A tiny honeybee once wished to fly on her own and see the world. She longed to gather nectar from flowers and store honey by herself. After persuading her mother, she flew out of the hive.
As she flew around, she spotted a bright red rose blooming in one place. She immediately tried to land on it. But the rose closed its petals at once.
“Oh, little honeybee! Have you come to sip my nectar so easily? Give me what I want, and then take what you want,” said the rose.
“What can I give the rose?” the honeybee wondered.
Just then, a rabbit appeared beside the bushes. The honeybee asked, “What should I give the rose to make her happy?”
“I don’t know. I have to collect roots,” said the rabbit and hopped away.
A little further, the honeybee saw a cow grazing. She asked, “What should I give the rose?”
“How would I know what a rose wants? All I know is grazing and giving milk,” said the cow.
The honeybee felt disappointed by this answer. As she flew ahead, she saw a peacock. “Peacock! Do you know what I should give the rose?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. But if you want, take one of my feathers and try giving that,” suggested the peacock.
The honeybee brightened up. She happily took the peacock feather and flew to the rose.
“Look what I brought for you!” she said, showing the feather.
But the rose said, “This is not what I want,” and closed her petals again.
This time the honeybee saw a parrot and asked for help.
“Children love my playfulness. Take this ripe guava I’ve pecked. Give it to the rose. She will surely like it,” said the parrot.
The honeybee felt hopeful and took the guava to the rose. But the rose frowned, “I’m a flower. Do you think I eat fruits?”
Discouraged, the honeybee settled sadly on a nearby bush.
“In this huge forest, doesn’t anyone know what the rose wants? How will I sup on nectar?” she cried.
A sage meditating in a nearby hermitage heard her voice. He called her close and told her what the rose truly wished for.
Immediately, the honeybee flew to a meadow where little children were playing. She played with them for a while and then asked them to come to the rose plant.
When they hesitated, she said, “There are guava, orange, and banana trees. You can eat plenty of fruits!”
Hearing this, the children followed her.
When they reached the garden, they laughed, clapped, and shouted joyfully, “This place is so beautiful!”
The honeybee went to the rose and said, “You wanted children’s laughter, didn’t you? Look over there.”
Hearing the children’s joyful laughter, the rose blossomed happily.
The honeybee gently landed on the flower and drank nectar to her heart’s content.
The children picked the fruits they liked and went home.
After a while, the honeybee too returned to her hive and shared many stories with her mother. The mother bee felt proud of the little bee’s kindness.
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
It has been a strange year for all of us. Amidst the chaos, bloodshed and climate disasters, Borderless Journal seems to be finding a footing in an orphaned world, connecting with writers who transcend borders and readers who delight in a universe knit with the variety and vibrancy of humanity. Like colours of a rainbow, the differences harmonise into an aubade, dawning a world with the most endearing of human traits, hope.
A short round up of this year starts with another new area of focus — a section with writings on environment and climate. Also, we are delighted to add we now host writers from more than forty countries. In October, we were surprised to see Borderless Journal listed on Duotrope and we have had a number of republications with acknowledgement — the last request was signed off this week for a republication of Ihlwha Choi’s poem in an anthology by Hatchette US. We have had many republications with due acknowledgment in India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and UK too among other places. Our team has been active too not just with words and art but also with more publications from Borderless. Rhys Hughes, who had a play performed to a full house in Wales recently, brought out a whole book of his photo-poems from Borderless. Bhaskar Parichha has started an initiative towards another new anthology from our content — Odia poets translated by Snehaprava Das. We are privileged to have all of you — contributors and readers — on board. And now, we invite you to savour some of our fare published in Borderless from January 2025 to December 2025. These are pieces that embody the spirit of a world beyond borders…
I Am Not My Mother: Gigi Baldovino Gosnell gives a story of child abuse set in Philippines where the victim towers with resilience. Click here to read.
