Childhood Memories on Pitara Kids Network

A Birthday Surprise

Fri, 28 Apr 2006 12:07:46 +0000

When you live in one place for as long as I have, you get to know everyone in the locality. I have lived in one house for 25 years now. When we moved to this house, the first person I met was Tara. Her parents lived in the next block. I think she was about eight when I first met her. Tara had wavy black hair, big mischievous eyes and a ready smile on her face all the time.

Go For It, Bablu!

Fri, 07 Feb 2003 01:20:48 +0000

It happened on the day school started after a heavenly two months of summer holidays. Shankar refused to wake up at 6 am. He wanted to dream more about his visit to his grandparents’ home. They lived in the picturesque city of Mysore in the southern Indian state of Karnataka. He particularly wanted to remember his two trips to the Bandipur National Park. It was a magical forest in the shade of the Nilgiri mountains which always seemed to have their heads in the clouds! Shankar had been lucky to see the stately Asian elephant, the Mugger crocodile, the four-horned antelope, and the leopard. The tiger had been elusive. “Next time,” Shankar told himself happy at the thought.

An Unforgetful Trip

Sun, 04 May 2003 22:43:03 +0000

The Thunderbirds – This was the name that Namrata, Pooja, Kajari, Latika, Ayesha, Moni, Geetika, Ritu, Parul and Priyanka had given to their gang of 10. Everyone in St. Anna Girls’ School knew them. They were always seen together.

“Guys!!!!! The list of places for the mid-term trip has been put up on the notice board,” announced Namrata, who in her excitement had got up on a chair to grab everyone’s attention.

That did it. What had been an orderly classroom a few seconds earlier was now an empty class. The entire class had dashed off to see the announcement on the notice board.

Toys For a Big Boy

Mon, 05 May 2003 11:48:53 +0000

Ronit Subramanian was seven years old and he was the tallest student in his class. It made him feel very proud. But when he remembered some of the things he used to do as a small kid, he felt a little shy. He wished his mother would not tell those stories to her friends again and again.

Last week his mother’s old school friend had come to see her. They were meeting after 10 years. Ronit was just back from school but his ears pricked up when he heard his mother say in that goofy tone, “You know what my Ronit used to do as a baby? He used to think everything and everyone was a part of the Subramanian family. So he would call the refrigerator ‘frig Subramanian. And he would call the doggy that curled up on our doormat outside ‘doggy Subramanian’”. Ronit heard his mother’s friend say, “cho chweeeet” and he ran out of the house – without any lunch. “I wish mother would not do these things,” he said for the thousandth time.

The Boy with a Catapult

Thu, 21 Sep 2000 16:19:33 +0000

Our class at school has an odd assortment of boys. There was Harbans Lal who, when asked a difficult question, would take a sip out of his inkpot because he believed it sharpened his wits. If the teacher boxed his ears he would yell, “Help! Murder!” so loudly that teachers and boys from other classes would come running to see what had happened. This caused much embarrassment to the teacher. If the teacher tried to cane him, he would put his arms round him and implore, “Forgive me, Your Majesty! You are like Akbar the Great. You Emperor Ashoka. You are my father, my grandfather, my great grandfather.”

What's in a Name?

Wed, 30 Oct 2002 11:53:16 +0000

There were two things in the world that Ghagra Geeta Bali hated. The first was the way Rani, the domestic help, combed her hair. Rani said she combed hard to make sure that there was no lice or dandruff in her hair. But she did it with such force that Ghagra Geeta Bali feared it would remove bits of her scalp, as well.

The second was, you guessed it, her name. She hated her name so much that she prayed to god every night: Dear god, let me die and be born again. So I too can have a name like Rita or Preeti or Mina or Koel. A short, smart one-word name.

Kaku and Lal Hawa

Thu, 25 Apr 2002 04:38:01 +0000

Kaku lived in a small village called Chhoti Dadi. The small village had a small school. Everyday Kaku had to walk from his little hut at one end of the village to the primary school near the village well. On his way to school, he passed through green paddy fields, the village lake and the old Ram Lila ground. All his friends, be it dreamy Jhunjhunu, colorful Pinaki or talkative Tachi, did not like walking to school.

The Boy Who Could Do Nothing Right!

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 21:06:32 +0000

Do you know of anyone who stumbles on a flat stretch of road, or walks into chairs and tables all the time? I knew one such boy. His name was Tarun. I met him in the hill retreat of Shimla in the northern Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. I had gone there for a holiday some time ago.

The Boy Who Could Do Nothing Right!

