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    What was your most wondrous and edifying tale narrated to you in your childhood?

    Let us recollect our childhood days on Children's Day. Well, those days were really fascinating and even the children today are more acquainted with their grandparents than their parents. Flocking together around Grandma or Grandpa, listening to their wondrous and edifying tales was really a scintillating experience. Now, let us share here one of the Grandma stories that have inspired you.

    Share your favourite story as a response to this thread only and don't post any separate thread. All the response entries would be awarded depending on their quality and the points & c.c is limited to 25 each. The maximum word limit for each story would be 450 and ensure that your response doesn't exceed the word limit. Only one response by each member would be considered for cash credits.

    Closing date to submit your story: 18th Nov'18.
  • #652993
    It was way back to 1960-65 when I was in class VIII and my younger brother was in class VI.

    My father was having a job and we were living in a rented house in a hilly town. Our village was 5 km from the town and my grandmother, a widow, lived there in our ancestral house. We had some agriculture land also in the village but the crop yield was little and it hardly suffice our basic food requirement for 3-4 months. Father used to take care of the village house and other management related to hiring of labour etc for agriulture work.

    During our school holidays and weekends, we were asked to go to the village to replenish the basic needs of grandmother like sugar, tea, oil, spices, snacks etc.

    Mostly I and my brother visited her but sometimes I went alone also on the serpentine pedestrian trek, crossing a 200-300 m cliff in between. There were no roads at that time and no electricity so people moved around with a torch in their hand especially during the night time. Due to rock rubble and stones the trek was rough and tiring but we usually took 1-1/2 hour to reach there. Generally we stayed there for at least 1-2 days.

    Grandmother always told us to travel in day time and avoid the late evenings and night. She told us that there was a ghost living in the side of the river down in the valley which had been driven away by one Pujari and the villagers and he fled from there and now living on the top of the cliff and as soon as the night sets in, he starts throwing stones downwards to hurt the passers by. She also told that there were cases in the past when some people were found unconscious lying on the path and were taken to hospital in the morning by the regular pedestrians commuting between village and town.

    This story at that time made such a fearful impact on our mind that we never dared to go there in night time.

    Quite later, we came to know that due to rains and weathering the occasional disengagement of stones and small boulders from the cliff and it's tumbling downwards were making big sound especially in the night and it was thought to be the act of that imaginary ghost.

    Knowledge is power.

  • #652998
    I met my Grandmother for the first time when I was 9 years old, and we were shifted to my Father's uncle house, who happened to be my Grandmother's first cousin. She moved from our village to a fast life bounded, city. She was 89 years old that time, and no doubt I had been listening to a lot of stories about her, that she married at the age of 13, and now after so many decades she moved. My Grandfather died a year prior to her shift.
    She used to sit quietly for a long time, and I had no connection with her. I used to play in the noon, used to make sand castles and continued climbing trees, cycling etc.

    One day, I was messing with sand and water, to make a castle. She slowly came out and gave me ideas to do the construction. She was smart in telling me where I went wrong. When we were done, she told me, that we need to give this castle a name. She then taught me, how to write few words in Urdu. It was new to me as I had never seen any language being written from the right-hand side. She told me all sorts of stories how she saved her home from being drowned completely in the heavy floods, how she learned to cook and make tasty pickles.

    It was a breath of fresh air, as she used to tell so many homemade remedies. She took care of me when I was struggling with stomach pain (as a kid I used to eat almost everything, which used to cost my health a lot). Unfortunately, I came back from my Holidays, and due to some family issues and disputes, I again lost touch from her. I was not allowed to talk about her and she was again targeted as a bad person. I was entering my teenage years and now, my thought process started to evolve. I realized it was important for me to believe what I feel is right and not what was told to me.
    I fought and went to see her last time, a few days before her death and it was one of the best decisions of my life.

