Tag: Andhra Pradesh

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Stories

Lending a hand

By Naramsetti Umamaheswararao

From Public Domain

All the students of Seethanagaram High School stood in the playground for the morning prayer. The headmaster, along with the other teachers, was also present.

After the prayer, the headmaster addressed the students: “A new academic year began yesterday. Many new students will be joining us today. We will start lessons from tomorrow. For today, let’s spend the day playing games. Are you all ready?”

The mention of games excited the children. They enthusiastically replied, “Yes, Sir!”

“Alright! From where you are standing, try to reach the other end of the playground by hopping on one leg,” the headmaster instructed.

The students replied, “We can’t do that, Sir.”

“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t give up without trying. All of you, give it a shot,” he encouraged.

Some students stepped forward and tried to hop on one leg. A few managed to go a little distance before falling, while others gave up after a short while. The headmaster praised their efforts and asked them to return.

Next, the headmaster said, “Now, close your eyes and walk to the end of the playground.”

Just like before, the students shook their heads and said, “We can’t do that, Sir.”

“Don’t worry. We will be right behind you. No one should open their eyes or cheat,” the headmaster assured them.

Trusting his words, the students attempted the task. They walked slowly, but it was very difficult to walk with their eyes closed. They didn’t know what lay ahead—there could be stones or pits. They took each step with great fear. About three-quarters of the students gave up halfway, saying it was impossible. A few, with great difficulty, made it to the end of the playground. The headmaster praised their efforts and asked all the students to gather in the assembly hall.

Once all the teachers arrived in the assembly hall, the headmaster selected twenty students and paired them up to face each other. He tore some chits and wrote on them. Placing the chits in some of the students’ hands, he instructed them to convey the words in the torn scrap of paper to their partners using gestures. The students tried as instructed.

When asked if they understood what their partners were trying to convey, everyone said they did not.

Ravi, who had just started the tenth grade and was known for his courage, watched these games and asked, “Why did you have us do these activities, Sir? Do these games have anything to do with our studies? Walking on one leg, walking with eyes closed, and conveying messages through gestures were all very difficult. We struggled a lot, and some even fell. Why did you make us do this?”

The headmaster responded, “Ravi mentioned that walking on one leg, walking with eyes closed, and communicating through gestures were difficult. Do the rest of you agree?”

All the students nodded in agreement.

The headmaster then said, “You’re right. I agree with you. These tasks were indeed difficult. But due to the disabilities given to them by God, some people with physical impairments, like blindness or deafness, have to live their entire lives like this. Can we agree that their lives are more challenging than ours?”

The students remained silent, unable to answer. When the headmaster repeated the question, Ravi replied, “How would we know, Sir?”

“Didn’t you just experience what it feels like to be lame, blind, or deaf while playing those games? That should have given you some understanding. That’s why I asked,” the headmaster explained to Ravi, who nodded in agreement.

“Another question for all of you. If someone is in trouble, what should we do as fellow human beings?” the headmaster asked.

“We should help them,” the students replied.

“Good job! That’s the right answer,” the headmaster praised them, and the students responded loudly, “That’s right, Sir!”

The headmaster then asked, “We shouldn’t make fun of people like that, right?”

“No, Sir,” the students replied in unison.

At that moment, the headmaster called an attendant and had three students brought before the assembly.One student walked with the help of a stick. Another was visually impaired, and the third student’s disability was not visible but had a hearing impairment.

The headmaster showed these three students to the others and said, “These students joined our school yesterday. Two of their disabilities are visible, and the third has a hearing problem. They are already suffering from these disabilities. We should show compassion and offer our help to them. I have seen with my own eyes some students mocking and making them cry. That’s why I made you experience how difficult life is for those with such impairments through these games. These three students need your support and assistance. Not just these three, but anyone with disabilities, wherever they may be, should be helped. We should give them the assurance that we are here for them and give them moral support.”

The students responded loudly, “Yes Sir!”

At that moment, three students stood up and walked to the front of the assembly.

They said, “Sir, we were the ones who mocked them yesterday. We behaved wrongly because we didn’t understand their difficulties. Please forgive us.”

The headmaster advised them to help those in need and behave well in the future, and then he dismissed all the students to their classrooms.

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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Stories

The Appropriate Punishments

By Naramsetti Umamaheswararao

From Public Domain

In a small forest next to Ramapuram, there lived a crow and a monkey who were friends. They would help each other when needed, but they were mischievous by nature and often looked for opportunities to harass others. Over time, they befriended a cunning jackal, and the three would team up to trouble travelers passing through.

The residents of Ramapuram and nearby villages had to cross this small forest to reach the town. Whenever a traveler passed through the forest with a bag in hand, the monkey would jump from the tree and snatch the bag, hoping to find food inside. It would climb up a tree, rummage through the contents, and if there was anything edible, it would keep it, tossing the rest to the ground. The monkey would then mock the traveler, showing its teeth and laughing at their distress. Once the traveler left, the monkey would share the food with its friends.

The crow, on the other hand, would swoop down and peck at the travelers’ heads with its beak or legs, causing them to flinch. If anyone rested under a tree, the crow would defecate on them and then hide in the branches, laughing at their misery.

The jackal was skilled at imitating the roar of a tiger. It would hide behind a tree and roar like a tiger, scaring the travelers who would then run away in fear, much to the jackal’s delight.

One day, a farmer named Rama from the neighbouring village of Shantipuram was passing through the forest. He was on his way to buy jewelry for his daughter’s wedding, carrying money in his bag. The monkey, mistaking the bag for food, leaped in front of Rama and snatched the bag, quickly climbing a tree. “Oh no, my bag!” cried Rama as he ran after the monkey. But the monkey, sitting on a branch, began searching through the bag. Finding nothing to eat, it became angry and tore the money into pieces, throwing them down.

