Green Grinch steals the sweets Who pudding and sugarplums Small heart wants the treats
Anita Bacha
How the Grinch Stole Christmas! is a children’s Christmas book by Theodor “Dr. Seuss” Geisel written in rhymed verse with illustrations by the author. It follows the Grinch, a cranky, solitary creature who attempts to thwart the public’s Christmas plans by stealing Christmas gifts and decorations from the homes of the nearby town of Whoville on Christmas Eve. As a result of the townspeople’s response, the Grinch realizes that Christmas is not all about money and presents.
I am one of the lucky ones who has read this absorbing #storybook published in 1957 when my dad well aware of my love for books Offered me‘How the Grinch stole #Christmas by #Dr Seuss for my birthday.
I remember with pride and nostalgia the subtle ways of my parents to encourage me and my siblings to read and write.
Christmas is not all about glitter,money and presents.
Story book by Dr.Seuss Image of Grinch cc Pinterest
Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
Boots are a type of shoes.The main difference between a shoe and a boot is that boots cover the ankle and sometimes the lower leg, while shoes generally don’t.
I was a law student in England.My father funded all my fees at University and later at the Inns of Court in London. I was also enjoying a fat student allowance but I would never spend my papa’s money on fancy clothes and stuff.
However, I fell head over heels for the trendy knee high leather boots that I saw at Russell and Bromley in Oxford Street, on my way to the underground tube station.
Idea! A good idea flashed in my mind!
I secured a job as salesgirl at Self Ridges during end of trimester vacation.
Et voilà! I bought my first knee high leather boots, color brown with high heels!
I wore my adorable boots during autumn, winter and early spring,with added pride, having bought them with my own earned money.
I love boots. Even at my age now, I feel very tomboyish, wearing them with my old jeans.
Anita Bacha
In India,attending the Jaipur Literary Festival 25.cc. photo.
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 auspicious Night of Shiva is spent by many devotees with telling stories to keep awake.
Probably because I am a devotee of the Hindu God , Lord Shiva and a writer of short stories for children, I wrote during one such night vigil and I am sharing
BLIND LOVE OF GOD
SHIVARATRI means the night of auspiciousness that has to be spent chanting the auspicious name of the Lord. Sri Sathya Sai Baba my Guru says we must consider every night as Shivaratri
Here is a short story, dear children,to read loud on Shivaratri –
BLIND LOVE OF GOD
Among the great devotees of Lord Shiva, the one that is embedded deep in the hearts of many Indians (especially from the South) is the story of Kannappa. There are many versions of this story, however, the spirit of love and devotion to the Lord is common across all the versions.
The story goes like this –
Kannappa, while on his daily hunt, comes across a temple of Lord Shiva. Entering the temple, he experiences a strange peace and tranquility. A serene bliss emanates from within and he stands with his eyes transfixed on the lingam. The merit of his past lives and the prodding from his destiny had sprouted in him an unquenchable love for Lord Shiva. Many had visited this temple before him and many did so after him too. But, Kannappa was among those rare few who got surcharged with divine love. From that day onwards, Kannappa became a regular at the temple. Every night, after finishing his hunt, he would arrive at the temple and offer Lord Shiva a part of the spoils. He would thus place meat in the holy sanctum.
The day which turned out to be a life-changing one for Kannappa, proved to be a life-changing one for the temple priest too. For, from that day on, whenever he arrived at the temple in the morning he would find it defiled with meat, blood and wine . Cursing the sinner who was indulging in such activity, he would clean the temple, take a bath, bring flowers for worship, offer naivedyam of fruits and, then leave.
This went on for several days and nights. Meanwhile, in Mount Kailash, Goddess Parvati asks her sweet Lord Shiva,
“Lord! During the day you are worshipped by the priest and at night by this hunter.Who is the one dearer to you? Who is the one who loves you more?”
This question made Lord Shiva smile and he said, “You can see it for yourself, Devi!”
One morning, as the priest went about his sincere worship of the lingam, something wondrous happened. The lingam sprouted eyes and they opened! Seeing this, the priest was thrilled beyond imagination. Even as his thrilled body broke into a dance, something horrifying happened. The left eye of the lingam began to bleed. Starting as a trickle, the bleeding became profuse and the whole eye seemed damaged. The priest was horrified. All his joy evaporated and he was convinced that this was an ill-omen. He felt that this happened because of the sinner who was defiling the temple every night. Instantly, he ran out of the temple and away from the forest with a promise never to step into the temple again.
At nightfall, Kannappa came into the temple. The same sequence of events followed. But when Kannappa noticed the bleeding eye, he was overcome with severe pains of empathy. He went into the forest and fetched some medicinal herbs to apply to the bleeding eye. All his efforts were to no avail as the bleeding continued relentlessly. In what could be considered as great bravery, supreme devotion and, a primitive transplant surgery, Kannappa plucked one of his eyes out with an arrow and placed it on the bleeding eye of the Shiva lingam. This stopped the bleeding in that eye of the lingam and Kannappa was very happy.
His joy was short-lived as, soon after, the second eye too began to bleed! This suddenly complicated matters for Kannappa, not because he was hesitant to give up his other eye but because he thought that if he were to pluck his other eye too, he would become blind to exactly know the spot of the bleeding eye of the lingam! And so, he placed his big toe on the bleeding eye as a marker and was about to plunge the arrow to gouge his second eye. At this point, Lord Shiva appears and stops him from blinding himself.
Needless to say, Kannappa was made wholesome in body, mind and, spirit. From that day onwards, he has been worshipped as a Nayanmar saint.
Countless times Sri Sathya Sai Baba has stressed on the fact that the Lord is Bhaavapriya and not Baahyapriya. This translates into the Lord being a lover of feelings and not the one interested in the show that is put on. The priest and the hunter were both equally dear to Him. And so, He showed Himself to both! But, the uncivilized, defiling hunter evidently had greater love for the Lord as he was ready to give up even his eye for the Lord’s sake. His Lord mattered to him more than himself.
Morale of the story, dear children –
We are ready to offer so many things to the Lord. We are ready to make sacrifices – food, water, comforts. But are we ready to give up this ego – the ‘I’ that we hold so dear to ourselves? The story shows that the instant we give up the ‘I’, the Lord manifests and makes us wholesome in every sense.
In fact, Sri Sathya Sai Baba says ‘giving up the ego, which manifests as an attachment is the only way to liberation’.
I’m glad to share with you the feature and promotion of my work by Jocelyn Kay, editor and curator of Edge of Humanity Magazine in their New Year 2025 first issue
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 