    Iti Tyagi
    "Soar to Success"

  • #653002
    My Grandfather (Mother's father) was a very talented story narrator. We were spending many days with them especially during the holidays. Everyday night we used to sleep with him. He used to tell many stories. A story which was very fascinating to me those days is narrated below.
    Once upon a time, there were two brothers in a village. Elder brother's name was Raju and his wife was Rajani. They have 50 cows. Rajani was a spendthrift and she wastes money and material. She was not having the knack of managing the house properly.
    The younger brother was Mohan and his wife was Mohini. They were having just 5 cows only. Mohini was just opposite to Vimala. She used to earn money by selling milk and ghee.
    One day some relatives came to Raju's house. As there was no ghee in their house Rajani asked for a Kg of ghee on a loan basis. Mohini readily gave her 1 Kg ghee.
    Three months passed away but Rajani has not given back the ghee. Mohini asked Rajani to return the ghee or pay money for that. But Rajani said she never took any ghee from her. So Mohini went to the Village court.
    The Village court head called both the Ladies and enquired. Rajani said that she was having 50 cows whereas Mohini was having only 5 cows. But Mohini told that she has given and gave all the details. The court head heard their arguments and asked them to come to the court the next day morning at 10 AM.
    The next day morning the court head arranged to spread a lot of wet mud before the court. Nobody can come into the court avoiding mud. Both the ladies came to the court. The court head arranged one vessel of water to Mohini. He arranged a big bucket of water to Rajini. He asked both of them to clean their feet fully and come inside. Mohini washed her feet very carefully and thoroughly. Still, some water was remaining in her vessel. Rajini emptied the bucket but she was not able to clean her feet properly. Both of them came inside.
    The village head delivered his judgement. He told that Mohini was correct and asked Rajanito pay the money with interest and pay fine to the court for bluffing.
    The moral of the story my grandfather used to explain to us that how much money we have is not important but how careful in our spending is very important. Another moral he used to tell us is under any circumstances we should not tell lies and we should not take loans in life at any time.

    always confident

  • #653005
    I have not seen my grandparents. They left the world well before my birth. Same is true for my maternal grandfather. He also left the world almost 28 years before my birth. I saw my maternal grandmother (in Hindi, nani) at the fag end of her life. She also left the world when I was six.

    During her twilight years, she was almost blind. But among so many of her grandchildren, she liked me very much, the reason of which is unknown to me. Whenever I used to go to my maternal grandmother's place, she used to touch my face very affectionately and gave me sweets. She used to tell me to sleep beside her and at night she used to tell me stories. One of the stories told by her impressed me a lot. I still remember it. I am going to narrate this story.

    From her, I first heard about Sepoy Mutiny. This particular story is about that mutiny. There was a narrow lane near the mansion where my grandmother and my maternal uncles lived. This small lane was (and still is) known as 'bhooter goli' (lane of the ghosts). She used to tell me that the Britishers had killed many Indian rebel soldiers at Barrackpore (Mangal Pande, Eeshwari Pande of Bengal Regiment). She used to tell me that these dead soldiers used to come to Calcutta (the then capital) from Barrackpore on horseback to attack Fort William. A group of those ghost soldiers used to pass that particular lane. At night, people who were awake could hear their war cry and the sound of horses moving on the metallic road. My grandmother's description was vivid. I could very well picturise the entire scene in my mind's eye.

    My grandmother also told me that the movement of those ghost soldiers was abruptly stopped since 15th August, 1947 when India gained independence. Since then, nobody heard their voices. But the narrow lane is still known as 'bhooter goli' (lane of the ghosts).

    "If you are killed in action, you go to Heaven. If you win, you rule this Earth (as beautiful as Heaven). That is why, O son of Kunti, take a firm resolve and fight!"-- Shrimad Bhagwad Gita

  • #653105
    Everyone in childhood is excited to hear stories from the grandmother so was I. We used to go to our village in summer vacations and used to spend the whole 1.5 months. We used to be so excited to go to the village that we use to count the days remaining for vacations.

    My grandmother was an expert in telling stories. One of her stories was my favourite of a greedy king.

    There was a king, once he helped an angel and in return, an angel asked a wish. The king said that whatever i touch becomes gold, give me a boon. Angel gave her this boon. When the king went to his home, he touched stones and many other things which all converted in gold. He was so happy to see this and thought his kingdom will become the richest kingdom in the world if the things go like this.

    Meanwhile, her daughter came and sat in his lap and her daughter converted in gold. Seeing his daughter converted in gold he became sad and asked God to convert her daughter back. But his request gone in vain and she became a statue. The king now went in search of that angel but could not find her. Days were passing but he could not search that angel. He used to cry a lot seeing her daughter like this. He could not eat anything as that would have been converted in gold too. After a long search, he found that angel and repent for his greediness and asked her to return everything back and don't want that boon. Angel listened to her converter everything back and even his daughter too.