For a nine-year-old Tarun was tall. Since he was much taller than his classmates, he would hunch his shoulders to appear smaller. His arms and legs were loose and he always seemed to have trouble walking straight. It seemed as if his arms and limbs were not ready to go along with the rest of the body. So much so that the joke in school was that no one knew whether Tarun was coming or going. On any given day there would be one or more bruises on his body from walking into table corners or closing the door on his hand. Prince of the Clumsy Kingdom was what everyone called him. Tarun was miserable.

Letter from a Daughter to a Mother

Sat, 12 May 2001 19:01:30 +0000

Twelve-year-old Soumya thinks that mothers can make difficult things simple. In this letter to her mother, she tells us why she feels so.

Dearest mother, you are the loveliest person in the whole world. You do anything and everything for me. Now this reminds me of the day when I had a fight with my friends.

This happened when I was 10 years old. My friends and I were playing basketball when one of them teased another. The one who was teased was sensitive. She started crying.

The Silent Passer-by

Sun, 25 Aug 2002 02:48:15 +0000

When I was a child, I didn’t have hair on my head, just some stubs.

I liked to watch my friends play. I would join them now and then, but I preferred watching.

Every day, we would see an old man walking by our playground, carrying an umbrella. He had big ears and a bald head. The moment my friends saw him pass by, they would shout, “Hey, deaf and dumb, what’s the time?” They told me that he could neither hear nor speak.

Passing by My School Garden

Tue, 09 Nov 1999 05:17:32 +0000

How I wish I could step into this garden
Just a temptation as I pass by
I wanted to know what the flowers said
And the gentle murmur of the wind in the sky.

My heart swayed with happiness
As I watched the upright poppies
The wind whistled while kissing the trees
And the jolly gardener watered them happily.

Perhaps the leaves so green, were busy
Preparing tasty dishes for the family!
The sweet smelling fragrance of that lovely environment
Got to my nostrils and tickled my mind.

The Dress

Fri, 28 Jun 2002 02:32:13 +0000

One evening, Maya was making plans for her birthday. She sat in the living room with her father and instructed him on what to get for her.

“I want a chocolate cake…only a chocolate cake…and white candles on top, please ensure they are white…and five-differently coloured balloons, and of course, Nina’s blue dress,” she told him gravely.

Her father who was writing all this down, looked up. “Why Nina’s blue dress?” he asked.

“Because it is the only one that is the colour of the sky,” she answered. “You know daddy, blue is my favourite colour.”

The Fairy Doll

Tue, 25 May 1999 05:21:47 +0000

Not that!" screamed Sheila. “Yes not her!” repeated Anna. “She will stay with us.” Sheila snatched Matilda from her maid and they ran to their room.

In case you are wondering what I am talking about or who is Matilda? Well, Matilda is Sheila and Anna’s favorite doll and the children, along with the maid, were sorting out their old toys to be given to poor children on Christmas.

The Fairy Doll [Illustrations by Kusum Chamoli]

Matilda was a funny little doll, stuffed with bits of old clothes. Her eyes were made of two little black buttons, her hair was made of red wool and her nose was flat. Matilda was always smiling and was very soft and cuddly. She was given to the children by their grandmother when Sheila was three years old and Anna only two.

The Candy

Fri, 10 May 2002 01:57:51 +0000

It was a hot Tuesday afternoon in the month of October. The geography lesson was interesting but Sharmila was getting restless waiting for the class to get over. The ice candy man had come some time ago and his day’s quota would soon get over.

He visited the school every Tuesday and Thursday to sell his delicious candies that the children waited for eagerly, every week. It was always a struggle for the teachers to hold on to the students’ attention during the last period of school on those two days.

The Lame Groom and his English Bride

Mon, 25 Jun 2001 18:47:09 +0000

Kamini loved her dolls. She had three of them. Two of them were Indian and she had named them Rukmani and Ranjani, so that they rhymed with her name. Her uncle had gifted her another doll that he had brought from London, who she had named Jenny. Kamini’s dolls were her babies. She brushed their teeth in the morning, washed them and dressed them up. When she had her breakfast she would have them sitting by her side. At night before going to sleep, she would put them to sleep. Her brother Vivek would indulge her by allowing the dolls to take rides in his various cars.

Excerpts from Ek-kori’s Dream

Tue, 18 Dec 2001 09:43:36 +0000

Ek-kori’s Dream
By Mahasveta Devi; Translated by Lila Majumdar; Illustrations by Judhajit Sengupta, Published by National Book Trust, India

There was no other way but to take cover as early as possible. The village school would open as soon as it was light and Aunt would certainly send him to school today.
The mango tree was outside the house, a huge fajli mango tree. Ekkori’s grandmother used to plant good mango saplings year after year, but Grandfather uprooted them all. Aunt grieved over it to this day. “Oh dear, dear!” she would say sadly, “no one shouts in the house now-a-days! Mother and Father quarrelled all day long and the whole house echoed with it!”