Persona: Sohana Manzoor wanders into a glamorous world of expats. Click here to read.
In American Wife, Suzanne Kamata gives a short story set set in the Obon festival in Japan. Click here to read.
Sandy Cannot Write: Devraj Singh Kalsi takes us into the world of advertising and glamour. Click here to read.
Reminiscences from a Gallery: The Other Ray: Dolly Narang muses on Satyajit Ray’s world beyond films and shares a note by the maestro and an essay on his art by the eminent artist, Paritosh Sen. Click here to read.
A discussion of Jaladhar Sen’s The Travels of a Sadhu in the Himalayas, translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal, with an online interview with the translator. Click here to read.
Gower Bhat discusses the advent of coaching schools in Kashmir for competitive exams for University exams, which seem to be replacing real schools. Clickhere to read.
In the town of Seethanagar lived Ramayya and Seethamma with their son Madhu. Though Madhu was twenty-five years old, he did not work at all. He spent his days lazily, eating well three times a day and sleeping soundly, without caring about anything else. His parents were tired of advising him again and again. Sometimes they scolded him out of anger, but Madhu remained indifferent and idle.
One day, Ramayya and Seethamma decided to teach him a lesson. They said firmly, “We will give you food only if you work. Otherwise, you will not get anything from us.” Not liking this condition, Madhu left home secretly.
He went to a nearby town and decided to beg for a living. Sitting on the temple steps, he planned to live on people’s charity and the offerings of the temple priest. To gain sympathy, he wrapped his left leg with a bandage from foot to knee and smeared it with red color to look like blood. He stretched that leg forward and begged from the devotees, pretending to be injured.
One day, a rich man named Subbayya came out of the temple after worship. Seeing Madhu, he stopped and said, “Why have you wrapped your leg? You are young and healthy. Don’t you feel ashamed to sit and beg instead of working?”
Madhu lied, “Sir, my leg is diseased. It always bleeds, and I have no money to get it treated. That is why I am begging here.”
Feeling sorry for him, Subbayya said, “Come with me. I will feed you and take you to a doctor.” Madhu followed him, limping and rejoicing secretly that he had found an easy way to live comfortably without work.
That day, Subbayya served him a full meal and asked him to rest. In the evening, he called his family doctor to examine Madhu. The doctor carefully checked Madhu’s leg and realized he was pretending. He told Subbayya that Madhu’s leg was perfectly fine and that his laziness must have made him act this way.
Subbayya then requested the doctor to teach the lazy boy a serious lesson.
Following Subbayya’s advice, the doctor returned to Madhu and pretended to examine him again. As Subbayya entered the room, the doctor said loudly, “This disease is very strange. It cannot be cured easily.”
Hearing that, Madhu felt happy. He thought he could stay in Subbayya’s house forever without doing any work.
Then the doctor added, “There is only one solution …. surgery. If we remove the leg, the disease will be cured completely.”
Subbayya replied, “If that’s the case, go ahead. Do the operation tomorrow. I will bear all the expenses.”
The doctor said, “But if we remove his leg, how will he live?”
Subbayya answered, “Anyway, he is used to begging near the temple. That’s his habit. People who refuse to work for their living can survive like that.”
The doctor said, “Alright, then tomorrow itself, I’ll remove his leg. Till then, don’t give him any food.”
Madhu overheard their entire conversation. His heart sank. His deception could cost him much. Out of fear, he could not sleep. After deep thought, he understood that no one feeds a lazy person for free. If he could do some work at home, he would never need to struggle like this. Leaving home was a mistake.
That night itself, he quietly slipped out of the house and ran away. By dawn, he reached his village. He met his parents and said, “My laziness is gone. I promise to obey you. From tomorrow, I will work sincerely as you say.” His parents were overjoyed.
From that day onward, Madhu gave up his idleness and began to enjoy the happiness that comes from honest hard work.
