Swan Song - Sandeep Dutt

#JoyOfLearning #MyGoodSchool #HappyTeachers #SchoolsCanChange #WherePassionMeetsEducation #DilJeeto #BrewingKnowledge and all the hashtags of my life!

Life Of A Guitar - Rishona Chopra

The guitar shop is one of the most delightful places for me. I feel the most calm and composed here than anywhere else. The shop is my happy place.

The fragrance of the wood of the guitars, the lavender incense that fills the shop brings over me a rather unique feeling that makes me feel like I should never leave and luckily I don't think I ever will.

Every day in the shop is the same and yet I never get bored. Though I don't interact with other guitars, I have never once felt as if I were alone; perhaps because I am always surrounded by books of all sorts. The owner of the shop knows I adore reading books, and so she lends me a novel to read each week. If there’s anyone I talk to, it would most definitely be the owner. A quite heartwarming and charming person indeed!

My fellow guitars often wonder how lonely I must be but being alone isn’t being lonely and definitely not when one has books by their side.

I have always thought about how I came to where I belonged, not as a human(they’re too complicated!), not as an animal(I have no interest in being eaten) but as a guitar, the most peaceful and humble of things.

As I write today, I see a young girl enter the shop. Not many customers come by these days since people have started forgetting the power of music and would much rather listen to it than play it. It most definitely was a surprise when I saw a youngster with such passionate eyes enter the shop. I couldn’t help but look at her and see which guitar she would choose. After a few minutes of observing her, I drifted back to my own world but was woken up by the sound of music. The girl was playing me! This could only mean one thing: she wanted to buy me and I would have to leave my happy place. Soon, my suspensions were proved correct and I knew I was being taken away. Oh, how miserable life can be!

On the journey to my new home, I drifted back to sleep but was soon woken up by a jerk and realized it was time. Though I love being a guitar, the only thing I dislike is not having legs. This would be quite useful in times like this. It’s surprising how envious I feel of humans right now.

It was hard to believe that I was really here, away from the shop, in a strange place with who knows how many books. I finally realize how hurt and confused Dorothy must have felt in The Wizard Of Oz. I felt like turning back but I knew I had to face these terrible times eventually.

The girl took me out of the car seat with delicate hands and took me to her room. Her house was modest and beautiful but her room was mesmerizing. It was minimalist and yet so aesthetic and captivating. Knowing I would be kept in a place like this, did make me feel a tad bit better.
She placed me on a guitar stand. It was quite comfortable and more importantly a flattering gesture. Take this advice from me, if you have a guitar, you better know how to treat it well. Nothing is more dangerous than an upset guitar. The very unique thing about guitars is that you can't hear them talk but if you listen closely and have a passionate mind for music and an extraordinary dedication, then you can feel us and hear our thoughts.

It had been a long time since someone played on me so it hurt a little in the beginning but it got better. In the midst of this, I noticed how the girl had a unique collection of books. It had many that I hadn’t read before. I had the urge to grab it and start reading but how could I, the girl couldn’t understand me.

At that very moment, the girl grabbed a book, wrote a note on it kept it in front of me and left. Could she understand me? Or was she one of those queer people who devoted their life to mind-reading guitars? I read the note and much to my surprise, it said: “I can understand you”.

Let me be very honest here, knowing that someone can hear your thoughts, isn’t the most comforting thing. It’s rather creepy and absurd. I was instantly regretting coming here but how could I leave this exquisite collection of books?

Despite having a lot on my mind, I continued reading the book she handed me. After a while, she passed me a few notes telling me about books she had read and some of them were my favourites! We talked for hours about books and music and I had never felt so alive. Perhaps coming here wasn’t so bad.

Through this experience, I realized, that change is constant, and it’s always hard to adjust to a new beginning but every cloud has a silver lining and each place has its good sides, and the good sides are what one needs to focus on.


Rishona Chopra
Grade VIII-B
Gyanshree School

Reflections for today's meeting - Tenzin Chonzom

Sunday School 24th December 2024

We watched a video of an American woman who is 92 years old and an advocator of social justice, an incredible woman who encouraged me and taught me that it's never too late to start something.

•⁠  ⁠Having an extraordinary meeting with Amardeep sir was the most significant opportunity I had; with the help of his advice, a lot of things struct my mind

The following are:

 1.⁠ ⁠Not to follow a passion; create your passion.

 2.⁠ ⁠Never chase recognition (you'll not achieve anything). Create your content.

 3.⁠ ⁠Keep trying many things because we don't know the emergence.

 4.⁠ ⁠Everything in life is a means to an end, and there will be a chance to excel.

 5.⁠ ⁠Religion is a subset of legacy.

 6.⁠ ⁠Dreams are supposed to be filled with challenges and obstacles.

 7.⁠ ⁠Learning is feet for every individual.

Amardeep sir, In his documentary, The Tapestry of Guru Nanak:

I highly appreciate his hard work of 30 years and self-discovery. His interest in going to every risky area shows his passion and bravery.

My takeaway from this meeting is that he motivated me through all situations 🙏.

Tenzin Chonzom (Girl) from 9th grade 
Pestalozzi Children's Village India

A visit home - Aati Pema Tseagon

Picture Courtesy: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/AauyxzXZpvdywUpwLlxqKvXBDcUltP2AVoiEG2mXDCRrU0Fqif6MyM8/

A wind blew past my face, giving me shivers down my spine.