Holi is For Children

Mon, 21 Oct 2002 23:58:45 +0000

Kamla Mathur was born and brought up in Etah, a small town in Uttar Pradesh. Now, at 65, she lives in Delhi and reminisces fondly of the Holi she and her siblings celebrated at ‘home’, in the area called Brajbhoomi, the land where the Braj dialect of Hindi is spoken. Brajbhoomi refers to the places connected to the legends of the birth and childhood of Krishna and his dalliance with Radha.

As Holi continues to be a significant festival for the Brajvasis, many of the old ways of celebration survive. However, with time, the community feeling has lessened somewhat. Kamla Mathur takes us back to her childhood when Holi meant sheer fun.

Toy Gang

Fri, 08 May 1998 08:23:00 +0000

Nina got down from the school bus and looked around. Sarala was nowhere to be seen. She was surprised. This had never happened before. Sarala would always be standing at the bus stop waiting for Nina. The moment she saw Nina she would rush forward, give her a big hug, take the school bag in one hand and grasping Nina’s hand in the other, start walking.

“Nina how was your day? Did Rahul tease you today? How is your new English teacher, Moushami maam? How much homework do you have?” she would badger her with questions.

If The Tooth Be Told!...

Sun, 17 Jun 2001 14:53:11 +0000

Dada and Dadi were very funny. They were good fun too. They loved everyone and always had a good thing to say for everyone they met. They could always make people laugh.

All, that is, except each other. Somehow, they just had to look at each other, and they’d start fighting. It was really silly how the two of them were forever snapping at each other. And since they spent lot’s of time together, their moods were becoming more and more sour. Soon they didn’t have a good thing to say about anyone. They made no one laugh anymore. In fact, they often ended up making people cry.

The 'Jawabi Keertan'

Fri, 12 Apr 2002 20:30:33 +0000

I saw it 23 years ago, but the incident is as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I was seven years old then and staying with my grandmother in Shahjahanpur, a sleepy little town in western Uttar Pradesh. The nearest big city, Bareilly, known for its glass bangles industry, was one hour away.

It was the month of July and most people found it difficult to do anything beyond wiping the sweat off their brows. But one day, the whole town was buzzing with excitement, especially in and around the railway station. The reason was pretty clear: the Jawabi Keertan was round the corner!

The Gift of Wonder

Fri, 22 Dec 2000 09:04:06 +0000

Eleven years ago, under the sequinned sky on a warm summer day, on the roof of his palatial home in the town of Vrindaban, my grandfather introduced me to wonder. As I lay on a mattress surrounded members of the family, my grandfather or “Nana” as I used to call him, asked me to look at the sky and try to spot the patterns and the constellations. “What does that look like?” he would ask, pointing to the Little Bear. “Um, a cart?” I would hesitantly venture. And he would chuckle and acknowledge what I had seen. He never denied my experiences. If it was a cart I said I had seen, as far as he was concerned, it was a cart.

Going to School

Fri, 09 Feb 2001 02:38:09 +0000

I am sharing a small, yet the most important part of my life, with you. You may think “What the dickens have we got to do with her life?” After all, even I used to think the same way when I was a child but sometimes other’s lives can be interesting depending on how you see it.

I can’t forget the date. It was January 25th, 1987. The temperature was around 5 degree Celsius in Moradabad, my hometown, in India. I was wrapped up in my quilt, feeling warm and cozy when somebody pulled me out of my warm cocoon. This heartless creature was the one and the only person who dared do this – MOM!

Something Foolish

Thu, 30 Jan 1997 02:27:14 +0000

Numerous events have happened in my life but the one that tops the list of foolish events is the one that happened sometime ago, on a Saturday.

Something Foolish [Illustration by Sudheer Nath]

As it was a holiday, I was at home. My mother had to buy some articles from the nearby general store. She left after ensuring that I had locked the door properly and said that she would return within 15 minutes.

Sundari

Fri, 01 Feb 2002 07:41:37 +0000

Sundari was my cousins’ immediate neighbour. She lived with Lalit Kapoor and his German wife, Hazel, in their beautiful bunglow in Nizammudin East. This goes back many, many years, when I used to come to Delhi from Indore for my holidays. I must have been six or seven years old then. I saw her for the first time from my cousins’ balcony. She was lazing in the garden enjoying the sun on that wintry afternoon.