Seeing this, Rama was filled with both sadness and anger. He spotted a dry branch on the ground and thought of using it to threaten the monkey. But before he could act, the crow swooped down and pecked him on the head. Meanwhile, the jackal, hiding behind a tree, roared like a tiger. Terrified, Rama ran away from the forest.

When he reached his village, Rama told the villagers what had happened. The villagers felt sorry for him and promised to help with his daughter’s wedding expenses.

A young man in the village suggested, “I know a sorcerer. Let’s tell him about this and put an end to these troubles.” So they took Rama to the sorcerer.

After hearing the story, the sorcerer said, “I will secretly observe what’s happening in the forest and punish the culprits.” He kept his promise and observed the mischief of the crow, monkey, and jackal for a few days to understand their behavior completely. Then, he devised a plan and set out for the forest.

When the monkey saw the sorcerer coming with a bag in hand, it followed its usual habit and jumped down to snatch the bag. But the moment its hand touched the bag, it stuck to it. No matter how hard the monkey tried, it couldn’t free itself. The sorcerer had applied strong glue to the bag beforehand, knowing this would happen. The monkey screeched in fear.

Hearing the monkey’s cries, the crow flew down intending to peck the sorcerer. But the sorcerer quickly threw a net over the crow, trapping it.

Meanwhile, the jackal, watching the humiliation of its friends from a distance, tried to roar like a tiger again. It went behind a tree to hide, but the sorcerer’s disciple, who had been waiting there, threw another net over the jackal, capturing it.

Realising that the sorcerer was not an ordinary traveler, the animals pleaded, “Oh, please forgive us. We won’t trouble anyone anymore.”

The sorcerer laughed and asked, “When you were troubling the travelers, where was your sense of right and wrong? Now that you’re in trouble, you suddenly confess and promise to end your mischief? How can you chnge so quickly?”

They replied, “We never expected someone like you would come. Please let us go. We promise to live without bothering anyone.”

The sorcerer, however, was unmoved. “There’s no question of letting you go. I will hand you over to the zoo so that travelers passing through this forest won’t be troubled anymore.”

The animals pleaded once again, “We’ve learned our lesson. Please let us go.”

Even the sorcerer’s disciple requested, “Please forgive them and let them go.”

But the sorcerer responded, “Don’t show mercy on these creatures. The monkey tore up Ramayya’s money. I’ll release the crow, and if it ever causes trouble again, I’ll capture it and starve it to death in a cage. I’ll train the monkey to perform tricks and take it with us for shows. As for the jackal, I’ll hand it over to the zoo.”

And the sorcerer did exactly as he said. He disciplined the three of them and put an end to their mischief. From that day on, travelers passing through the forest were no longer troubled by the crow, monkey, or jackal.

From Public Domain

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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Categories
Stories

Naughty Ravi

By Naramsetti Umamaheswararao

Ravi, a fourth-grade boy, could never sit still. His hands were always busy with some mischief. Whenever he found something at home, he would play with it, often damaging valuable items. Despite his mother’s occasional scoldings, Ravi never stopped his antics or playing around.

One morning, while playing with a ball inside the house, Ravi threw it at the television in the hall. The screen cracked, and his furious mother couldn’t hold back her anger. She hit him, but before she could deliver more blows, Ravi’s father intervened, rescuing the boy.

Through tears, Ravi said, “I didn’t mean to, Dad! I promise I’ll never play with a ball inside the house again.” His father calmed him down and persuaded his mother to forgive him.

But Ravi’s mischief didn’t end there. Another day, he saw a bug on the glass-top tea table in the hall. Picking up a cricket bat, he swung at the bug, but it flew away unharmed. Unfortunately, the table shattered under the force of his swing. The sound of breaking glass brought his parents running. They found Ravi holding the bat, standing next to the broken table.

Afraid of another scolding, Ravi glanced nervously at his mother. Before she could say anything, his father stepped in and asked, “Didn’t you promise not to play inside the house? What happened now?”

“I only used the bat to hit a big bug on the table, Dad. It got away,” Ravi explained, gesturing with his hands. His father patiently advised him, “Alright, but remember, no more damaging things at home.” Ravi’s mother, however, remained silent, visibly upset.

Another day, Ravi wanted a storybook from the shelf. Climbing onto a chair to reach it, he accidentally knocked down several books and other items. Hearing the commotion, his mother rushed in to find books and belongings scattered on the floor.

Frustrated, she scolded, “How many times have I told you to be careful? You’re always breaking or dropping something! Now clean this mess up!” Ravi tried to explain that the other items fell when he pulled out one book, but his mother refused to listen. Feeling deeply hurt, Ravi decided to leave the house for a while.

“If I go out, Mom will worry and search for me. She might even cry. That would make her stop scolding me,” he thought.

Ravi walked to the nearby park. Sitting amidst the greenery, he watched people, children playing in the distance, and ducklings swimming in a pond. Slowly, his irritation and sadness faded.

Just then, he noticed a baby bird falling from a nest in a nearby tree. The bird chirped loudly in fear. Ravi quickly ran to the tree and caught the bird in his hands before it could hit the ground. Gently stroking its wings, he calmed the frightened bird.

From Public Domain

Moments later, the mother bird flew down, circling Ravi and chirping anxiously. The baby bird flapped its wings joyfully at the sight of its mother. Ravi placed the baby bird carefully back near its nest. The mother bird covered it lovingly with her wings.

“The mother bird came back to protect her baby. Maybe my mom is already worried about me. I should go home and let her know I’m safe,” Ravi thought.

Ravi rushed back home. The moment his mother saw him, she smiled and said, “Where were you? I made some payasam for you. Come and eat.” Ravi sat down and narrated everything that had happened in the park.