    Moral of the story is the greed of anything is not good. She also used to ask her that we should not have the greed of anything especially the money. Money is uncertain those who are rich today may become poor tomorrow or vice versa.


    " The two most important days in your life are the day when you are born and the day you find out why? "
    – Mark Twain

  • #653116
    At that time my age was hardly 13 years and we were living with our grandparents in a small town. As my father was in Govt service a quarter was allotted to him for the residence.

    Our grandmother was a very good cook and she used to prepare delicious dishes for us and we were always demanding for more and more.

    On our holidays in leisurely afternoons we used to sit with her and listen to various stories from her and were surprised to find that she always had a story for us.

    Now I don't remember them all but the following story narrated by her is still fresh in my mind.

    It was, when the grandmother was young and living in her village, that this incident happened. One saint with his disciple came to the village and stayed near the village temple. Villagers gave him much respect and offered food and other necessary items. The saint gave blessings to them and asked them to conduct puja in their respective houses which would bring in the prosperity. The saint also asked them to keep their jewellery, money etc in front of the deity so that the God is pleased and give them more gold in return.

    One day during such rituals the saint created a lot of smoke and and put something in the fire which created nausea and disorder in the house and in that mallee the saint and his disciple disappeared from the village along with the valuables. It was a big lesson for the villagers.

    This strange tale is still hanging in my mind teaching us that we should not believe the strangers even if they may be saints.

    Thoughts exchanged is knowledge gained.

  • #653158
    Every child likes stories and grandparents are always expert in telling fascinating stories on various topics. Listening to stories from the grandparents has a special attraction among kids and one of the reasons for preferring grandparents more. Every child has a particular fascination and likes to listen to those stories matching their interest. Since childhood I am interested to listen to the stories of ghosts and till now I find them interesting.

    I remember one story, not of ghosts but describing the courage of a woman of those times.

    There lived a brave woman in the village where my grandmother's ancestral home is located. At those days women were respected a lot and generally people never misbehaved with a lady. My grandma was very young at that time and the brave lady in her neighbourhood was middle aged. There was no electricity at the villages and people used to complete the daily chores mostly by evening. The source of light at home during night was mostly oil lamps or kerosene lamps. One such evening, most of the family members of that brave woman had finished their dinner and planning to go to sleep. Suddenly they heard a continuous knock on the door along with a loud and commanding voice of a man telling the residents to open the door. They understood that dacoits came to their house to loot everything. All the members were frightened and nobody dared to go near the door. The frequency of the knock increased and possibly the leader of the dacoits started shouting. Everybody was puzzled, but the brave lady came forward and suddenly opened the door. She blocked the entrance by stretching her arms at both sides and said to the dacoits to go back. The leader was very respectful towards women and pleaded with the lady to move aside. The leader raised his voice threatening all other family members but the brave lady shouted even louder saying that if they wish to enter the house they should kill her first. The leader of the gang was taken aback and ultimately they left the place.

    The story was really fascinating as it tells us to face any odd situation bravely without thinking much about the consequences. I was so impressed by the courage of that woman that I used to frequently ask grandma to repeat the story.

    Though nowadays this type of respect for women is almost nowhere to find but I salute the brave lady for facing the team of dacoits just to save her family.


    "Life is easier when you enjoy what you do"

  • #653160
    A story by my grandmother goes like this.

    "I was always told by my grandpa that 'annadhan' is the best kind of donation. But my grandpa left this world before he could explain me 'annadhan'. So I set out to search about it. Just yards away from home there was a mango tree that only yielded rotten mangoes. I hugged the tree for I felt bad for it. The tree confessed that it once bore the tastiest of fruits but never shared them with anyone. Hence it got cursed to bear rotten fruits. I consoled the tree and left for my quest. I was thirsty and saw a sea. I was about to drink the water but the sea warned me it's salty. Sea told me that whenever someone tried to drink its water, it would send waves backwards, never sharing water with them. Hence it was cursed to be salty. I consoled the sea and left for my quest. I saw a leper crying under a tree. When I asked the reason he said that he never shared his food with anyone. I consoled the poor man and left. I should have already learnt my lesson from those three. But the thirst for a quest blinded me. Before I knew I ended up in a jungle. Whilst walking among dry leaves, my leg got caught in a snare and I hurt my ankle. The hungry hunter who set the trap came for my rescue with his wife. Hunter healed me with herbs and offered me a rice ball to eat. There were only two rice balls. One for the hunter and one for the huntress. But hunter gladly gave up his meal for me, a stranger. It was dark so hunter suggested I stay for the night with them. We slept on a raised platform on a tree. When the morning Sun woke me up I and the huntress saw that the hunter had fell to death! There was not enough place on the platform so huntress, aiming to push me, had pushed the hunter to death. Huntress was exceedingly angry and drove me away. My quest ended not on a happy note. Hunter had taught me what 'annadhan' was. Few years later I found out that the prince of my country looked exactly like that hunter. He got reincarnated as a prince. Showing world the power of 'annadhan'".