After nearly escaping death, I was still haunted by a daunting sensation which held my stomach tight. Since I wasn't bound, I could swim freely. So I dove right back into the waters. Moving my hands over the rough cement floors, I occasionally opened my eyes to find my cousin. 

He was with me when I returned for my bottle, and since I found myself here. I could not make myself think that he was there as I had almost drowned in my escape. But, since no one resurfaced with me, only the worst could have happened if he was down here. 

After five dives, I felt exhausted. Without any rest, my limbs complained of their state. I had now covered the whole tank floor and found nothing except the rubbles. With my search completed, I emerged out of the waters. 

I saw it was still early, and as I climbed out of the tank, I was again back in the world I knew the forest. But my anxiety had not gone. And now that I was out, another adrenaline dose rushed through my body. I ran as fast as I could, traversing the path as quickly as possible with my tired legs. But after a while, I had to rest. My legs fell beneath my body as I leaned against a trunk, my body shook, and I had to sit down. 

For the first time, I saw my state - my whole body covered with bruises and gashed with cuts. My wrists were bleeding from the slight tears, but I was immune to all the pain by then. As I again got up, something felt wrong, not with my body but as if I was being watched. 

I scanned over my shoulders; seeing no one there, I continued running until I reached the road. I came up with a weird sense of relief as I got out of the forest. The trees were quiet, with no noise from the birds or the languors. It made an eerie silence broken only by the sound of my footsteps and the few cars which came by. I stopped on a bike for a lift to Charles Valley. 

From there, I got off to walk the rest of the way. I hoped to see my cousin at home and my parents asleep, but as soon as I came in front of my house, my mother came rushing down, calling my name. I told myself I was in for a good smack right then and there. But something weird happened. 

My mother hugged me, and as I looked around, confused, I saw my cousin coming out, which made me feel a lot better. I wanted to ask what happened, but before I could, my mother asked me where have I gone? I told her about the whole exploration but left out what happened afterwards as I did not want to bring it up. 

My cousin had been looking at me. He said he had not gone with me till the tank. As I suddenly disappeared from beside him. This left me with more questions than before, but I felt that it was somehow related to the eerie feeling I had gotten before. 

I never told anyone what happened to me and what I felt, but since then, I haven't gone into the forest for explorations, and until now, no one knew of this place. I continued my life as it was before, I still feel an urge to explore what had happened then since it's still a mystery for me, and maybe it's better to be left it that way.

Aati Pema Tseagon

Pestalozzi Children's Village, India.

One kind word can do a lot - Aria Gupta

Picture Courtesy: https://janbeek.blog/2019/11/16/one-kind-word/

There was a beggar who lived on the streets of Gronwice City. He always wanted to start a business of his own, but never believed he could do it at such a low position with no money. Life just went by as normal, people gave him a few pennies, out of which he bought some food and slept on the streets.

One day, a woman came by. And she stared at him for a while. The woman approached him and asked, “What do you want to become?”. “I know it seems stupid, but I want to start my own business,” he replied. “I’m Enara Jain, and I work at the Poltine Charity. Get up, let’s take you to my office.” The beggar, baffled, followed her to her car, and went on a ride.

He soon realised that this was no ordinary charity at all. “So you wanna become a businessman, huh?” she asked. “Yes, it’s a stupid thing to think of, but I still dream of it”, he replied. “What if I told you that you could become one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I would love to, but it’s just out of my reach.” replied the beggar.

They soon reached Enara’s office. It was the first time he sat on a proper couch in years. It was a strange feeling. He wasn’t used to the comfortable environment. Then Enara, offering him a glass of water, sat in front of him and asked a few questions as if she was taking his interview. The beggar was quite nervous while answering those questions.

The last question was “Do you believe that you can become a founder and start a business?”. It was the question that scared the beggar the most. “Ummmm… I don’t think I can.” was his reply. “After that, Enara went somewhere. She soon came back, smiling while carrying a cheque. “We’ll be donating 10,00,00,000 Rupees to you, Mr…?”. “Jones,” replied the beggar, delighted about the fact that he was finally about to have some money in his bank account.

“Let me tell you one thing, which is that you can become an entrepreneur. If you save this money, you can surely become one”, said Enara. Mr Jones thought for a while, thinking about what to do with this money. He decided to spend some money and save some money.

10 years later, the fashion company 'Swaniskin' was more successful than ever. The beggar, now one of the most successful entrepreneurs in the world, was happy that he was able to work hard to achieve his dream. His rags-to-riches story is one of the most inspiring things in the world.

*(Note: None of these people, places, companies, etc are real)

Aria Gupta

Grade VI || Gyanshree School

People are more important than things - Aria Gupta

Reflection from Sunday School

Dear Readers,

From now on, I’ll be writing most blogs through short stories. I took this decision because I believe stories can share a message and captivate the reader at the same time. Feel free to give feedback in the comments. 

Here’s the first story:-

Amongst the mountains lived a young girl named Nidhi.

She had heard of a precious stone called 'Diranma'.

It could give powers to the owner and strengthen them in some way. Nidhi had been fascinated with the stone ever since she heard about it. One day, she told her parents, “Mumma, Papa, I want to look for Diranma!”. “Are you out of your mind!” exclaimed her mother. “It’s too dangerous, sweetheart,” said her father.

She didn’t listen to her parents. At midnight, she woke up and packed a sack containing five loaves of bread, two apples, some cashews, some water and a sleeping bag. She ventured out in the dark. After walking for a few hours, still determined to find the stone, she found herself in a forest.