Hearing his story, his mother’s face lit up with pride. She kissed his cheek and said, “You’re my precious little gem. You’re mischievous at home, but outside, you’re so helpful and kind.”

Ravi realised, “Mom scolds me when I do wrong and praises me when I do good. She truly loves me. I should never make her sad or upset again.” From that day on, Ravi started listening to his mother and became more careful both at home and outside.

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Editorial

“We are the World”

Art by Sophia P, Cypress
Art by Hugo A, Quezon City
From Public Domain

In 1985, famous artistes, many of whom are no longer with us, collaborated on the song, We are the World, to raise funds to feed children during the Ethiopian famine (1983-85). The song was performed together by Michael Jackson, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, Paul Simon, Tina Turner, Dionne Warwick, Lionel Richie, Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen.  The producer, Julia Nottingham, said: “It’s a celebration of the power of creativity and the power of collective humanity.” The famine was attributed to ‘war and drought’.

Over the last few years, we have multiple wars creating hunger and drought caused by disruptions. Yet, the world watches and the atrocities continue to hurt common people, the majority who just want to live and let live, accept and act believing in the stories created by centuries of civilisation. As Yuval Noah Harari points out in a book written long before the current maladies set in, Homo Deus (2015), “…the stories are just tools. They should not become our goals or our yardsticks. When we forget that they are mere fiction, we lose touch with reality. Then we begin entire wars ‘to make a lot of money for the corporation’ or ‘to protect the national interest’. Corporations, money and nations exist only in our imagination. We invented them to serve us; why do we find ourselves sacrificing our lives in their service?”

What Harari says had been said almost ninety years ago by a voice from another region, by a man who suffered but wrote beautiful poetry, Jibanananda Das… and here are his verses —

“The stories stored in my soul will eventually fade. New ones—
New festivals—will replace the old — in life’s honey-tinged slight.”

— Jibananda Das, from ‘Ghumiye Poribe Aami’ (I’ll fall asleep), 1934, translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

We carry the poem in this issue translated by Professor Fakrul Alam, lines that makes one dream of a better future. These ideas resonate in modern Balochi poet Ali Jan Dad’s ‘Roll Up Not the Mat’ brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch. Korean poet Ihlwha Choi’s translation takes us to longing filled with nostalgic hope while Tagore’s ‘Probhat’ (Dawn) gives a glimpse of a younger multi-faceted visionary dwell on the wonders of a perfect morning imbibing a sense of harmony with nature.

“I feel blessed for this sky, so luminous. 
I feel blessed to be in love with the world.”

--‘Probhat’ (Dawn) by Tagore, 1897, translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty

Starting a new year on notes of hope, of finding new dreams seems to be a way forward for humanity does need to evolve out of self-imposed boundaries and darknesses and move towards a new future with narratives and stories that should outlive the present, outlive the devastating impact of climate change and wars by swapping our old narratives for ones that will help us harmonise with the wonders we see around us… wonders created by non-human hands or nature.

We start this year with questions raised on the current world by many of our contributors. Professor Alam in his essay makes us wonder about the present as he cogitates during his morning walks. Niaz Zaman writes to us about a change maker who questioned and altered her part of the world almost a century ago, Begum Roquiah. Can we still make such changes in mindsets as did Roquiah? And yet again, Ratnottama Sengupta pays homage to a great artiste, filmmaker Shyam Benegal, who left us in December 2024 just after he touched 90. Other non-fictions include musings by Nusrat Jan Esa on human nature contextualising it with Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667); Farouk Gulsara’s account of a fire in Sri Lanka where he was visiting and Suzanne Kamata’s column from Japan on the latest Japanese Literary Festival in the Fukushimaya prefecture, the place where there was a nuclear blast in 2011. What is amazing is the way they have restored the prefecture in such a short time. Their capacity to bounce back is exemplary! Devraj Singh Kalsi shares a tongue-in-cheek musing about the compatibility of banks and writers.

Rhys Hughes’ poem based on the photograph of a sign is tongue-in- cheek too. But this time we also have an unusual exploration of horror with wry humour in his column. Michael Burch shares a lovely poem about a hill that was planted by his grandfather and is now claimed as state property… Afsar Mohammad explores hunger in his fasting poems and Aman Alam gives heart rending verses on joblessness. Poems by Kirpal Singh contextualise Shakespearian lore to modern suffering. We have more poems by Kiriti Sengupta, Michelle Hillman, Jenny Middleton, G Javaid Rasool, Stephen Druce, John Grey, George Freek and many others — all exploring multiple facets of life. We also have a conversation with Kiriti Sengupta on how he turned to poetry from dentistry!

Exploring more of life around us are stories by Sohana Manzoor set in an expat gathering; by Priyatham Swamy about a migrant woman from Nepal and by Naramsetti Umamaheswararao set against rural Andhra Pradesh. While Ahmad Rayees gives a poignant, touching story set in a Kashmiri orphanage, Paul Mirabile reflects on the resilience of a child in a distant Greek island. Mirabile’s stories are often a throwback to earlier times.

In this issue, our book excerpts explore a writer of yore too, one that lived almost a hundred years ago, S. Eardley-Wilmot (1852-1929), a conservationist and one who captures the majesty of nature, the awe and the wonder like Tagore or Jibanananda with his book, The Life of an Elephant. The other book takes us to contemporary Urdu writers but in Kolkata —Contemporary Urdu Stories from Kolkata, translated by Shams Afif Siddiqi and edited by Shams Afif Siddiqi and Fuzail Asar Siddiqi. A set of translated stories of the well-known Bengali writer, Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay by Hiranmoy Lahiri, brought out in a book called Kaleidoscope of Life: Select Short Stories has been reviewed by Somdatta Mandal. Malashri Lal has discussed Basudhara Roy’s A Blur of a Woman. Roy herself has explored Afsar Mohammad’s Fasting Hymns. Bhaskar Parichha has taken us to Sri Lanka with a discussion on a book on Sri Lanka, Return to Sri Lanka: Travels in a Paradoxical Island by an academic located in Singapore, Razeen Sally.

