Tag: Stories

The Expired Thongs – Short Story by Anita Bacha



I embarked on a spiritual journey last spring and headed towards an ashram in search of self enquiry. My destination was India, a country known for its vast spiritual heritage. I carried in my luggage the minimal personal effects including a pair of old thongs. This search for the Truth of Oneself will, in my mind, be restrictive on personal wants and needs.


Two days after I had rambled around in my old thongs, I noticed that part of the right sole was coming off; I brought it closer to my eyes to have a microscopic view of the damage; I then perceived that there was another problem; the strap which run from between the big toe and the second toe to the right side of the sandal was threading off and thinning. I sadly told myself that the thongs had expired due to old age, wear and tear. It was essential for me to look for new thongs before the expired ones left me half-way. Opportunity knocked when the next morning I walked into a store to buy fruit juice. An array of attractive and colorful thongs was displayed on a self. I tried a few pairs until I fell on one which fitted perfectly.


I settled my bill, removed the new thongs from the box, glided my feet into them and placed the expired ones into the carton to throw away. Strangely, I could not find a dustbin and the expired thongs slept in the box under my bed almost forgotten.


Time passed by. For the festival of Mahashivratri, innumerable pilgrims arrived in the ashram from all over the world. One night, I misplaced my new thongs. I immediately run for the rescue of the expired ones. I had been advised by a physician to walk barefoot which was supposedly a good exercise for different types of inflammation and beneficial for my sore knees, but accustomed to the western way of life, I found it hard to hop around like a grasshopper without footwear.


Eventually, the expired thongs silently resumed their job of transporting me. Every time I came out of a hall or canteen where footwear was not allowed, my eyes fell on them waiting for me, tattered yet so warm. They were serving submissively and devotedly like old wives. I left them here and there, under the nose of everyone but nobody touched them. They were too old to draw attention or to be stolen. Expired they were, in the eyes of all except in mine. What a startling spiritual lesson to learn! Respect and hold on to the old; in times of need, they are the most helpful.


Further, nothing ever happens accidently or mysteriously, spiritual life shows us. For every happening, there is a proper reason. Moreover we are taught that inanimate objects too have feelings and emotions. For instance, it is told in the sacred Hindu book ‘The Ramayana’ that when Lord Rama went to rescue his wife Sita from the demon King Ravana, an army of monkeys came to his help. They built a bridge by plucking mountains from the Himalayas and throwing them into the seas to allow Rama to walk from his land to the realm of Ravana. When the bridge was done, one mountain cried because it was plucked from its original place but not used. Lord Rama then promised the mountain that in his next Avatara, it will receive his blessings. This very mountain was the Govardhana Peak which Rama as the Avatar Krishna lifted on his finger and held aloft for seven days in order to save the inhabitants of Gokul from the devastation of torrential rain.


To cut a long story short, I returned home with the expired thongs, having learnt that self enquiry leads one to detach from people, mundane life and affairs by opening one’s eyes to the deficiencies in them.

Anita Bacha

Write till your signature becomes your autograph cc.Anita Bacha

The Tears of A Mother – Story by Anita Bacha

On 26 Novembre 2012 , I was attending the Conference on Child Welfare and Protection organized by The Hague in Dakar,Senegal.

A writer at heart, I was inspired to pen down this story

The Tears of A Mother

A very long time ago, before God invented the dictionary of words, he sat down and started to create the first human beings. In no time, he produced the writer, the doctor, the moderator, the builder, the vegetable seller, the beautician and many, many others. Last he set out to make the mother.

An angel, who was watching God at work, asked:

“Why do you keep the mother last on the list? She should be the first.”

God answered “It’s not going to be an easy task. For the mother, I have to make more than one pair of hands.”

“Why?” asked the curious angel.

“She needs many pairs of hands as she will have to roll the parathas, check the temperature of the kid who is down with fever, put the dirty linen in the washing machine, answer that phone call and check her email to know how her eldest son is doing abroad and all at the same time!”

“Oh!”

“That’s not all! She will need a few pairs of legs too, to rush to school to drop one kid, to take the other one to the dentist, to run to the market, to collect that parcel from the post-office and all at the same time!”

“She must also have an extra pair of eyes in her back to watch the kids when they are in their room and see that the roast is not burnt whilst she is peeling the potatoes. Her lap must be larger than the average to cradle more than one at a time” continued God “her voice must be hard enough to scold and sweet enough to console.”

“That’s all?” the angel wanted to know.

“She must not only be an example of virtue but she must also be endowed with a few defects – spoiling, smothering, overfeeding her child and doing his home work when he is falling asleep to name a few.”

“She is hard to the touch!” said the angel.

“But as soft as butter inside!” answered God.

“Oh! Oh! God! There is a defect in your manufacture” remarked the angel “look here, there is a leak – water is running down the cheeks.”

“The tears! Of course! This is how the mother expresses her joy, her grief, her relief, her disappointment, her happiness, her sorrow and all her innermost feelings. But mind you, I did not make the tears. No! Niet! Non! Nahin! She made the tears herself.”

Anita Bacha

Happy Reading, My Friends!

Image source internet

The Song of the Cuckoo

a person should be honest in the first instance
no matter how harsh the truth is


Once, the mother of Mahatma Gandhi, Putlibai Gandhi was fasting and she let it be known that she would break the fast only when the she heard the song of the cuckoo.

She waited a long time but, alas, the cuckoo did not sing. Gandhi Ji was a small child then and he felt very sad that his mom would not take a morsel of food.


A brilliant idea crossed the mind of the adoring child. He rushed to the back garden and imitated the song of the cuckoo. He came back to the house, went up to his mom and said-
‘Maa, you can eat now; the cuckoo has sung!’


His mom unfortunately would not be fooled and she got very angry.
‘I am ashamed to have a son like you!’ she said.
’How can you speak such a lie? A lie is a sin!’ she added.


Gandhi Ji was heartbroken. He realized that his mother was extremely upset. He also understood that he had made a big mistake by lying to his mother. From that moment, he vowed that he would never tell a lie in his whole life. He never did.


Mother is, undoubtedly, our first and most important teacher. The bond of love between mother and child is sacred. It is the purity of this relationship that makes every lesson, that we learn from our mother, a lesson for life. We may forget what the school master teaches but, not what is taught by our mother.

Gandhi believed in honesty. Trying to conceal a lie may require a person to lie even more and this becomes a vicious circle. Therefore, a person should be honest in the first instant, no matter how harsh the truth is.

Image Jill Dinsmore

Goat Story

One day, an old and worn-out goat was quietly crossing over a bridge under which a river was flowing. Coming in the opposite direction gallantly, was a sturdy young goat. When they reached the middle of the bridge, they realized there was not enough room for two goats to pass. They halted. The young goat said in a threatening voice, ready to come to thorns-
‘Out of the way you so and so! I am in a hurry!’
The old goat felt the looming sparks of hostility in the air. He had fought several fights in his life and this young goat, he thought, would be K.O in the first round! But wisdom dawned upon him.
‘The bridge is made of bamboo and is not solid. What if it collapses during the struggle? We will both fall into the river with dire consequences!’ He reflected.
‘Look here, young chap!’ He addressed his opponent with diplomacy. ’There is no point in fighting! I will lie down on my tummy and you can walk across on my back!’
No sooner said than done, each goat went off on his way happily!
-Anita Bacha-