There, she encountered a hunter and asked, “Do you know where Diranma is?” She asked, hoping he’d know the answer. “I do, but I advise you not to look for it. For I once was like you, looking for the precious stone. The consequences make the action hard not to regret,” he stated. “Please, I’m desperate!” begged Nidhi. “Since you want it so bad, I’ll give you a map, but never say I didn’t warn you”, said the hunter as he searched his pocket and gave a folded map leading to the stone. “Thank you so much!” exclaimed Nidhi as she took the map and opened it immediately. She followed the directions and walked for hours before munching on a loaf of bread and drinking some water.

 

Days went by, and she still hadn’t reached the gate leading to the stone yet. She was almost out of supplies. Soon, all her hard work paid off as she saw a beautiful gate. “Finally!”, she exclaimed at the sight of it. There stood a guard, watching her. He approached her and stated, “You need to pay one-third of your soul to enter. It will be paid back to you if you leave this gate without the precious stone, Diranma.” She thought, "I’m only giving one-third of my soul, not much." “Okay, but how do I give it to you?”, she asked. “We will take it ourselves.” stated the guard as he strangely moved his hands, chanting some prayer. As soon as his ritual ended, Nidhi felt less excited about the stone. “Thank you.”, she said as she went inside the gate and walked for a few minutes.

Soon she saw an overflowing river that was too deep. She didn't know about swimming. Fortunately, she saw a fisherman sitting on his boat with a fishing rod in the middle of the river. “Can you please drop me off the other side?”, she asked. “You’ll have to give me one-third of your soul. I’ll give it back if you come without Diranma.”, the fisherman stated. ‘I’ll still have one-third of my soul left’, she thought and agreed to pay one-third of her soul to the fisherman. “All right”, he said. He rowed to the side where Nidhi was and told her to get on the boat.

Nidhi was feeling less excited about the stone than ever. She hopped on the boat and soon reached the other side of the river. She saw a huge palace. A guard was standing, so she approached him and asked, “Can I enter this palace?” “You will have to pay a quarter of your soul.”, stated the guard. She cared the least at this point and just gave it to him like it was nothing but a piece of wood. The palace doors opened just like that. Nidhi found her curiosity strained about how it opened. She just walked in. There was The Diranma, placed on a huge table. But the remaining part of her soul rejected it. It longed for her parents, her friends, and her family. She thought for a while and headed back without the stone. She got all the pieces of her soul back. And when she reached the guard, he said, “I will teleport you back to your home now!” “Huh?”, Nidhi exclaimed.

But before she knew it, she was home with her parents. She hugged them tight and shrieked, “I missed you. I missed you a lot!” Her parents, eyes filled with tears, replied, “We missed you too!” “I went looking for the stone, but it was not worth it!”, said teared up Nidhi. She learnt that her loved ones were more important than any other stone in the world.

Written by-

Aria Gupta

Grade VI

Gyanshree School

Sharpening Your Saw - Aati Pema

Sharpening Your Saw

This is the original artwork, and we hope you will appreciate the effort. 

Aati Pema

Pestalozzi Children's Village India

Quaint Little Bookshop - AI Chatbot

A short story
This is fiction, and any resemblance to any character or persona is just by chance; we did this to test an AI Chatbot and see how we could draft a story for a book. Shmooz AI is a WhatsApp bot based on GPT 3 model from OpenAI. 

Once upon a time, a quaint little bookshop was tucked away in the heart of Dehradun called The English Book Depot. It was owned by a young woman named Millie, who was passionate about books and deeply loved the English language.

The shop was small, with shelves of books overflowing onto the floor. It was a cosy place, with a warm ambience and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Millie would often host readings and discussions at the shop, inviting people to come and share their thoughts on literature.

One day, a young writer named Rohan stumbled upon The English Book Depot. He had been struggling with writer's block for months and desperately needed some literary inspiration. He wandered through the shelves and soon found himself lost in the pages of a novel.

As he sat reading, sipping on a cup of coffee, Millie started conversing with him about the book he was reading. That conversation led to a friendship and eventually blossomed into something more. Rohan and Millie bonded over their love of literature and spent hours discussing their favourite books at the shop.

Over time, Rohan began to write again, finding the inspiration he needed within the walls of The English Book Depot. He even published his first novel, which Millie proudly displayed on a shelf in the shop. People would come from all over the city to visit the little bookshop, drawn in by Millie's welcoming vibe and passion for literature.

Years passed, and though the shop remained small, it had become a beloved fixture in the community. Millie continued to inspire people with her love of books, and The English Book Depot remained a haven for writers, readers, and literary enthusiasts alike.

Fun exercise, Shmooz AI and Grammarly work in tandem to put together this story!

Disclaimer: This post is purely for fun and a chatbot experiment. Please read as a piece of fiction, and the blogger and the authors take no responsibility for the content or the language generated via the AI Chatbot.

A brief history of our time - The English Book Depot at 100

Best is quite unreal, as better is the only way ahead! This debate about rewards, awards, and PR is never ending and will raise many hackles. The only single truth is there is no more immense exhilaration than the #JoyOfLearning - reading, writing and speaking.

Back from the Hyderabad Literary Festival, I am convinced that stories alone make us, and we are a story! We had storytellers, booksellers, librarians, artists, activists, sponsors and young people. A beautiful milieu to spread the joy of reading. Books in print, digital form, oral rendition and choreography. We are celebrating 100 💯 years of the Bookstore and have set up a social space above the Bookstore. The Learning Forward India Foundation works to support schools and schooling with reading, writing, speaking and learning. 