Bringing together varied voices from across the world and ages, one notices recurring themes raising concerns for human welfare and for the need to conserve our planet. To gain agency, it is necessary to have many voices rise in a paean to humanity and the natural world as they have in this start of the year issue.  

I would like to thank all those who made this issue possible, our team and the contributors. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I cannot stop feeling grateful to Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork too, art that blends in hope into the pages of Borderless Journal. As all our content has not been mentioned here, I invite you to pause by our content’s page to explore more of our exciting fare. Huge thanks to all readers for you make our journey worthwhile.

I would hope we can look forward to this year as being one that will have changes for the better for all humanity and the Earth… so that we still have our home a hundred years from now, even if it looks different.

Wish you a year filled with new dreams.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

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Categories
Stories

Anand’s Wisdom

By Naramsetti Umamaheswararao

From Public Domain

In the town of Kalyanapuram, there lived a wealthy man named Raghav. He had a daughter of marriageable age and was seeking a suitable groom for her.

Once, while Raghav was traveling to a nearby village called Bangaru Palem to explore a possible marriage alliance, he met Anand on the way. Anand introduced himself, saying he was from Machavaram village, well-educated, settled in business, and unmarried.

Raghav thought that Anand might make a good son-in-law, but he decided to test his intelligence and character before making a decision.

As they were traveling, the heat of the sun intensified, and Raghav felt thirsty. He asked a passerby, “Is there a well or a pond nearby?” The man pointed to a pond and said, “You can quench your thirst at that pond.”

Anand asked the man, “Is the pond water poisonous or life-giving?” The man replied, “I don’t know.” Raghav went ahead and drank the water from the pond. He thought to himself, “What a strange question Anand asked! Is he a fool?”

After some distance, two more travelers joined them. One was a farmer, and the other was a moneylender. The farmer was going to a neighbouring village to buy cattle, and the moneylender was on his way to collect old debts.

Anand asked the farmer, “Are you a provider of food or just greedy?” The farmer remained silent, unsure of how to respond. Then, Anand turned to the moneylender and asked, “Do you care for people’s well-being or just focus on squeezing them dry?” The moneylender also remained silent. Raghav now firmly believed Anand was indeed a madman and thought, “There’s no way I can accept him as my son-in-law.”

Even though Raghav continued walking with Anand, he kept his distance, disliking the way Anand spoke. The other two travelers also found Anand’s words odd and wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

A little further into the journey, it was noon, and the group felt hungry. They sat under a tree, unpacked their food, and began to eat. But Anand’s attention was drawn to a nearby bush. “It’s not safe to sit here. Let’s move away immediately,” Anand warned.

The other three ignored him and said, “We will eat here. If you don’t like it, go wherever you wish.” But Anand insisted, “I’m saying this for your safety. I sense a dangerous snake nearby. If we don’t leave quickly, it could be a threat.”

Raghav mocked him, “Did the snake come and tell you this in a dream? Or do you have some magical powers?”

Anand pointed to a snake’s skin near the bush and said, “Look at that freshly shed snakeskin. It’s about fourteen feet long and thick, which indicates the size of the snake. It must be nearby. I’m warning you based on this evidence.”

As soon as Anand finished speaking, the farmer screamed, “Look! There it is! The snake is coming toward us, just as Anand said.” In no time, all four ran far away to a safe place and had their meal.

Raghav ’s opinion about Anand began to change. He realised Anand wasn’t mad after all. However, Raghav was still curious why Anand had asked those strange questions earlier.

He asked Anand, “You seem to be a wise man. Why did you ask if the pond water was life-giving or poisonous?”

Anand replied, “Even if the water looks clean, it could be filled with dirt or dangerous creatures like crocodiles, which would make it deadly. On the other hand, water from a safe, clean source sustains life, making it like nectar. That’s why I asked.”

Next, Raghav asked, “Why did you ask the farmer if he was a provider of food or just greedy?”

Anand explained, “A farmer who grows food crops feeds others, so, he’s a provider of food. But if he only grows cash crops for profit, he is driven by greed. That’s why I asked.”

Hearing this, the farmer proudly declared, “I am certainly a provider of food!”

Then Raghav asked, “What was the meaning behind your question to the moneylender—whether he cared for people or just squeezed them dry?”

Anand replied, “There are two kinds of moneylenders. Those who consider the financial situation of the borrower and give them time to repay with understanding — they care for people. But those who are ruthless and demand repayment no matter what, are only focused on taking money and are like a burden on people’s backs. That’s why I asked.”

The moneylender, realising the wisdom in Anand’s words, said, “I am definitely the kind who cares for people!”

With all his doubts cleared, Raghav invited Anand to his home and expressed his desire to make him his son-in-law.

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Categories
Stories

Significance

By  Naramsetti  Umamaheswararao

From Public Domain

Once, while a bird was searching for food, it spotted a  berry under a banyan tree. As the bird grabbed the berry with its beak and flew, it slipped and fell. The place where the berry landed was a field next to a village. On the same day the berry fell, a strong storm brought rain, causing the soil to cover the berry.

Two days later, the berry rotted, and the seeds inside began to talk to each other.

One seed happily said, “We are alive thanks to our luck! Otherwise, we would have been digested in the bird’s stomach within a week.”

Another seed replied, “That’s true. If we had gone into the bird’s stomach, we would have died. We wouldn’t even have had the chance to talk like this.” The other seeds nodded in agreement.

After two more days, one seed sprouted. The sprouting seed excitedly jumped and said, “Look, everyone! I’ve sprouted!”