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
Odbayar Dorj writes of celebrating the start of the new school year in Mongolia and of their festivals around teaching and learning. Click here to read.
Naramsetti Umamaheswararao gives a story set in a village in Andhra Pradesh. Clickhere to read.
Feature
A conversation withAmina Rahman, owner of Bookworm Bookshop, Dhaka, about her journey from the corporate world to the making of her bookstore with a focus on community building. Clickhereto read.
The idea of spring heralds hope even when it’s deep winter. The colours of spring bring variety along with an assurance of contentment and peace. While wars and climate disasters rage around the world, peace can be found in places like the cloistered walls of Sistine Chapel where conflicts exist only in art. Sometimes, we get a glimpse of peace within ourselves as we gaze at the snowy splendour of Himalayas and sometimes, in smaller things… like a vernal flower or the smile of a young child. Inner peace can at times lead to great art forms as can conflicts where people react with the power of words or visual art. But perhaps, what is most important is the moment of quietness that helps us get in touch with that inner voice giving out words that can change lives. Can written words inspire change?
Our featured bookstore’s owner from Bangladesh, Amina Rahman, thinks it can. Rahman of Bookworm, has a unique perspective for she claims, “A lot of people mistake success with earning huge profits… I get fulfilment out of other things –- community health and happiness and… just interaction.” She provides books from across the world and more while trying to create an oasis of quietude in the busy city of Dhaka. It was wonderful listening to her views — they sounded almost utopian… and perhaps, therefore, so much more in synch with the ideas we host in these pages.
Our content this month are like the colours of the rainbow — varied and from many countries. They ring out in different colours and tones, capturing the multiplicity of human existence. The translations start with Professor Fakrul Alam’s transcreation of Nazrul’s Bengali lyrics in quest of the intangible. Isa Kamari translates four of his own Malay poems on spiritual quest, while from Balochi, Fazal Baloch bring us Munir Momin’s esoteric verses in English. Snehprava Das’s translation of Rohini K.Mukherjee poetry from Odia and S.Ramakrishnan’s story translated from Tamil by B.Chandramouli also have the same transcendental notes. Tagore’s playful poem on winter (Sheeth) mingles a bit for spring, the season welcomed by all creatures great and small.
We have good news to share —Borderless Journal has had the privilege of being listed on Duotrope – which means more readers and writers for us. We are hugely grateful to all our readers and contributors without who we would not have a journal. Thanks to our wonderful team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork.
Hope you have a wonderful month as we move towards the end of this year.
Once there lived a farmer named Venkanna in Bhimavaram village. He had a grown-up son named Somu. But Somu was very lazy.
One day, Venkanna’s relatives came. They said that they were going on a pilgrimage and invited them along. Venkanna replied, “Our paddy field will be ruined, if we go away for a whole month now. The harvest should be cut and stacked.”
His relatives persuaded him by saying, “Let your son Somu take care of the work. He will also learn that way. If you both come along, we will see that you face no problems. You won’t get such good company again.” Venkanna agreed after thinking for a while. Overhearing this, Somu promised that he would handle the farm work. Venkanna and his wife left with their relatives.
As instructed, Somu went to the fields a couple of times in the beginning. Seeing the paddy, he thought, “The crop is not ripe yet. It needs ten more days.” So, he lazed and postponed the work. Eventually he stopped visiting the field altogether.
He was reminded twenty days later when his neighbouring farmers enquired why he hadn’t harvested the crop yet. It was already too late by then. He rushed to the field. But he couldn’t find workers immediately. He managed to bring some labourers after five more days. But the crop had become overripe and most of the grains had fallen to the ground.
Venkanna saw the field when he returned from the pilgrimage. He was heartbroken. “I should never have trusted Somu. I shouldn’t have gone,” he moaned while scolding his son bitterly for his laziness.
