SOULspace

  Like all stories, mine is a nested story. Stories within stories. Yet it starts at the very beginning - a very good place to start. When we sing we begin with DO RE ME , when we read we begin with ABC, when we tell a story we begin with... One upon a time.... there lived a 10 year old who knew a huge big tree! We had a huge tree near our lunch ground in school and the moment bell rang we would call dibs on who would get to climb the tree and eat while sitting on it. Life was full of adventure. The Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton was my favorite book growing up and climbing trees was my favorite thing to do. Every day was an adventure. I was the Flame of the Forest ( Gul Mohur) bursting into movement, full of curiosity, colour and carefree was what everyone who met me told me. At that young age of 10 years, of curiosity and adventure, 40 seemed so far away and old. 50 was the age my mother would go onto have her first grandchild! I am now 49 years old and turning 50 ...

She did not even know she was pregnant. The sudden bleeding was unusual and coming after an epic trekking expedition; she thought it was the stress and strain that had brought on the out pour. The doctor was doubtful and her leading questions came like a bolt at Sanjana. Now she remembered the skipped days and rued her lack of responsibility. Having relocated to a new country just 6 months back and learning to adjust was tough enough. What was tougher was the sense of loneliness and isolation that she was experiencing. It had led Prakash to arrange for her to take this trek; so that she could meet new people and also do something she really loved, be one with nature. Tears poured down her eyes and the Doctor was a bit taken aback at the grief she saw. “Prakash, I just learnt I have lost our baby”, she sobbed into the phone, not explaining head or tail or what had transpired. Concerned at the pain she was feeling, Prakash organised for a friend to bring her back home....

She was all of 9 years when she came to my class. Bright eyes, short cropped hair, toothy, gummy smile! It was a small class of four students (only!). A cozy class!! The significant fact was that we are all newcomers. I had just joined school as a teacher; our class was new, especially set up for us. The walls were bare for us to fill, the furniture was new for us to choose and claim as our own. New ideas, new experiences and new relationships! For Sneha this was her first schooling experience ever, and she was like a kid in a chocolate factory. Fidgety in her chair, eyes eagerly absorbing all the newness. Impatient to do something, wanting to impress! For a mere one year she came to school, thoroughly enjoying her bus ride from far off Yelahanka. We did some painting, some music, drama, some numbers, alphabets, puzzles. Every day was fun. “I am glad she is coming to school, It’s her dream” her mother confided in me one day. “Is it not too far from where you live?” I asked. ...

  Kamakshi was sitting in the corner of the small one room tenement, reading from the light of a single bulb that hung on the beam of the ceiling. This was a habit she could not give up. I mean her reading habit!  Her mother didn’t understand how much joy it gave her to read stories of places and people. She literally felt like she was in the book, traveling and speaking like the characters. Going far and away from this small room and all the hardships she saw her mother facing everyday. Kamakshi, a voice called her from outside and she recognized it immediately as Thanigai. "Che" was the first word that escaped her mouth. She couldn’t stand this guy. He lived in their neighborhood and ran the vegetable shop. Whenever he was free he came to their house, to talk to her mother, to bring her some free vegetables and flash his teeth at her. But Kamakshi knew he wanted something more than just to talk and the free vegetables was not given out of some concern for her widowed ...

  Usually we drag our feet to go to school. But Hari dragged his feet to go home. He hung around the school until security chased him out, then he would slowly make his way down the foot path towards the bus stop. Almost everyday he would miss his stop and have to get off at the next and walk through the cross roads that finally led him to his apartment complex. He hated being alone in his house. Both his parents were working and reached home late. Every day for the past three months he had to go to their neighbors house pick up the house key and open the door. “Why cant I take the key with me Appa?”   “I am 9 years old, “Why do I have to go the Varma Uncle's  house everyday?” “Look Hari, you refuse to go to day care anymore and say you are old enough to take care of yourself. We allowed you to take the key but you lost it. This is the best way to keep the key safe and that way we also know Varma Uncle will keep an eye on you.” Hari almost choked at his father’s...