Seeing the sprout, the other seeds warned, “Pull that sprout back! If you grow, you will change your form and rise above the ground. You will face many hardships while growing. Sometimes, humans might uproot you. Other times, animals might trample or eat you. You must overcome all this to grow into a plant. If you grow, you need sufficient water. If you don’t get enough water, you will wither and die. You cannot endure all these hardships, so it’s better to remain as we are and enjoy our time together.”

The sprouting seed listened but did not respond or pull back its sprout. After a few days, the banyan plant emerged from the soil and began to grow. Its stem grew straight, branches spread out, and many leaves sprouted. Years passed, and it grew into a large tree.

To escape the heat, farmers and travelers rested in the shade of the banyan tree. Animals found shelter beneath it during the night and when it rained. Birds built nests on its branches. The banyan tree provided refuge to many, making the area lively.

Occasionally, indigenous doctors came to the banyan tree to collect its bark, leaves, and buds for medicinal use. Children played in the field, swinging joyfully on swings hung on the banyan tree. The banyan tree felt happy.

Many years went by. One day, a terrifying storm struck. Strong winds blew, and it rained heavily. Many trees were uprooted by the storm, and the banyan tree was among them. The people were deeply saddened by the fall of the banyan tree. The birds and animals living in its branches mourned silently.

After a few days, when the greenery of the banyan tree faded, villagers used axes to cut its branches and trunk for firewood. Everyone who carried the wood remarked, “It was useful even after it died.”

Meanwhile, the remaining seeds in the ground, which had stayed behind selfishly, felt happy hearing their sibling’s praises but were also ashamed. One seed said, “We all made a grave mistake. We remained as we were and couldn’t help anyone. We didn’t do anything worthy of remembrance. Every life should have significance, but our life has been wasted. Although we had a great opportunity to be born, we squandered it. Our sibling, however, did something good. Even in death, it lives on in the hearts and homes of people. Our sibling’s legacy uncovered the true significance of life.”

Hearing this, another banyan seed replied, “Some people also live cowardly lives. They continue to make the same mistake we did. They waste their lives, not realising that a life dedicated to helping others brings true satisfaction. If we understand that helping others leads to everlasting fame and support one another, it would be much better.”

The banyan seeds lamented, “We cannot bring back what has passed, so this is all we have in this life.”

Banyan Berries: Fom Public Domain

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Chintu’s Big Heart

By  Naramsetti Umamaheswararao

Chintu, a fifth-grader, was known for his intelligence beyond his years. Every day, he walked a mile to school by himself. When his parents offered to accompany him, he confidently replied, “I can go by myself. I’m grown up now.” Since their village, Seethanagaram, was a small town, there wasn’t much fear of children being abducted or harmed, so his parents didn’t object.

One day, Chintu woke up early and set out for school earlier than usual. He packed a small spade, a water bottle, and his books into his schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder.

His mother, who had been observing him, asked, “Why are you leaving so early? There’s still time for school.”

“I have some work, mother. I’ll tell you when I come back,” Chintu replied.

On his way to school, Chintu spotted some discarded mango seeds. He carefully picked out the good ones and walked a little further from the road. Using his small spade, he dug holes and buried the seeds. Then, he poured some water from his bottle over them.

As Chintu was about to leave, an old beggar woman sitting under a nearby tree called out, “Come here, boy.”

Chintu approached her and greeted her politely.

“I saw you planting those seeds. That’s a good deed. But who will water them every day?” she asked.

“I pass this way to school every day. I will water them,” Chintu replied.

While talking to the old woman, Chintu noticed she looked weak and was coughing frequently. Concerned, he asked, “Do you have a fever? Have you eaten anything?”

“I don’t have the strength to move. I haven’t gone anywhere and haven’t eaten anything either,” the old woman replied.

“Oh no, that’s not good,” said Chintu, opening his lunch box and offering her some food.

The old woman hesitated. “You’ll be hungry in school. Don’t worry about me, son. I’m used to this.”

“Don’t worry about me. My friends will share their food with me,” Chintu reassured her. He then gave her water to drink and asked some passersby to help take her to the hospital before heading to school.

After school, on his way back home, Chintu saw a small puppy being chased by a big dog. The puppy, terrified, ran in search of shelter, letting out pitiful cries. It squeezed through the gate of a house, but the house dog barked at it, causing it to retreat. The puppy then ran into an alley, where a pig scared it further. Not knowing what to do, the puppy let out a helpless whimper.

Seeing the puppy in distress, Chintu took out his spade and used it to chase away the big dog. He picked up the trembling puppy and comforted it, saying, “Don’t be scared. I chased it away.”

Just then, a woman from the house across the street came outside and noticed the puppy in Chintu’s arms. “Its mother died in an accident while crossing the road. You can take it home if you want to raise it,” she said.

Without a second thought, Chintu took the puppy home.

When Chintu’s mother saw him with the puppy, she frowned. “Why did you bring a puppy home? It will make a mess everywhere. Leave it where you found it.”

“Poor thing… its mother died, and a big dog and a pig were chasing it. It was so frightened. Let’s take care of it for a while. We can let it go later. First, give it some food and milk,” Chintu pleaded.

“You seem to be taking on more responsibilities than necessary. You should be focusing on school, not trying to act like a grown-up,” his mother scolded.

“But if everyone thought that way, who would help those in need? Grown-ups can’t always do everything, and if kids aren’t allowed to help either, then who will assist those in trouble? Remember when you asked me this morning where I was going early? Let me explain now. I heard my teacher say that many people throw away mango seeds after eating the fruit. He said they shouldn’t go to waste. So, I buried some seeds by the roadside, and I’ll water them every day. There was an old woman with a fever under a tree. I gave her my lunch, and she was so happy. She blessed me,” Chintu said, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Is that so? You did a good thing. Keep helping others whenever you can. I’ll get some food for the puppy. Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of it for a while and then find it a good home,” his mother said kindly.