Later, when there was a wedding in their family, Venkanna again had to leave. Before going, he told Somu, “There is a crop of groundnuts. Go and check every day. Guard the field so cattle don’t graze on it. There’s still some time before it needs to be harvested, so be careful.”
Somu remembered his past mistake with the paddy. He wanted to do better this time and called the labourers in advance. He had the groundnut harvested early. He stacked the crop neatly, thinking his father would praise him.
Venkanna returned later and was shocked. The groundnuts were harvested before the seeds had matured. The grains were soft inside and not ready. Such a crop would fetch no price. Venkanna was distressed again. He scolded Somu. “I only face losses because of you. When will you learn?”
Somu replied stubbornly, “Even when I do the work, you’re never satisfied. Then why should I work at all?” Their argument grew heated.
At that time, their schoolteacher, Mohan, happened to pass by. He stepped in hearing the quarrel and asked what had happened. Venkanna explained Somu’s laziness and the losses it caused.
Then Mohan said, “Your son clearly doesn’t realise how dangerous laziness is. Let me talk to him.”
He said, turning to Somu, “Laziness is the root cause of failure. A lazy person can never achieve what he wants. The greatest enemy of a man is not someone outside, it is laziness itself.”
Somu replied honestly, “I want to give up laziness, but I am unable to. What should I do?”
Mohan smiled and said, “You must practice being active. I’ll give you an example. You’ve raised hens, haven’t you? Have you seen how a mother hen cares for her eggs?”
“No, I haven’t noticed,” said Somu.
Then Mohan explained, “The mother hen sits patiently on her eggs, waiting for the chick inside to peck its way out. Only when it hears the chick tapping from inside, does the hen carefully break the shell from outside to help it out. If she breaks it too early, the chick, which hasn’t fully formed, will die inside. This is exactly what happened with your groundnut harvest, you were too early.”
He continued, “But the hen also never delays once the chick is ready. She immediately helps it out or else the chick will die. That was your paddy mistake. You were too late. Do you understand now?”
Somu nodded realising.“Yes, I see my fault.”
Mohan concluded, “Just as the hen waits with care and patience, we too must show the same attention in our work. Whatever it is…. Farming or business. Responsibility and timing are important. Then only we will get results. If you are a student, careful planning and sincere effort will always lead to progress.” Somu slowly started working hard and thoughtfully from then on.
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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Art by Henry Tayali(1943-1987). From Public Domain
Let us imagine a world where wars have been outlawed and there is only peace. Is that even possible outside of John Lennon’s song? While John Gray, a modern-day thinker, propounds human nature cannot change despite technological advancements, one has to only imagine how a cave dweller would have told his family flying to the moon was an impossibility. And yet, it has been proven a reality and now, we are thinking living in outer space, though currently it is only the forte of a few elitists and astronomers. Maybe, it will become an accessible reality as shown in books by Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke or shows like Star Trek and Star Wars. Perhaps, it’s only dreamers or ideators pursuing unreal hopes and urges who often become the change makers, the people that make humanity move forward. In Borderless, we merely gather your dreams and present them to the world. That is why we love to celebrate writers from across all languages and cultures with translations and writings that turn current norms topsy turvy. We feature a number of such ideators in this issue.
Nazrul in his times, would have been one such ideator, which is why we carry a song by him translated by Professor Fakrul Alam. And yet before him was Tagore — this time we carry a translation of an unusual poem about happiness. From current times, we present to you a poet — perhaps the greatest Malay writer in Singapore — Isa Kamari. He has translated his longing for changes into his poems. His novels and stories express the same longing as he shares in The Lost Mantras, his self-translated poems that explore adapting old to new. We will be bringing these out over a period of time. We also have poems by Hrushikesh Mallick translated from Odia by Snehprava Das and a poignant story by Sharaf Shad translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch.
