Little Arfa at The Railway Museum

Throughout my childhood, my parents used to take me to different exquisite places every Sunday. I have visited several museums in my life, but the most memorable one was The Railway Museum. I remember going to the railway museum twice or thrice in my life. It was that time before puberty when the world seemed bright and merry.

My first memory was riding the Jolly train with my parents, wearing my favorite pink sunglasses while enjoying a Lottie choco pie. I was obsessed with Lottie choco pie then, and it was a great coincidence that we both came into being in 2010. After the ride, we went to see the control station of a train. I was fascinated by the amount of levers and buttons there. 

Being a train driver must have been so cool! Then, we went to see the exhibits that were inside. On the way there, we came across a snake charmer with his dancing cobra. When the charmer played his pungi the snake slithered out of its jute bag and began dancing in a back-and-forth motion like it would attack us at any moment. I was so scared that we quickly moved on, so we couldn’t witness the whole performance. When we reached the exhibits, I saw all the parts of the trains and the different types of trains that ran in India. There were so many that I could easily say there were over a hundred. There were also miniature models of some trains. I looked at those tiny dummy trains wondering what the miniature people must be thinking seeing a giant with big, curious eyes spectating them in awe. 

Finally, it was time to leave. I remember that while leaving, I bought a big Shaka lakaboom-boom pencil which, I think, has a special place. It resides in every Indian’s heart

and has been a part of many people’s childhood.

Arfa Khan
Grade 9
Ahlcon Public School

Memphis Tigers - Akshar Bhasin

Cover photo: Akshar Bhasin with the Memphis Tiger

It's wonderous, really, how quickly a moment captured and stored away in a phone, when seen years later, can induce a rather long yet delightful walk down memory lane. One can think of memories like a spider web basking in the sparkling droplets of early morning monsoon dew. If he chooses, he can take a stroll down a string of the web, passing through those little dew drops of memories, but even when he reaches the end of that string, there is yet another one that commences. So on and so forth, memories connect and merge into each other, combining to create the 'past' of each individual. But, eventually and inevitably, as those dew drops are bound to vanish when when the sun comes up, we, too, forget these moments as time moves on.

But, today, as fate wills it (in my case a wonderful educator and friend did too), I shall reach into the unfathomably vast web of memory, and choose to stroll through one of those strings of web. Now, as I fade away from the present, moments and images flood into the screen of the mind and a movie begins to play.

The year is 2016 and I'm residing in the U.S.A, in the state of Tennessee. To be more precise, I was living in the University of Memphis campus area. I'm enjoying life though. Teachers see me as a 9 year old incorrigible Indian headache, but, frankly, I'm not aware about the strenuous concepts of societal expectations or self image or what-do-people-think-of-me. Or maybe I was but I was but just didn't care.

I was too annoying to be befriended by anyone at school, but I really never felt lonely. The company of books doesn't really ever let one feel alone. And gratefully, I had the Benjamin L. Hooks Memphis central library to refill my shelf with 25 different books each week. I could honestly go on about that piece of paradise for hours on the end but, I suppose that string of web is for another day.

- Akshar Bhasin is a student at Jodhamal Public School, he loves to read and this is his reflection for The Great Dreams from Jataka Tales.

Two Girls One Mic Episode 9

Learning Forward Podcast

Season 12 and Episode 9 are here yet again! 

‘These will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll all become somebody's mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. And in this moment, we are infinite.’

Isn’t it strange how quickly time flies? One moment, you are young and full of life, curious about everything and everyone. The littlest of things give you pleasure. Enter- the real world. We all tend to lose our quirkiness, love for life, and all the small things life offers. We work, and we run; we run as fast as we can to be the first, sometimes even losing ourselves on the way. Old age, however, gives us a second chance. It's a It's from nature. It allows us to revisit our childhood and experience human dependency at its best. 

Please listen to another mesmerising conversation shared by Simar and Oshi as they delve into the depths of childhood, old age, and life at their best. 

Feel free to leave comments as you join us in this hearty and engaging discussion. We would love to read them!

Hosts - Simar Kaur and Oshi Singh 

Listen to the most recent episode of our podcast: Two Girls One Mic Episode 9

Life in places - Aati Pema

Imagery Lunatic Laboratories

loonylabs.org

My memory was very feeble when I went there, but I will tell you what I still remember. On a calm summer afternoon, the air blew lazily, and the local dry fruits and vegetable sellers who had all settled down at early dawn were now taking turns looking after their produce while some went to rest in the comfort of stores. There was a restaurant on the store's second floor beside a highway; it was no special occasion. l had a holiday, and my mother took me to that place; the aromatic ambience of the restaurant reached me before I even got near the foot of the cold iron staircase. 

I held my mother's hand and took help in climbing the steep steps of the store. When we entered, there was no worry about not getting a seat as almost the whole hall was empty. The window curtains were translucent, letting light pass while giving it a reddish hue. We sat near one of the windows and ordered our lunch. My mother had a plate of fried noodles while I thought of having them boiled, which my mother protested, saying it's too hot to eat such food, but after a while, my mother let my stubbornness win.

We could hear the wind whisper through the open windows as we waited for the meal to arrive. I talked with my mother casually as I sat lost in other thoughts. Now it's a useless regret that I had not been there with my mother even though her life was on such a tight schedule, but my mother had given her well-earned moments with me. After I had left the restaurant then, I had not realized anything of such, but that place still hold those memories, and I am grateful to have them. 

Aati Pema
Pestalozzi Children's Village India