Amazing Kids! Magazine

Story of Stories

By Samyuktha Kumar, Contributing Writer

 

I still cherish the magical moments of my first introduction to stories. My grandma was a brilliant storyteller. As I was a mischief-maker, she always came up with stories spun in a web of morals for troublemakers like me. There were stories about kings and castles, spaceships and epics, folk and fantasy, animals and real life characters with me in it too and… many more fabulous things. They came in a complete package bundled with so much fun, humor, mystery and adventure. They hooked me up so much, often they doubled up as bedtime stories. All the while, I imagined my grandma as the author of those fables and amazed how creative she had been.

When I grew, my interest for stories also thrived. I’ve learnt to read. I started to read all kinds of genres that seemed familiar to me. As a juvenile reader, I had twisted and sprained my tongue with Dr. Seuss’s books, oinked and clucked with Dick King-Smith’s farm stories and had fun with Berenstain Bears too. I enjoyed the feel of the paper and the smell of the pages more than e- books. Later I had my nose stuck with mini chapter books like Magic School Bus,

Magic Tree House, Junie B Jones, and Secret Seven. Slowly I became a voracious reader and got immersed into novels by Carolyn Keene, Laura Ingalls, Roald Dahl, Polly Horvath, J.K Rowling and the endless list went on.

Slowly my grandma stories faded away from my mind. Last time when I visited my grandma, I charged my luggage with oodles of books, wondering how to while away my time over there. First few days went off mutely as I completely plunged myself into the books. I overheard my grandma wistfully telling my mom how sober and matured I became. Of course, she was right. After I was introduced to books I did sober down and stopped saying “I’m bored.” All my material rewards were traded for books. I walked, ate, and slept with books which made my mom furious. She was never against my reading, but her only complaint was that I was missing out on lot of good things and interesting conversations around me. Also my shortsightedness and spectacles, solely got associated to my reading. Now I get in trouble for reading.

New set of rules were laid in the house. Rule #1: No books on the dinner table. Result: my dad lost the privilege of reading newspapers during dinnertime. The next one was the worst. Rule# 2:

The reading time would be rationed. “Lights out” policy also got launched. I thoroughly loathed my mom for that. Adding to all these, my academic work also squished my reading hours further.

The after effect was, my mom started finding books everywhere in the house – in between the pillows, inside of the laundry bin, under the couch…almost all the places which was below 4’4″. It was only my grandma who planted the interest in me for stories followed by mom who encouraged my love for reading. Now, I heard my Mom cribbing something to my grandma in the next room with a feeble voice. I was much too engaged, all I heard was just one word, “books”. My mind pondered over the good old days of storytelling by my dear grandma. That evening I drowned myself into my Harry Potter book where Harry was about to kill Voldemort. Suddenly from the other room I heard someone roaring with laughter. It was my little cousin brother who was at his jolliest. As the laughter subsided I was able to hear my grandma narrating a story to him. Her voice quavered as she talked. Grandmas, I thought, are naturally blessed and have mastered the art of storytelling. One part of my brain was urging me to go saying, “Don’t let yourself into the book too much and miss these kinds of worldly pleasures”. That must had been my experienced left-brain. And the other part of my brain was telling me to refrain and continue reading. “It is a good addiction. You get lots of pleasure in reading too,” it hollered. “No doubt. Reading is a very good habit. But not at the cost of spending time with people who are close to your heart or at the expense of your chores and duties” snapped my left brain. I just closed my ears and eyes. It really took me for a while to realize that I was laughing aloud sitting next to my grandma with my arms thrown around her neck.

 

THE END.

One comment

  1. Prabha Mohan /

    Hey Samyuktha!

    Another wonderful story! I just cant believe it! you have become such a great writer of very interesting and very impressive short stories and articles! I love the humour and your use of good vocabulary! I was very amused and happy to read your story! Iam sure your mom and dad and ofcourse your grandma will be very proud of you!
    Keep it up!

    your loving aunt,
    Prabha.