“Let’s do that. I didn’t tell you this morning because I thought you might scold me. But now I know you’re kind-hearted and will understand. From now on, I’ll tell you everything I plan to do,” Chintu promised.

“You’re my precious child,” his mother said, hugging him lovingly.

From Public Domain

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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The Mango Thief

By Naramsetti Umamaheswara Rao

Ricky was a boy known for his mischievous nature. Though he was in the eighth grade, he had the sharpness and boldness of someone older. Ricky rarely attended school, preferring instead to roam around the fields beside the road, cutting sugarcane and plucking groundnuts, causing damage to the crops.

In his class, there was a bright and studious boy named Anand. Ricky thought it would be advantageous to befriend Anand to get his notes. The next day, Ricky brought some guavas he had stolen and offered them to Anand, saying, “These are from our orchard. They’re very sweet; take them.” Although Anand initially refused, Ricky insisted and placed the fruits in his hands, and Anand, not wanting to seem rude, reluctantly accepted them.

Over the following days, Ricky brought sugarcane and groundnuts, further solidifying their friendship. Ricky began inviting Anand to accompany him when he went out, and Anand, hesitant to refuse, would often join him. Their classmates noticed this and warned Anand, saying, “Don’t hang out with him. Being with him could get you into trouble.”

But Anand dismissed their concerns, thinking, “I’m a good person, so nothing bad will happen to me. Maybe Ricky will change for the better.”

One day after school, as they were walking home, Ricky suggested they enter a mango orchard along the way. Anand hesitated, knowing it was wrong, but Ricky was persistent. Ignoring Anand’s reluctance, Ricky said, “If you’re so scared, stay here. I’ll go in alone.” Ricky then climbed over the fence, entered the orchard and began plucking ripe mangoes, stuffing them into his school bag.

What Ricky didn’t know was that the orchard’s caretaker had been keeping a close watch. He was already angry about frequent thefts and was determined to catch the thief red-handed. Seeing Ricky pluck the mangoes, the caretaker approached the tree with a stick in hand and shouted, “Hey, you little thief! Come down! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Ricky, momentarily startled, quickly regained his composure. He was used to such situations. “What can you do?” Ricky challenged, “You’re all alone, and there are two of us. We could easily overpower you, and no one would know.”

The caretaker, growing more furious, demanded, “Where’s the other one?”

Ricky pointed towards Anand, who was outside the fence, and said, “He’s waiting over there, keeping an eye out for me.” The caretaker, not seeing clearly, took a couple of steps to get a better view and thought he spotted someone. But when he turned back to the tree, Ricky had already jumped down and escaped.

The caretaker, enraged, thought, “Not only does this kid steal, but he also dares to threaten me?” He chased after Ricky but couldn’t catch him. Frustrated, he decided to catch the other boy instead, thinking it would lead him to Ricky later.

Ricky saw the caretaker running towards Anand but chose not to warn him.

Anand, seeing the caretaker approaching, remained calm, thinking, “Why should I be afraid? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

But as soon as the caretaker reached him, he grabbed Anand’s hair and began hitting him on the back. “Why are you hitting me? What have I done? I didn’t even enter your orchard,” Anand cried.

The caretaker slapped him twice and said, “You dare ask what you did? No shame? You came here to steal, sent your friend inside, and stayed outside to keep watch? Come with me, I’ll tie you to the tree. You two have been stealing my mangoes every day. I won’t release you until my boss arrives,” he said, dragging Anand inside the orchard.

Despite Anand’s protests and pleas of innocence, the caretaker refused to listen and tied him to a tree.

Passersby noticed Anand tied to the tree and, shocked by the sight, informed his parents. They came and freed him, explaining the situation to the villagers. Anand insisted that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

The villagers scolded him, saying, “Your mistake was befriending a bad boy. What else did you expect?”

Regretful, Anand lamented, “Despite my friends’ warnings, I knowingly continued my friendship with Ricky. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t make this mistake again.”

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Stories

Imitation

By Naramsetti Uma Maheswara Rao

Public Domain

“Mom, if you stick this on your head, your splitting head will heal. Here, take it and stick it on,” said four-year-old Ravi, handing over a roll of round plaster.

“Who told you to stick this for a headache?” Rajani asked in surprise, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Earlier, you told the neighbour aunty that your head was splitting. That’s why I brought it. Whenever something in the house tears, Dad sticks it with this. You should stick it on your head so it doesn’t split,” Ravi replied innocently.

Rajani laughed at her son’s sweet words. As a festival was on in the village, Rajani had invited her parents, siblings, and their families to her home. With everyone staying at her house, her daily chores had increased. Even though she woke up at dawn to start working, she couldn’t finish everything. Just then, the neighbour had come asking for a loan of some sesame oil.

“No matter how much I do, the work never ends. My hands are hurting, and my head is splitting,” Rajani had told the neighbour.

Ravi heard these words, and to help his mom, he brought the plaster his dad used to stick his brother’s torn books. He told his mother to stick it on her head to ease her headache. Now, Rajani understood the situation and laughed at her son’s cleverness.

“Why are you laughing? Won’t the headache go away if you stick this?” Ravi asked innocently again.

“You don’t stick plaster for a splitting head. A splitting head means I have a headache. If I apply Amrutanjan[1], it will go away,” Rajani explained in a way he could understand.

Rajani shared the incident with the rest of the family, and they all had a good laugh. 

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That afternoon, the family sat down for lunch. Rajani served a curry made with chicken eggs to everyone.

“What is this?” Ravi asked. Rajani replied that it was a chicken egg.

