The Storyteller

Friday, April 22, 2011

Lower Falls Creek Lake at Callaway Gardens

Azalea Bowl at Callaway Gardens 

Campsite: Storytelling in progress inside the blue tent 
It was the second day of our camping trip. After returning from a visit to nearby Callaway Gardens and Roosevelt's Little White House, I went inside my tent to put my body in horizontal position to minimize the effects of gravity so that my heart could efficiently pump more blood, carrying oxygen and nutrients to my overworked muscular system, which was punishing me with a severe headache. Barely had I lain down for a few minutes when two intruders entered my tent.


They had probably arrived in search of some adventure, but when they couldn’t find any, as there was nothing besides bedding on the floor, and clothes and toiletries spilling from two travel bags, both the young intruders demanded a story from me.

Little Miss Sunshine, Shruti Nainwal, the five-year-old with curly hair and a smile that could brighten up a thousand hearts, and her elder sister Shreya Nainwal, the one with extraordinary wits, cornered me. “We want a story. We want story. Story. Story.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” I surrendered. “Let me think.” A story by Saki (H. H. Munro) came to my mind. Although I didn’t remember its title and most of its content, I was ready to make it up as I went along. “Hmm…now listen. Once there was a little girl….”

“What was her name?” Shruti interrupted. Probably she wanted to know if I was going to narrate another adventure of Little Miss Sunshine.

“This girl was named Bertha," I continued. "She was an extremely horribly good girl. She always completed her homework in time, ate whatever her mom served, and never fought with her elder sister. Her teachers loved her. She won several medals at school, such as a medal for good behavior, one for obedience, one for cleanliness etc. etc. She always kept those medals pinned to her dress. And when she moved or walked those medals clinked with each other. The Prince of her country heard about her goodness and invited her to visit his garden, a place similar to Callaway Gardens. On the designated day, Bertha went to the royal garden. She was roaming around, thinking about her own goodness when suddenly, tabhi achanak, she saw a wolf at a distance. She ran in the opposite direction and hid behind some bushes.

“She could see the wolf from small gaps between the leaves, but the wolf couldn’t see her. She sat as still as she could, but soon started trembling out of fear, which made her medals clink. The wolf found her out and devoured her, leaving behind only her clothes, shoes, and the medals”

Both my listeners sat silent, probably contemplating the gory ending. And then Shruti asked. “Is this a real story like Osama Bin-Laden’s attack on America?” This was the story I had narrated the previous day, to which she had seriously asked, “But where is the attack? Why can’t I see it?” And then, “Why did he attack?” After I explained to her how people believed in different imaginary forms of God, and then fought for the superiority of their ancestors' imaginations, all Shruti had to say was, “That is so mean.”

I told Shruti that this one wasn’t a real story, and then explained to Shreya that it was based on a story by a very famous author named Saki.

“Now, another story,” Shruti demanded.

“It’s Shreya’s turn,” I said. “She will tell us a story.”

“No, I want to hear one more story from Giri Aunty,” Shruti declared. “Giri Aunty is the best storyteller in the world!”

That made me so glad and filled my heart with so much joy that I felt like I was a bird swooping over a lake. I started to recollect more stories for them. At that time, my husband came inside to get something. I excitedly told him what Shruti had just said.

“Ahem,” he replied while taking his camera and rushing out. “You should start babysitting our neighbor’s kids. At least you’ll make some money.”

Later in the evening, while we sat at the fireside on our folding chairs, I told everyone that Shruti told me that I was the best storyteller in the world.

To which Shruti’s dad objected, “How can your Giri Aunty be the best? What about Daddy? I tell you so many stories. Your Giri Aunty has even plagiarized my phrase, tabhi achanak (and then suddenly.)”

“Yes,” Shruti’s mom supported him. ”Someday your daddy is going to sue Giri Aunty for that.”

“No.…” Shruti quieted everyone. “I said that because…because I wanted to hear another story.”