#MyGoodSchool My Good School - above The English Book Depot at Dehradun, visit this social space when you visit the city next city.

A brief history of our time

100 Years of The English Book Depot, opened at Ferozepur in 1923, moved to Dehradun post partition of India to finally call it curtains down at Ferozepur in 1989 when we exited. The place was then filled in by one of our long-serving stalwarts at the bookshop Sh Kewal Ji, who decided to run it for his family and livelihood as Kewal Book Depot at the exact location.

Message from respected Lila Dhar Dewan to Sandeep Dutt.

Your eldest uncle and my eldest cousin, the late Sh. Rattan Lal and I had decided to open our book shops in Dehradun and Pathankot, respectively. So we both selected books for our shops in 1948 from The English Book Depot Ferozepur Cantt on the same day. Both the parcels were booked by train the next day. My younger brother Radha Krishna had joined Army and, as such, was to stay far away from us. I would name my shop The English Book Depot as that would have benefited me financially. However, I sacrificed my financial benefits by calling my shop Krishna Book Depot so that his name remained with us throughout our lives.

Late L. Narain Dass, the founder of The English Book Depot, was a native of Jampur District Dera Gazi Khan, situated in the southwest end of Punjab (now in Pakistan) on the other bank of river  Sindh. A vegetarian wearing a simple dress of kameez pyjamas and enjoying a simple life. He was fond of taking fruits. Always baskets full of various kinds of fruits were there in his house. He was not only the founder of The English Book Depot Ferozepur Cantt and ran the shop to earn but made it a training centre in BOOK TRADE. He used to call youth from his native town and get a room on hire for their stay. He stood guaranty with the hotel for payment of their bills for the food taken by the trainees.

There was a small sale of school textbooks only at that time. Very few Indians read other kinds of books, such as novels etc. The customers of general types of books in English language only were British soldiers stationed at various cantonments all over India. Hence scope and demand for bookshops to sell such kinds of books were in Cantonments only.

Late Lala Narain Dass Ji used to select a cantonment for his trainee. He should have done so to earn money permanently from them by importing books from the U.K. to supply those to bookshops. But he was providing them with the supplier's addresses. He stood as a guarantee with the suppliers for the payment of their dues. Thus natives of Jampur spread all over India and established their bookshops. Later, such shops were opened in cities such as Lucknow, Kanpur etc.

All of them are financially sound and enjoying respectful life in their cities. The members of the third generation of the founders of those shops are running all those bookshops. I am skipping names of towns and cantonments for want of space. I was his last student learning book trade under him at his shop. Not only that. He kept me in his house, showering his (and my Massi jee) blessings, love and affection at par with their children. I opened my shop at Pathankot in December 1948 when The English Book Depot at Dehradun was also opened.

I knew Massan ji resigned from his Govt job in Lahore and founded The English Book Depot Ferozepur Cantt in 1923. However, I need to find out the name of the book depot. He learnt the art of book trade and got addresses of suppliers of these in U. K. as I needed help finding the name of any bookshop in North India during those days. He during his later age engaged himself in the service of humanity through Arya Samaj. He was honoured as the permanent President of Arya Samaj Ferozepur Cantt and Manager of Arya School Ferozepur Cantt. Smt Snehlata has been the humane face of the bookshop for over 50 years.

Shri Narain Dass had another quality and far-sightedness. He ensured Jampuri booksellers were financially sound and enjoyed a monopoly in his business at his station. He did not allow his trainees to open his bookshop in Cantonment, where a Jampuri was already running his bookshop. I felt proud of being one of the Jampuri running their bookshops in Cantonments all over India. I used to tell Army officers who were liable to be transferred to some other Cantonments someday by telling them that I could make them an astrologer. Please visit a bookshop in that Cantonment. Ask the owner to show his palm to you. On having a look at it, tell him the following. The owner of this shop is a Jampuri. He received his training in this trade at The English Book Depot Ferozepur Cantonments. The owner of the shop would give you a surprising look!

Courtesy Lila Dhar Dewan, my father Dev Dutt's first cousin, has showered his immense blessing on us.

The writer Sandeep Dutt is an author, School Improvement Coach and third generation at The English Book Depot.

Best Bookstore Of 2023 by Food4Thought Foundation at the Hyderabad Literary Festival.

The Diary Of A Paper - Rishona Chopra

Dear Diary,  

I hope you have a day full of colours and joy because I do not have one! I was being made in the factory just yesterday, enjoying my life and relaxing until they put me in the suffocating packing of plastic. Goodness, it is so difficult to breathe; I think I might die!! I can't wait for someone to buy and get me out of the suffocating packing. Oh, there goes a customer! Yes, you please do pick me up!! And yes, that little girl achieved quite a difficult task, didn't she? 

________________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

I am out of that plastic packaging, finally!! It's a day to celebrate and enjoy. That young girl is so lovely. She even threw that plastic packaging in the dustbin! I bet she understood my pain and threw him as punishment. I can't wait to draw and paint with those bright colours. 

________________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

It's been two days, and the girl hasn't put a single stroke of colour on me. She just comes to look at me, draws a little and goes away. At least, she should place me in front of a mirror so I can see what she is making on me. I learned a few things about her - She has a family, one sister and two brothers. The girl's name is Lily, and her brothers' names are John and Alvin, just like Alvin and the chipmunks! The brothers are naughty but cute. Her sister's name is Sara, and she is truly a sweetheart! Seeing her just makes my day. I hope Lily is creating a masterpiece for me; I am missing the beauty of those colours!