“I want a donkey egg,” he said.

At first, Rajani didn’t understand what he meant. Everyone else also looked at Ravi with interest.

“There’s no such thing as a donkey egg. There are chicken eggs and duck eggs,” his grandmother tried to explain to Ravi.

“No, there is. I want that one,” Ravi insisted, starting to cry. No matter how much they tried to explain, he didn’t stop crying.

Ravi’s father suspected that someone must have mentioned it, as kids don’t come up with these things on their own. He took Ravi close and gently asked, “Who told you about a donkey egg? Tell me, and I’ll ask them to bring it for you.”

Hearing this, Ravi’s face lit up, and he pointed to his grandfather.

Everyone’s attention turned to the grandfather. “Did you tell him about it? Is there such a thing as a donkey egg?” everyone questioned him.

“Hold on! Why would I tell him that? Give me a moment to think,” the grandfather replied, trying to recall the incident. After some thinking, he remembered something.

That morning, one of the workers had done a job incorrectly, and in anger, the grandfather had said, “Is this how you do it? This is not a donkey egg!” Ravi, who was sitting on his grandfather’s lap at that time, heard these words. He had asked what a donkey egg was, but his grandfather, in his irritation, didn’t respond.

After learning the real story from the grandfather, the rest of the family laughed. Ravi’s father lovingly explained to Ravi that there’s no such thing as a donkey egg and that it was just an expression his grandfather used. It took some convincing, but eventually, Ravi understood.

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Ravi also had an elder brother named Ramu, who was eight years old. Whenever Ramu came home from school, he and Ravi would fight over something or the other.

One day, as soon as they returned from school, they fought over the TV remote, leaving Rajani, already exhausted from housework, feeling more frustrated.

“I told you to change out of your school uniforms and wash your hands and feet when you come home. I’ve kept snacks on the table. Instead of eating, why are you fighting? Behave, or I’ll smack you with a hot spatula,” Rajani said.

“Mom, I want that. Don’t give it to my brother. Spank me now,” Ravi cried, running to his mom.

“What did you understand? Do you know what a spank is?” Rajani asked, calming down.

“Oh, I know. It’s a hot pancake. I’m hungry. Please spank me quickly,” Ravi said innocently. Hearing his sweet words, Rajani’s frustration disappeared, and she laughed wholeheartedly.

She kissed Ravi on his cheek and said, “Wait. I’ll get you the snacks,” and ran to the kitchen.

Rajani realised, “We shouldn’t use such words in front of children. They can misunderstand and repeat them in front of others, causing embarrassment.” From that day on, she learned to be cautious with her words around Ravi.

[1] Balm for healing headache

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has written more than a thousand stories, songs, and novels for children over 42 years. he has published 32 books. His novel, Anandalokam, received the Central Sahitya Akademi Award for children’s literature. He has received numerous awards and honours, including the Andhra Pradesh Government’s Distinguished Telugu Language Award and the Pratibha Award from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University. He established the Naramshetty Children’s Literature Foundation and has been actively promoting children’s literature as its president.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Belacan

Migrant stories of yore from Malaysia by Farouk Gulsara

“There she goes again,” thought Saraswati as she cut vegetables she had never seen in her native country. “Here goes Ah Soh cooking her stinky dish again.”

Ah Soh with Nand Lal, Sarawswati’s son.(Photo taken circa the early 2000s).Courtesy: Farouk Gulsara

Saraswati, Ah Soh and the rest of the pack are people commonly called fresh off the boat. They hail from various parts of China and India. 

The loud beating of a metal ladle against a frying pan, accompanied by the shrilling Chinese opera over the radio and her shrieking at her children, need no guessing whose kitchen ‘aroma’ is coming from. Everyone knows Ah Soh is frying belacan, a fermented Malay shrimp paste. 

A house in the New Village (Photo taken circa the early 2000s). Courtesy: Farouk Gulsara

Ah Soh is Saraswati’s immediate neighbour in a New Village in Ipoh. Ah Soh, by default, is the self-appointed leader of the pack. Since she is one of the oldest occupants of New Village, she leads the group of housewives, all living along the same row of single-story wooden houses. These houses were the brainchild of the British when they wanted to keep the communist at bay in the 1950s. More than ten years into its inception, the houses are still strong and are a catch for many newcomers to Malaya.

Ah Soh and her husband, Ah Leong, hail from Canton, China. Escaping poverty and famine, Ah Leong scrapped the bottom of the barrel to buy himself a one-way ticket to Singapore in the early 1950s, then an up-and-coming international port, to try his luck. 

After trying a few odd jobs here and there, Ah Leong heard of an opening in newly opened tin mines in Ipoh. He made a dash for it and found Ipoh and the work he liked. Soon, he saved enough cash and paid an agent to bring over the newly married wife that he left behind in China. Ah Leong, Ah Soh and later, their two young daughters develop roots in the New Village. 

Life was no bed of roses for Saraswati either. Losing most of her family members to famine, a 13-year-old Saraswati was bundled off to a distant relative’s house in Bihar. Saraswati is pretty sure she was sold off to work as a maid, as she scrubbed and cleaned from dawn to dusk.

Lady Luck manifested most peculiarly. Saraswati was labelled bad luck when many mishaps hit her new family soon after joining them. One of the kids died of diarrhoea, and a big branch of a peepal tree growing in the compound fell on the house, destroying the roof. So, when the family heard of an elderly widower looking for a suitable bride, Saraswati was bundled off yet again. 

Hence, Saraswati’s next phase of life started with her boarding a ship, S Rajula, from Calcutta to Penang, Malaya. She spent an entire month suffering from motion sickness, not only from the ship’s motion but by the various smells of people and their cooking. Starting life as a complete vegetarian, by the time she arrived in Malaya, after overexposure to a plethora of aromas and sights, she had garnered enough courage to taste various types of meat. 