While I was marveling at her ingenuity and honesty, and her parents were discussing my blatant use of  ‘tabhi achanak,’ little Shruti, who never wants to hurt anybody’s feelings, shouted, “April fool, everyone.” It was still the month of April.

After coming home, I googled Saki’s stories, and to my surprise, found that the title of the story that I told was THE STORY-TELLER. I read the marvelous story once again and discovered that what I had narrated was a fraction of it in terms of content as well as style. I sure need a lot of improvement.

17 comments:

  1. What gorgeous pictures!!! And that was a really lovely story, esp when one reads between the lines... So Giri aunty is a wonderful story-teller :-)

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  2. Whoa- whats with the gory ending? Kids should listen to good stories with happy ending...and the kid was smart too, kept everyone happy:)

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  3. I logged into facebook in the morning to see whats happening in the facebook world 'tabhi achanak,' I saw your blog post link on the facebook wall. I read it till the end and found that it was awesome!

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  4. @Pallavi: Considering your experience as a fiction writer, this is a cool compliment. Thanks!

    @Perception: Yeah, finally everyone was happy!

    @Anto: Et tu Anto! Tabhi achanak, I saw your like...thanks :-)

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  5. Lovely pictures!!!

    Kids of present gen know how to wrap us around their tiny fingers!!! :D

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  6. A picturesque amazing post.. :)

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  7. Absolutely loved the pictures! And I think I agree with Shruti, you are a good story teller, I love the way you write.

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  8. The pictures steal the show...You are lucky!

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  9. You really are the best story-teller in the world. Because you could make a story out of telling a story to these girls. :)
    Awesome pictures! Btw nothing wrong with your health na?

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  10. Dear Giri Aunty,
    Great story about Shruti and I
    What's really funny is that I was reading a book with a similar title. i believe it was called storyteller. i read just the way you described the act of lying down. It was funny because someone thought you were ill.
    ~Shreya~

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  11. Thanks Smita, Rachit, Deepa, Alka !! Yes it was a picturesque place :-)

    @Sammy: Thanks! Nothing wrong with my health as Shreya has attested in her comment, though I have a hunch that I could be having some health problems in 2022. Therefore not accepting any invitations right now...

    @Shreya: Thank you for reading! I hope you read the original story by Saki too....It is a riot. Do tell me about the book you read when we meet next :-)

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  12. Shruti-ke-papa का तकियाकलाम is good butI liked some of the urdu story तकियाकलाम :-
    1. हर कविता को ऐसे लिखो गोयाकि यह तुम्हारी आख़िरी कविता है
    2. चुनांचे सभी मोमिन अल्लाह के प्यारे है
    3. भौजी को ही दरअसल हमारा सुख से रहना कभी नहीं सुहाया।
    4. दादा अब्बा का तकियाकलाम था- खुदा गारत करे। पहले किसी को दुआ दी.. बाद में जोड़ दिया- खुदा गारत करे।

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  13. Heheh...I want to be a child again and listen to Giri Aunty tell her cock and bull stories :D

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  14. I’ve read the entire Saki collection, or so I thought, but I seem to have missed this one! Thank you for uncovering a treasure for me!

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  15. @Lalit: इतने अच्छे तकियाकलाम आप कहाँ से ढूँढ कर लाये हैं?:-) I had once read some stories by Ibne Insha, but haven't been able to them on the net.

    @Purba: Yeah.....I will be a child too and then we will exchange stories.

    @BKC: You forgot to write 'awe' in the middle of the four words. Just kidding. Thanks for reading :-)

    @Gargi: I have also read the entire collection :-)

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  16. Kids have grown more shrewd than they were before. Call it necessity or innocence lost.

    Oh I am taking these pics for my desktop wallpapers, they are so gooooooood. I hope you don't mind. I won't be linking them back to you (or maybe I would :P) when I show my desktop to the world. :)

    So, how is the blood flow now? have your brain muscles flexed enough to relieve themselves from the headache?

    Cheers,
    Blasphemous Aesthete

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