Book reviews homes an indepth introduction by Somdatta Mandal to Banu Mushtaq’s Heart Lamp: Selected Stories, translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi. We have a discussion by Meenakshi Malhotra on Contours of Him: Poems, edited and introduced by Malaysian academic, Malachi Edwin Vethamani, in which she concludes, “that if femininity is a construct, so is masculinity.” Overriding human constructs are journeys made by migrants. Rupak Shreshta has introduced us to immigrant Sangita Swechcha’s Rose’s Odyssey: Tales of Love and Loss, translated from Nepali by Jayant Sharma. Bhaskar Parichha winds up this section with his exploration of Kalpana Karunakaran’s A Woman of No Consequence: Memory, Letters and Resistance in Madras. He tells us: “A Woman of No Consequence restores dignity to what is often dismissed as ordinary. It chronicles the spiritual and intellectual evolution of a woman who sought transcendence within the rhythms of domestic life, turning the everyday into a site of resistance and renewal.” Again, by the sound of it a book that redefines the idea that housework is mundane and gives dignity to women and the task at hand.
We wind up the October issue hoping for changes that will lead to a happier existence, helping us all connect with the commonality of emotions, overriding borders that hurt humanity, other species and the Earth.
Huge thanks to our fabulous team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her inimitable artwork. We would all love to congratulate Hughes for his plays that ran houseful in Swansea. And heartfelt thanks to all our wonderful contributors, without who this issue would not have been possible, and to our readers, who make it worth our while, to write and publish.
Once upon a time, the Rain God and the Wind God had an argument.
“I am greater than you,” said the Rain God.
“No, I am greater,” replied the Wind God.
To decide who was truly greater, they made a deal: “Whoever can trouble the people of Earth more, will be the greatest,” they agreed.
The next day, the Rain God started the round. It started with light showers but soon turned into heavy rain. It rained non-stop for an entire week! Crops were drowned. Farmers cried over their year-long hard work being washed away. Poor people’s small huts were destroyed. Some people died under collapsing walls. Animals were washed away in floods. Birds shivered in the cold. Rivers and lakes overflowed. Roads were flooded.
For seven days, the Sun didn’t shine, and people were very worried.
They prayed to the Rain God, “Please stop the rain!”
Hearing their cries, the Rain God finally stopped.
He proudly asked the Wind God, “Now do you agree I am the greatest?”
The Wind God replied, “Wait till you see my power. Then we’ll talk.”
Suddenly, the Wind God blew with all his strength.
Dust flew everywhere. Nothing was visible.
Roofs of huts flew away. People and animals were picked up and thrown down by the strong wind. Trees broke and fell. Even cattle tied in the yard broke their ropes and ran away. People were terrified. They prayed, “Wind God, please calm down!”
Hearing this, the Wind God smiled and stopped.
He told the Rain God proudly, “Look! People couldn’t handle even one day of my power. If I continued, imagine what would’ve happened.”
The Rain God was about to agree when suddenly they heard a voice: “No, you are both wrong!”
Surprised, they looked around. It was the Sun God speaking from the sky.
The Wind God asked, “Are you saying I’m not the greatest?”
The Sun said, “What’s so great about scaring people? If I shine too bright all day, even I can make people suffer. But that’s not our purpose. We exist to help people, not to trouble them.”
The Rain God said, “We just wanted to know who is greater.”
The Sun replied, “If you want to know that, ask Indra or the sages—not the people. You made people cry and suffer. Is that fair?”
Both gods asked, “Then what should we do?”
The Sun said, “Rain God, bring rain when it’s needed—during the rainy season or when the water level is low. Then people will worship you with love and gratitude. Wind God, blow cool breeze during summer. In winter, be gentle. During rains, guide the clouds to where rain is needed. Then people will respect and pray to you. Look at Mother Earth. She gives and serves without asking anything in return. Be like her. Don’t make people suffer just to prove who is better.”
The Rain God and Wind God nodded.
“You are right, Sun God. We agree. We will never make that mistake again.”
And with that, they left peacefully.
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
Borderless 