________________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

It's been about 6 days, and she has finally put a little colour on me. Her painting should be good after all that waiting I did. I pray every day that she puts me in front of a mirror. I really want to see myself!

__________________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

Sorry, I haven't written to you in a while; I have been swamped. Turns out, the girl did make a masterpiece. I am in the museum of arts, and several people look at me and embrace my beauty. I am famous now! This was quite a journey from plain paper to a masterpiece. One thing I learnt on the trip was that patience is always beneficial. Life is a journey. Every day has a different beat to it. Life unfolds itself. It's a journey we can't force.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rishona Chopra
Grade VI
Gyanshree School

The Right Vision - Rishona Chopra

In Chinese folklore, there is the story of an ambitious young man who, on his twentieth birthday, became consumed with the desire to change the world. He spent the next 20 years trying to do that but couldn’t. At age 40, he settled for trying to change China. He spent the next 20 years trying to do that but couldn’t. At age 60, he settled for trying to change his village. For the next 20 years, he tried to do that but failed. At age 80, he decided to focus on changing his family. He spent the next 20 years trying to do that but couldn’t. At age 100, he decided to focus on changing himself. But the next day, he died.

We often try to change the world and others according to us, but we never try to change ourselves. But why? Because it is easier. It is easier to find faults with others, but it is difficult to

change ourselves.

Rishona Chopra

Grade VI

Gyanshree School

A Story Is Never Born Before Its Time - Panchami Manoo Ukil

"A story is never born before its time". - an old saying.

Once its time has come, nothing can hold it back. For the last four or five years, my husband and I had a conversation about writing this story at the beginning of October. However, the conversation never progressed to writing it down, maybe because its time had not yet come. We have not spoken about this year, but the story has decided it is ready to be told. In December 1997, almost twenty-five years ago, I was in my eighth month of pregnancy and was to go to Bhubaneswar for delivery. My father had come to Delhi for work, and I was to travel back with him. Though I was all packed and ready to go, I had a sleepless night, wholly distraught and depressed. There was a reason. A Beagle puppy. One Sunday morning in September, we heard the whining of a dog close by. From the direction of the sound, I understood that it came from the house just across from ours. I opened our front door and looked out to see a puppy chained to the handrail of the external staircase that led into the flat. It was a tiny male puppy, scared, maybe hungry and utterly traumatised. It looked like a Labrador to me. Beside it was a halved shell of coconut containing water and another with some food that seemed like curd rice. I climbed up the staircase, removed the collar from the pup and picked it up. It was shivering with fright and simply snuggled into my neck. I took it home and fed it with some warm milk. The puppy lapped the milk, curled into my lap, and fell asleep in a minute.

Meanwhile, my husband had gone up to the flat and rang the doorbell. After almost five minutes, an elderly gentleman opened the door, looking somewhat grumpy. Perhaps the bell had woken him up from sleep. My husband told him their puppy had been crying for a long time. The gentleman was unperturbed and peered out the door to look at the puppy. My husband explained that since the puppy had been crying for a very long time, we had unchained him and taken him home. He had been fed and was sleeping. In the meantime, the lady of the house had come out. Hearing that the puppy was at our home, she seemed a bit disturbed, but my husband calmed her, saying we would bring the puppy back to them as soon as he woke up. She invited my husband to step in for a cup of tea. Over tea, my husband learnt that the elderly couple had been gifted the puppy by their son and daughter-in-law. The puppy had travelled by air all the way from Chennai and had been picked up from the airport by the couple. These were obviously first-time pet parents, so they appeared pretty baffled. The puppy had been indoors at night and had soiled the floor. The lady had felt so harassed that she had put him out early in the morning and was deeply regretting the entry of the puppy into their lives, but they did not wish to hurt the sentiments of their children by asking for it to be sent back. My husband returned home and updated me with these details. After a while, much against my wishes, we took the puppy back to its home. The lady was quite aghast to see that I was letting the puppy lick my face. The puppy was clinging to me and refusing to let go. I put it down with great difficulty and tied the collar and leash back around its neck. The lady told me to chain it outside again. I requested her to allow it to remain indoors, but she vehemently denied it, saying there was no one to clean up the soiled floors. Gently, I gave her a lesson on toilet training the puppy, but she said she had neither the energy nor the patience. Before I knew it, I had blurted out, saying that if it was okay with them, my husband and I would walk the puppy three to four times a day, enabling it to be toilet-trained. The couple was thrilled to hear this. I told them the only condition was that the puppy would remain inside the house. They agreed. That evening, my husband and I took turns walking the puppy. We would feed it with Cerelac, chicken and milk after the walks, and his owners were relieved that we were also taking care of its feeding. Over a few days, the puppy was almost toilet-trained. It began to whine to indicate that it needed to go out. The driver or the part-time house help of the owners would then take it for a walk. We had explained to the owners precisely what diet was to be given to the pup and had also introduced them to a vet. At night, however, my husband would take it for a walk every day and bring him to our home for a few minutes before taking him back home. The pup was named Toffee, and, as it turned out, it was a mixed breed of Labrador and Beagle. With my advancing pregnancy, I would notice the puppy's affinity towards snuggling into my belly. Sometimes it would put its ear to my stomach and then cock its head from side to side. It was strangely emotional for us as if Toffee had already found a way to communicate with our child. However, after a few days, we noticed the puppy again tied outside on the stairs during the day. The elderly lady could not trust leaving the puppy inside when she would go out, fearing that he might chew up the furniture or spill water. I was utterly distraught, the state of hormones of impending motherhood already playing havoc with my emotions. We told the lady that we were willing to keep the pup with us when she went out. She was happy to hear this but said she would take it back home when she returned. This became a regular routine, with Toffee spending more time with us than in his home. His owners were also more relaxed with this arrangement of informal joint ownership.