So, Ah Soh’s pungent belacan was tolerable to Saraswati’s smell buds, even though she hails from the Hindi heartland where, by design, everybody in her community was vegetarian.

Saraswati’s husband, Lal, had his own tale of melancholy. After losing his family to famine, he became an orphan and a guardian to his 12-year-old sister. With much difficulty, he somehow, doing odd jobs, managed to sustain his little family to adulthood. He was in the marriage market after getting his little sister happily married off. Unfortunately, three months into his marriage, the young bride succumbed to tuberculosis, then a deadly death sentence to anyone. Even the President of Pakistan had died of TB.

Nursing a heartbreak, he heard the news that some people he knew were going to try their luck in Malaya. The talk around town was that Malaya, the land of milk and honey, was the darling was the Empire and had great job opportunities. So that is how he landed in Malaya. 

Again, after doing whatever work that came by, he landed in a more secure job washing the British Army’s dirty laundry in a camp in Ipoh. Cleaning, starching and ironing kept him busy, but he was happy for the first time. With money in his pocket and regular meals to look for, he ventured out for humble accommodation. That is how this New Village house came about.

He returned to his hometown in Bihar, India and got a bride for himself. So, here he is, with his second wife, Saraswati, and two young boys. 

The New Village is a melting potpourri of people escaping from famine and depravity. If in the 1950s, this place protected the country from communist threat, in the 1960s, it was a pillar of hope for displaced people to start life anew.

Ah Soh had her kind, who hailed from China, and Saraswati had hers hail from various parts of India. It is incredible that despite the skirmishes between the two countries, they were bosom buddies here. These economic immigrants soldiered on, straddled in unfamiliar circumstances, struggling towards an uncertain future with zest in their chests and youth in their limbs. They go on to build their camaraderie, work, mingle, and live in harmony. Graduating from convenient sign language, they have now mastered the art of communication. Like how a cat would communicate with a dog in an adverse situation, such as absconding from the animal catcher, they cling to each other desperately as they go on with life. 

Saraswati’s new home gave them, the newcomers, a simple language that contained many Chinese and Indian words to use. Language or no language, they were still able to communicate and fulfil each other’s needs. If one person from one part of China or India could not connect with a fellow compatriot, here they had a motley crew of economic migrants from these countries speaking, eating and looking out for each other. 

Lal’s contract workers took him to various towns and kept him away from the family for months. An illiterate Saraswati with only street smartness skills would go on to manage the children and household on her own. With the convoy of housewives from New Village, Saraswati would do her marketing and grocery. Pointing and making gesticulating would constitute making an order, and hawkers were honest enough to return correct change. Slowly, she began to develop a liking for Chinese food. 

Monthly grocery was by credit, and things were obtained from Ah Meng’s sundry shop, packed to the brim with everything under the sun. Lal would pay the bills at the end of the month as he returned from numerous contract jobs. 

Besides her Chinese neighbours, Saraswati had neighbours from Punjab, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Ajit Singh had a few dairy cows at the back compound of his house. From Ajit, Saraswati and her children had an uninterrupted supply of fresh milk. 

R-L: Shobha(Saraswati‘s daughter) , Ah Soh(by then in her early 70s), Meela (Sarawati’s daughter), Saraswati and Kamala. (Photo taken circa the early 2000s). Courtesy: Farouk Gulsara

Two doors away from Saraswati’s house was Kamala’s. It was always a hive of activities from day to night. Kamala had so many children that Saraswati had lost count. People came and went as if it were the marketplace, and their main door was always open. There were always people singing, dancing or simply yakking there. 

Ah Soh’s house was next to Devi’s house. Her household was loud, too, at the end of the month, but for a different reason. Devi has five children to show for her seven years of marriage. Her husband, a postman, also had something to offer, a mistress. Somewhere along the way, he picked up drinking, and his frequenting at the local liquor shop introduced him to a dancer. It was a routine that at the end of the month, as everyone received their pay, the neighbourhood would be filled with much noise; the clanging of kitchen utensils from Devi’s, music from Kamala’a and shuffling of mahjong tiles from Ah Soh’s front porch. Devi’s family quarrel noise over money got buried over the rest.

Saraswati has been feeling easily lethargic these days. She realises that her monthlies have been delayed. Her husband’s monthly visit has been productive. She now has to get used to the idea that there will be an addition to the family. 

Maybe it is the pregnancy; she is getting a little pensive these days. She sometimes reminisces about the life that she had. Uprooted from her family by the forces of nature, she started a life as a child labour. Because of superstition, she was packed off again into marriage. Driven by economic hardship, she and her husband crossed the dreaded Black Waters to try their luck in a new land. 

From an illiterate teenager, now she has morphed into a woman who could command leadership in her circle of friends and care for her family. From a meek non-adventurous vegetarian, she has savoured all meats and dishes, some of which her ancestors would have never dreamt of tasting. 

She wonders what the future holds for her, her husband and the three kids she will raise to adulthood in this independent young country called Malaya as it crawls into the mid-1960s.

The foreground: Rohan, Saraswati’s grandson. In the background, Kamala’s son, Raja, in deep conversation with Nanda Lal and Shobha (Saraswati’ kids). The same house they all grew up in, albeit the extensions and refurbishments. (Picture taken circa the early 2000s) Courtesy: Farouk Gulsara

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Farouk Gulsara is a daytime healer and a writer by night. After developing his left side of his brain almost half his lifetime, this johnny-come-lately decided to stimulate the non-dominant part of his remaining half. An author of two non-fiction books, ‘Inside the twisted mind of Rifle Range Boy’ and ‘Real Lessons from Reel Life’, he writes regularly in his blog ‘Rifle Range Boy’.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International