Fantasy land

Relatives had come down to stay with us for the vacation and along with them came those dear little imps: my cousins. Our home was bustling with activity once again- never a silent moment. One night- yesterday that is- we were watching a movie when the lights went out- it was a power cut. The elders in family huddled together discussing family issues, titling and tattling. I somehow could not get myself to belong to the group.

Then a little voice yelled from behind, “Akka!! Tell us a story”. “Yes, akka tell us a story” they all shrieked in chorus- my cousins and two little neighbours . ‘Boy,I'm in real trouble!’ I said to myself. I wasn’t really very good at story telling and stuff. My mind went blank! Cinderella, Thumbelina, Snow white was all ruled out as the ‘often-recounted’ ones.

A flash of idea came to my rescue: story building! In this game one person starts the narrative and gets it moving; then someone else takes over. I suggested it and everyone agreed, excited.

Off I started with the privilege of being the eldest one in the ‘gang’ (pause to raise a collar). “One Saturday afternoon, there weren’t many people in the museum, when this family went around looking at it. Something wasn’t right about the place.It felt uneasy. And suddenly there was a loud “woof woof”, they all turned around and to their horror found a huge Pomeranian dog, the size of an elephant, staring down at them. There was another bone-chilling noise….” (I know, it’s total crap but you bet they liked it!! ) “Do you know what happened next?” I asked my little brother who willingly contributed his cartload of crap and so the game went on.

So with everyone in a snug circle around the pale glow of a candle, we began weaving stories: fascinating labyrinthine stories. A story that started with a haunted museum but drifted elsewhere. We let our imagination rip, striding through forests, riding wild horses, sailing across continents, to the moon, beyond the sun, past galaxies…we just let it soar, sometimes even to arrant nonsense. It was a wayward story but yeah definitely mesmerizing.

It had a special magic of its own that had remained unknown to me for so long a time. A magic that could take you back to an innocent age. In our world, we too weave stories- of gossips, of ridicules, so carelessly woven, often oblivious to what it could cause to the victims’ feelings. We jeer at others’ quirks, weigh people even without knowing them, unable to accept people around us for what they really are. But this was a different world, this circle I was sitting in, a world of open, trusting little minds.

I went on, fascinated at how imaginative these little children could get, eagerly waiting for my turn to add my touch of dramatic element into it that would often twist it enough to change the entire storyline. I learnt that few things are more enchanting for a child than to be told a story and for adults there are few things more satisfying than telling one.

Try it .Let your imagination take over,you’ll probably surprise yourself. You may stumble or reach a dead end, but it doesn’t matter. There is no one testing you, no editor waiting with a red pen, no one to sue you for misrepresentation.

When the power returned after its long blissful absence, to my surprise I found that the people around had been listening too. There I told you, it definitely had a magic of its own!!

Tonight again I will sit down with those little questing minds and weave fantasies. Forget the news on the t.v.; it will always be there with its load of unhappy information, forget the everyday things you can’t change. Tonight again I would relax into that dreamy world I once had inhabited myself.