So, the night before I was to leave for Bhubaneswar, I suddenly felt panicky at the thought of leaving Toffee behind. I had seen the apparent disinterest in his owners who were simply tolerating his presence in their lives, keeping the sentiments of their children in mind, and, also, because we had chipped into a large extent in taking care of the dog. My husband and I had discussed the idea of me taking Toffee away to Bhubaneswar though we knew that his owners might never agree to this if we asked them. I cried all through the night, making my husband extremely worried. In the morning, we found Toffee tied outside on the stairs again, the proverbial last straw on the camel's back. I decided that I would be taking the dog home with me. I had no idea how to do that, but I had to do it. We called the Vet, who guided us on how I could carry the pup in the aeroplane cabin. With my weight and the bulk of pregnancy, I wondered how I'd have a seven-kilo puppy for a moment. But I was determined. We went out and bought a zipped bag on which we made holes. When we returned home, the pup was still tied outside. We rang the bell, but there was no response. I simply untied the dog and brought it with me. We fed it and then put it inside the bag to see if it fitted inside comfortably. It was perfect. We gave the pup its first dose of sedation prescribed by the Vet and left for the airport. Getting off at the airport, I picked up the bag and strode inside with supreme confidence. My husband was in a state of anxiety as he saw me off. I walked up to the check-in counter and said I needed to buy a ticket for my pet puppy. The manager at the counter did not bat an eyelid. The bag with the dog was weighed, and I was given a bill of Rupees Nine Hundred. The ticket was done. I was asked to open the bag and show the pup at the security check. The puppy was fast asleep, and I was allowed to pass. I'm sure most people around must have been aghast at seeing a heavily pregnant woman carrying a large bag, huffing and puffing, and looking absolutely hassled. Anyway, I saw my father walking into the boarding area with a few other colleagues after a while. I went to him and told him about the pup in the bag. The smile on his face vanished. I have perhaps never seen him more livid than he was at that moment. After giving me a mouthful on even daring to do something like that, he said to me that I was on my own on this and that I should not be expecting any help from him at all. I decided that having come this far, I would not relent to any pressure. Toffee, the puppy, had woken up and was moving inside the bag. I opened the bag and ruffled his ears. He looked at me sleepily and went back to sleep> When boarding was announced, I went ahead in the queue, showing both tickets. I got off the bus, carrying the bag, and the pup was absolutely still. I showed both the tickets and climbed the stairs into the aeroplane. At the entrance to the aircraft, the air hostess asked me what was inside the bag. I told her it was my puppy and I had a ticket for him. She told me the bulky bag did not seem to carry a puppy. I opened it and showed it to her, saying it was a Labrador pup. She said it was big enough to qualify as a dog and the captain's prerogative to allow its presence inside the cabin. She called the captain out. The captain was in no mood to let the pup remain inside the cabin. He was sceptical about him remaining calm in case of turbulence and said that I should get off the aircraft. I told him I had no choice now but to travel with the pup in my present state, as my husband had already left the airport after I had gone through the security check. I expressed profound helplessness, begging him to allow me to travel, assuring him that the pup had been sedated well and would not cause any problem. Most importantly, the bag was zipped up, so there was no way he could jump out. Finally, the captain agreed to let me in as we were causing a jam at the entrance to the cabin. He told the air hostess to allow me to place the bag at my feet.
As I walked into the aisle, I saw Shri Naveen Patnaik, Member of Parliament, in the first seat on the first row. I walked past, a tad embarrassed that so many people were witness to the discomforting state that I was in. I settled into my seat in the third row, not daring to look at my father, who was in the second row with his colleagues. I imagined his fury and embarrassment at the chaos I had created. I was, however, relieved that we were finally on our way. A minute later, the air hostess came to tell me that the first seat in the first row had been vacated by Shri Naveen Patnaik to accommodate me so that I could sit comfortably with adequate leg space for the bag. He had voluntarily moved to the last row. I was stunned and overwhelmed. Busy in settling into my seat, I had not seen the tall man walk by to the last row. I told the air hostess that I would like to go and thank the Hon'ble MP for his extreme kindness, but she said there was no way they would allow me to leave the puppy bag alone. She said I could thank him after we had landed. As I walked to the first row, I whispered to my father about what had transpired. My father told me – look at the inconvenience you have created! After all the day's drama, the journey was uneventful as Toffee, the puppy, slept throughout the flight. My mind, however, was focused on the empathy of the leader who had understood my state of distress. Living in Delhi, we hardly connected with Odisha politics, and I barely knew anything beyond the fact that Naveen Patnaik had taken over the mantle from his father. As soon as we landed, I was desperate to rush to the Hon'ble MP and thank him. Those days passengers would exit from the front as well as from the rear. I asked the air hostess if Mr Patnaik was still seated. She said that he had exited through the aircraft's rear door. With my dog in the bag, I was the last to get off the bus. I stepped onto the bus and looked around, but Mr Naveen Patnaik was obviously not there. He would have boarded an earlier bus. Getting off, I found my sister waiting for me. I handed over the puppy to her and asked if she had seen Naveen Patnaik. She said that she had seen him going out. I told her the entire story. My father said I could write a letter of thanks or meet him sometime later to thank him. Over the years, neither the letter nor the meeting happened. Over the years, as a family, we have reminisced about this incident time and again. Toffee lived for fourteen years in Bhubaneswar, adored and cared for in my parent's home. In the meantime, Shri Naveen Patnaik had become Chief Minister of Odisha. Two decades later, when I met the Hon'ble Chief Minister several times, it was no longer possible to engage in a personal conversation with him. I have repeatedly wanted to remind him about his huge act of kindness, but somehow I have held back. It is said that great men never hang on to their acts of generosity which is why I was apprehensive that he would obviously have no memory of something that had transpired ages ago. He expressed childish enthusiasm when I explained the Peregrine Falcon is the fastest creature on earth when it swoops to pick up prey. He chipped in with the scientific name of Palash when I presented him with a Palash sapling, requesting him to launch "Mission Palash" he narrated the story of a famous photograph taken on Children's Day in which he was seen seated on Pandit Nehru's lap, he has indulged the children of our school with the best chocolates and affection, and, of course, very kindly inaugurated our new school campus.

