our prayers. He understood how lucky he was, every story, every single word off his mouth is creating magic in her. The connection he has with his daughter is magical. Every word touches an emotion and creates a connection. He opened the door and entered, this time as a magician ready to work his magic.
courtesy : Geneix