Granny's Girl

Wed, 08 Mar 2000 12:34:45 +0000

Granny’s Girl []

Neena’s Granny

Written by Vinita Krishna
Illustrations by Sujasha Dasgupta
Published by Scholastic India Pvt. Ltd.

Some grannies are funny, some grannies are loving, but Neena’s granny is her best friend. While the little girl thrives on Granny’s lunchtime surprises and stories and snuggles up to her in the night, Granny looks forward to her darling’s return from school and waits to hear her amusing tales.

Best Day of the Term

Tue, 23 Feb 1999 22:10:21 +0000

Best Day of the Term [Illustration by Navin Pangti]

As I sat down to work out a page of sums on the first school day of 2001, I couldn’t help but think of that lovely day, the best day of the term, just three weeks ago.

“Surbhi, give me your number! Hey, Aradhana! Wait for me, will you? Seen the ice cream man?”

The Lesson

Wed, 23 Feb 2000 14:17:05 +0000

It was on a rainy day last week that Ravi came running up to our third floor house, pretending he was a fast train. He rang the bell like it was the whistle of a steam engine. Acting as if I was loading a goods wagon, I handed him a bundle of clothes for ironing, with the usual reminder that he should take them to his parents without dropping them even once.

I reminded him of the time when he had dropped my freshly washed white salwar in a puddle. Pretending to be Shaktimaan, or the local Superman who appears in a television serial, he tried to “fly” from the fifth stair and crashed to the ground.

Boyhood by the Sea

Tue, 01 Jun 1999 07:35:22 +0000

Boyhood by the Sea []

Suresh and the Sea
Written by Raghavendra Rao and Sandhya Rao
Photos by Raghavendra Rao
Published by Tulika, Chennai

This book traces the real-life story of a boy through his growing years in his native fishing village, Injambakkam. The author, Raghavendra Rao, tells of how Suresh taught him to look at the sea with new eyes and surrender to the sea’s charms. His black and white photographs make the experience come alive for his readers.

Little Gyatsu Goes To School

Sun, 25 Jun 2000 14:56:54 +0000

As the sun rises over the hills, the birds start chirping. Nine-year-old Gyatsu knows that it is time to go to school. All his friends in the village go to school too. In no time a small army of rosy-cheeked children can be seen hurrying through the streets and up the hills, to the local primary school. The birds keep them company throughout the way.

Little Gyatsu lives in a hill village called Drutlang. It is close to Aizawl, which is the capital of Mizoram state, in the north-eastern part of India. Mizoram is one of the seven hill states in north-east India. These seven states are called The Seven Sisters.

The Haunted House

Wed, 03 Jul 1996 15:01:59 +0000

This is a contribution from one of our young pitara viewer Shilpa from Barbados. She is six years old.

The Haunted House []

One day when I was playing a game called dodge ball, our ball went on a hill way up high. When we reached the top, we saw an old house. It was very calm, so we went in to investigate.

When we went in, we saw old chairs and we also heard voices. We saw skulls and skeletons. It was really horrible. So we immediately got out of that house and never went to that house again. Did you ever see a house like that? If you have please write about your experience.

Toilet Matters

Sat, 06 Feb 1999 15:38:04 +0000

Where: New Delhi, India

August 3, 2000 : As a kid, I had a big problem going out. I hated the thought of travel. It’s not that I was a stay-at-home type. I liked visiting people, places. But travel I hated. For, in the midst of a particularly long journey, I would desperately want to go to the toilet. My parents would ask me to hold on, as there were no suitable public toilets for girls. I would try but start to fidget again. My parents would search for toilet, none would be found suitable. In fact, most of the time, none would be found at all. How I hated travel!

सोमवार की सुबह

Thu, 06 Feb 1997 16:07:37 +0000

स्वामी और उसके दोस्त का प्रथम अंश

सोमवार की सुबह थी। स्वामीनाथन की आंखे खोलने की इच्छा नहीं हो रही थी। सोमवार उसे कैलेंडर का सबसे मनहूस दिन लगता था। शनिवार और रविवार की मज़ेदार आजादी के बाद सोमवार को काम और अनुशासन के मूड़ में आना बहुत मुश्किल होता था।

स्कूल के विचार से ही उसे झुरझुरी आ गयी वह पीली मनहूस बिल्डिंग जलती आंखों वाला कक्षा अध्यापक वेदनायकम और पतली लंबी छड़ी हाथ में लिए हैडमास्टर।