About three years ago, I was seated behind the Hon'ble Chief Minister in the aircraft. Throughout the journey, I saw him watching video clips of his pets, two playful beagles whose antics brought gentle smiles onto the face of the CM as he watched. In the last twenty-three years of his Chief Ministership, reams and reams of commentaries and opinions have been written about Shri Naveen Patnaik's personality and governance. As someone who has been personally impacted by his one act of kindness twenty-five years ago, I firmly believe that nothing about Naveen Patnaik is fake. His charm, enigma, stature and governance are his own, honest and original, deeply appealing to the masses. Most of all, his empathy is real. Small wonder then that he is the longest-serving Chief Minister and the No. 1 Chief Minister in the largest democracy in the world.

The story was published with the author's consent, Ms Panchami Manoo Ukil, and posted on Facebook on the 17th Day of October 2022. Panchami, is School Leader & Vice Chairperson, The DN Wisdom Tree Global School. Panchami Manoo Ukil is a school leader with a difference. Multifaceted, spirited, and dynamic, Panchami Manoo Ukil has an infectious positivity that reaches out to everyone around her. Passionate about children, she infuses the curriculum with her brand of original ideas, be it a celebration of our culture and roots, bonding with nature, or simply engaging with the little ones with a heart overflowing with love. She gathers everyone into a happy circle woven in with her brand of wisdom, warmth, affection and concern, an inspiration for many and a supportive motivator for the team.

THIS POST IS BY SPECIAL INVITATION.

Wisdom Tree School is not a part of the Good Schools Alliance. The story is all about the #JoyOfLearning.

The Story of A Spider - Diva Gupta

Greetings! Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you! I am a spider. I move from house to house, trying to build my web in a fixed location but these humans obliterate me. They wreck my home every time! 

I made a beautiful web once, attractive enough to win an a award. But then this human came and swiped it away with a broom like it was nothing! She almost killed me as I was sitting peacefully in my silk web. I swung on my silk thread to an open window and escaped. But not everyone is so destructive and mean. 

Most people are afraid of me. They think I am disgusting and throw me away like I’m some sort of trash. But no matter what they say, I’m living too! I have feelings, just like any other living being. I don’t know why they think my appearance is scary or why they run away when they see me in my comfortable silk web

Diva Gupta Grade VI Gyanshree School

The Friendship of the Oven and The Fridge - Rishona Chopra

Hello my friends! Oh wait, don't hug me just now, you see I am very hot, I might burn you and then you would never talk to me again. Well, why am I so hot that no one can touch me? I was born this way and I am not proud of it! I hate it, I need more coldness in life, I deserve to be colder and not warmer. Because of this very extra ordinary blessing, which is really not a blessing, I don't have many friends but I have one best friend and that is Fridge. Now this was my side of the story, let's hear it from Fridge!
__________________________________________________

Hey there! As you might have guessed, I am very cold and I truly need more warmth.Even though I am cold I do not have a cold heart but I very warm and caring one. It's lucky that our owners kept oven and me together. He gives me warmth and I give him the touch of coldness he needs. Our lives have been extraordinarily twisted but we made the best of it!

Fridge and Oven

The hidden truth - Reveda Bhatt

A secret, this six-lettered word might seem normal, but the problems and awkward situations created when it comes out a complex. It contains power, the power of inducing conflicts, so some say it's better if the painful reality is kept to ourselves. They exist in politics and in "the democracy of our nation." One such mysterious secret almost unfolded was the death mystery of "our almost Prime Minister" Subhash Chandra Bose.

It was in the year 1945 that he boarded an aircraft going to Taiwan. The plane stopped midway for a few hours, and when it took off, in the air, its elevator caught fire, and the plane crashed, which was the reported end of this leader's life. His funeral took place, but the remains weren't his, as claims suggest! But the Indian Government stated that it was in the truth, but as evidence suggests, maybe Prime Minister Mr Jawaharlal Nehru did not want the truth to come out!

