The story teller

The story teller
Re written by Koshy Brahmatmaj

It was a hot afternoon. I was on my way to Churchgate. A few stops after me, 2 small girls and a small boy got in the train. Accompany them was their aunt. The four of them went and found a window seat empty and rushed to get that and the other surrounding seat. Sitting opposite them was a young girl with headphones. Now let me tell you, it is quite a task to handle a child in a Mumbai Local Train. And this Lady here was travelling with three.

As soon as the train moved the children were restless. The conversations between the children and the aunt was limited to “I want this” “no” and “why”. If you are smart enough you will understand who said what. The young girl was visibly annoyed but didn’t say anything.

“No, Rohit, no,” exclaimed the aunt, as the small boy started to try to hang from the handle bar above him. “Why,” asked the boy. “Because you will fall down and break your head. Now come, stand near the window.”

Rohit rolled his eyes and went a stood near the window.  “Why are these people farming near the railway track” he asked.

“Because there is no space anywhere else to grow these vegetables” replied the aunt.

“Why don’t they have any other space to grow vegetables” the boy asked.

“Because people have made houses everywhere else” replied the aunt.

“Then why do some people don’t have a place to live in?”

“Enough of these questions. Come here. Sit quietly”

At Bandra station a group of women and kids entered the train to sell things. They sell ear rings, hair bands, hair clips, colouring books, mobile and iPod cover, finger rings, nail polish, safety pins etc.

“I want colouring book,” cried the smaller girl.

“No.”

“Can I have that pink nail polish,” asked the bigger of the small girls.

“No,” replied the Aunt while bargaining for the bunch of safety pins.

“Why,” demanded the bigger of the small girls.

“Because I said so,” replied the aunt with a stern voice.

Hearing her aunt talk in a stern voice, the smaller girl got angry and started to cry. The young girl wanted to change her seat but there just wasn’t any other seat available. Poor girl! She was stuck there.

Seeing the discomfort amongst fellow passenger s, aunt finally managed to stop the smaller girl crying. “Come I’ll tell you story.”

Rohit rolled his eyes, smaller girl squealed with excitement and the bigger one continued looking outside the window.

As loudly as she could, frequently interrupted by questioning from her listeners, she began an unenterprising and uninteresting story about a little good girl who was good and made friends with everyone on account of her goodness, and was finally saved from a mad bull by a number of rescuers who admired her moral character.

“They saved her only because she was good?” demanded Rohit. Even the young girl wanted to ask this.

“Yes,” admitted the aunt, “this is why you should always be good. If people don’t like you, they won’t come to save you.”

“It’s the stupidest story I’ve ever heard” said the bigger girl.

The smaller girl just started to hum her favourite song.

“That was a horrible story. You are not a good story teller” said the young girl while removing her headphones.

The aunt bristled in instant defense at this unexpected attack.

“You college girls,” said the aunt, “just say whatever you want to. Do you even understand kids? It is very difficult to tell stories those children ca both understand and appreciate.”

“I don’t agree with you,” said the young girl, “I’ll tell them a story.”

“Oh no! One more story,” exclaimed the bigger girl in disappointment.

“Tell us a story,” demanded Rohit.

“Once up a time,” began the young girl, “there was a little girl called Sunheri, who was extra-ordinarily good”

The children’s interest began to flicker.

“She respected her elders, always drank milk in the night, never lied, kept her clothes clean, did her homework on time, ate leafy vegetables, and was polite in her manners.”

“Was she pretty?” asked the bigger of the small girls.

“Not as pretty as any of you,” said the young girl.

“Did she a have a doll?” asked the smaller girl.

“Yes. Because she was horribly good,” said the young girl.

Suddenly everyone was interested in listening to the story. The word horrible in connection with goodness was a novelty in itself.

“She won several medals and prizes for being good.” continued the young girl. “She always wore those medals she got for her goodness pinned to her frock. There was a medal for obedience, another medal for punctuality, and a third for good behavior. They were large metal medals and they clicked against each other when she walked, jumped or laughed. No other child had as many medals as she had. Everybody knew she was extremely good.”

“When the prince of the town heard of this extremely good girl, he allowed her to visit his private park once a week. It was a beautiful park and no other children were allowed. It was a great honor for Sunheri to be allowed to go there.”

“Were there any rabbits in the park?” asked the smaller girl.

“No;” said the young girl, “there were no rabbits.”

“Why?” came the inevitable questions in unison.

The aunt grinned.

“There were no rabbits in the park,” said the young girl, “because an astrologer told the prince’s mother that her son would either be killed by a rabbit or a plastic bag. For that reason the prince never kept a rabbit or a plastic bag in his palace.

The aunt was pleased, but she managed to suppress her emotion.

“But there were lots of cats, dogs and pigs,” continued the young girl, “of every possible color, running here and there. Fighting and playing with each other.”

The story teller paused to let a full idea the park’s treasures sink into the children’s imaginations; then she resumed;

“There were a lot of delightful things in the park, ponds, fishes, birds, trees and even a chocolate fountain. Sunheri walked up and down and enjoyed immensely, and thought to herself: ‘If I were not so horribly good I would have not been allowed to come to this beautiful park.’ Her medals clinked against one another as she walked and helped to remind her how good she was. Just then an enormous wolf came prowling into the park to see if it could catch a fat little pig for its lunch.”

“What was the color of the wolf?” asked the children.

“Mud colour all over, with black tongue, pale grey eyes and horrible breath. The wolf saw Sunheri. Her clean and bright clothes could be seen from a distance. Sunheri saw the wolf and saw that he was running towards her, she began to wish she was never allowed in this park. Why was she so good? She ran as hard as she could. She managed to reach mustard field ad she hid in the thickest part. The wolf came sniffing among the branches. Sunheri was terribly frightened and wished that she wasn’t this good. However the smell of mustard was so strong that wolf couldn’t smell Sunheri, and the plantation was so thick that it would take him ages to find her. So he thought he might go and catch a pig instead. Sunheri was trembling with fear and as she trembled her medals clinked against each other. The wolf was just moving when he heard the sound of the medals clinking and stopped to listen; the sound was near him. He dashed into the bush, dragged Sunheri out and devoured her to the last morsel. All that was left was were her shoes, bits of clothing and three medals.”

“Were any pigs killed?”

“No, they all escaped with the rabbits, dogs and cats.”

“This was the best story I have ever heard” said the three children.

A dissentient opinion came from aunt.

“The most improper story to tell to young children! You college kids always undermine the effect of years of careful teaching”

“Whatever,” said the young women, “I managed to keep them quiet for ten minutes, which was more than you were able to do.”