Many cases about his death mystery were registered, but the Indian Government closed them when they nearly unravelled the secret. Pieces of evidence found suggest three theories. First, he died in a plane crash, but that is not true as the agency denied he crashed his plane, saying that such a plane had never crash-landed in Taiwan from where the incident was reported. The second one says that he changed his identity and lived in Uttar Pradesh as a saint mystic because his stuff had been found, such as the pair of spectacles he used, his books and articles. The third one suggests that he went underground to the public, which is proved by the photo of Mr Lal Bahadur Shastri clicked in Tashkent, years after his reported death. The secret was unravelling, though the Government did not want it to. Soon after this picture was clicked with Bose in the background, Lal Bahadur Shastri even died in a mysterious plane crash.

This was not an 'incident' but a murder, a trick played by our corrupted politicians who didn't want Mr S.C.Bose to come into power and become the next Prime Minister. These are all claims "we, the people", are not sure about, and under such circumstances, his death would remain a secret in the pages of files and continues to be a mystery in history!

- Reveda Bhatt 
Grade IX The Aryan School

Autobiography of a ghost - Rishona Chopra

Hey there! No, don't run away. I ain't gonna hurt you.

You ran away; that's the problem with these foolish humans. I just want to be friends with them. How come they don't understand that? 

I might be transparent, but I am gorgeous and have a heart of gold. Not to boast, but I am adorable. If only you waited and listened to me. You don't know how sad it is to be a ghost, no one wants to talk to me, and all are afraid. I feel so alone. My only friend is a book. Her name is "How a ghost became my friend". She is my only friend and my only family. I genuinely wish I had a human friend. There are advantages of being a ghost too. You can run super fast and never feel hungry, which is a good thing because I don't want to be hungry. People say I hide under their bed, but trust me, I just stay in your room so that you become my friend.

By any chance, would you like to be my friend?   

Ghost

My Life - Mrs Elephant

Hello there! It's me, your favourite one - Mrs Elephant. So let me tell you more about myself and my family. I am beautiful, prettier than most people. I have 14, no 17, actually 25 children. Adorable children with big ears and legs and those who fight a lot. Don't even get me started about the things they do. When I go to the store, they create a complete mess. I select some decent clothes for them, but they are so fussy that they want to buy a dress that doesn't even fit them! Do you understand how difficult it is for me? Now enough about my naughty children; let's talk about me.

Besides being the best mother and prettiest, I am a writer and a doctor. I work 24 hours daily and am swamped, so you must not ask me too many questions because I simply don't have the time to answer them. I am excellent at playing games, especially Sudoku and Crossword. I also dream of having an extensive library, which I suppose will come true someday. If you are looking for a job, then come to me. I will surely give you a fantastic job babysitting my children. It will surely help a lot.

Rishona Chopra 
Grade VI 
Gyanshree School

The Art of Storytelling - Rishona Chopra

Storytelling ain't something everybody can do,

You need some content and rhythm too!

A little music with some effects,

Everything should be set and perfectly correct.

Just add some feelings,

The story could be lovely, so it works like healing!

Just add some voice modulation and thought,

So it stays in people's minds as if it was taught.

The story could have a moral,

Or a quarrel.

All you need to do is hook the audience,

By being a little more patient!

Like in a movie theatre where people feel the water splash,

Hook them with your words, so they clap with a clash.

Make people feel like they were in the story

Make them feel all happy with glory.

The fundamental trick is just to feel the theme,

And the story will come out like a beautiful dream!

Along with storytelling, we need to be good listeners too,

We need to understand the story and try our best to reflect too.

If you know how to tell a story,

Make one yourself and tell me the story quickly!

Rishona Chopra
Grade VI
Gyanshree School

The Worm I want to be: Story Reflection - Anusha Jain

My reflection from the story Ignorance, Evolution and Avatar

After reading this beautiful story about enlightenment and awakening, I think most people would want to be like the last group of worms which grow wings and fly away from the canal, those yogis, saints and sages who raise beyond the belt of ignorance to the supreme freedom of spirit.

It is wiser to first be the initial group of worms who represent the first stage of ignorance, those who cross the physical and vital evolution phase and rise to the higher mental being and live content and satisfied. It is because we live in a world where we run an endless rat race and chase after money.

We are told to make a promising career and think about our aspirations. So, practically, if we can become like the first group of worms, we would be able to decide about our future in a better way whilst living up to society's expectations. By doing so, we would be able to help other people attain enlightenment and make a difference.

Anusha Jain, X-D
Ahlcon Public School
I am very fond of reading; Harry Potter is my favourite series.

The worm I want to be - Rishona Chopra

 I want to be a worm who grew wings and flew away from the canal.

They didn't think they were more extraordinary because of little light but tried to attain peace and freedom and did not let pride and ignorance touch them.

The first group of worms represents the first stage of evolution in ignorance. They are those human beings who have crossed the physical and most crucial phase of evolution and risen to the consciousness of the higher mental being. The second group of worms represents the next stage of evolution in which human consciousness or the mind opens itself to a higher light beyond the rational mind and receives intuitions and inspirations from it but still lives within the world of ignorance. 

The last group of worms which grow wings and fly away from the canal are those human souls who proceed further and rise beyond the belt of human mental ignorance to the supreme freedom of the spirit. 

I want to be like the last group. That person who would raise beyond the belt of human ignorance and go beyond the sky. In the wheel of life, I want to be free from suffering and desire like Buddha. All stages represent the worms, and in the end, the first two stages still desire more and live in human and mental ignorance.

I want to be like the last group who open their wings and fly in the spiritual world with a smile.

Rishona Chopra 
Grade VI 
Gyanshree School