    The stronger a light shines the darker are the shadows around it.

  • #653194
    I was in 5th STD and our next period was P.T(play time), this used to be the most awaited period for the whole week but since our subject teacher prior to PT started to continue with her lesson even during PT, we used to get so frustrated with her, so we used to dread the fact that we had a P.T class every Friday. Few times, I had even approached her to allow us to play during this class as this was the only time we used to get to play. But she would always ignore my plea.

    I was very frustrated by the fact that we could not enjoy our PT class ever. That weekend we planned to pay a visit to our grandmother. When we were at her place, I would tag along with her everywhere, though at times she would forbid me from going with her everywhere. That day I shared with her about our subject teacher, who hijacked our PT class. That's when she narrated this story to me.

    Once there was a farmer who had eight sons and these eight sons would always quarrel with each other. The farmer tried every way to resolve their differences, but they still fought. Once the farmer got very sick and was on his deathbed, he called all his sons to come along with a stick. Once they got in, he asked them to tie all the eight sticks together. After that, he called each of his sons, to come forward and break the bundle. But none of them could break it, then he asked them to unbundle it and told them to break it individually. They could snip it very easily. The sons looked at each other and understood what their father was trying to convey to them and since then, they never fought.

    My Grandmother narrated this story while picking up the dry wood and grass for the cattle's. I thought for a while as she continued with her tasks and suddenly I got an idea that could get us back out P.T class. That Monday when I got back to school, I wrote an application to the Principal and asked my classmates that if they could sign it. The application was signed by my entire classmates and then we submitted it to our class teacher who submitted the same to our Principal. That following week, when the school bell rang for PT class, our subject teacher said that she was done with her lesson and that we could go and play. We literally ran out of the class, fearing she might change her mind. So that's how I used my grandma's story to achieve something.

  • #653199
    Ours was a close-knit family, and I shared a special bond with both sets of grandparents. I contemplated narrating stories of the partition that they told me. However, I've picked a story that's close to my heart, narrated by both my grandmothers.

    Here is my story.

    A young couple got married in March 1958. The bride was very beautiful, and her husband affectionately called her Madhu, because she resembled Madhubala, the actress. They were truly made for each other.

    The wife soon became pregnant and days rolled into weeks, and weeks into months and soon the mother-to-be was in her third trimester. It was October and winter had set in. It was the evening of 28th October 1958, to be precise. The wife went into the kitchen to prepare tea. And as she pumped the kerosene stove, it exploded, setting her ablaze.

    By the time the husband could react, the fire had engulfed her torso, legs and face.

    The doctors said she had over 60% burns and she wouldn't survive the night. She lay on a net, suspended from the ceiling. She survived the night and the next day, and the day after. Each day the doctors would tell the husband that his wife wouldn't make it.

    This was 1958, the woman was pregnant with severe burns and medical facilities weren't the best. And yet, she lived, proving the doctors wrong, every single time. She battled on, never lost consciousness and the man never gave up. He reassured her of his love.

    Slowly, she got stronger and in December, delivered a healthy baby boy. It was a normal delivery, but she remained in the hospital for another 6 months, until she recovered completely. Following which she spent another 6 months in the hospital, for skin grafting and plastic surgery on the face.

    On the day of her discharge, the doctors carried the husband, in salutation, and commended him for his love and dedication towards his wife. They said, it gave the woman the will to live; it was a miracle.

    The woman credited her recovery to prayers and her belief in Christ. Those gave her courage and strength.

    Four years later, the couple was blessed with a daughter. And it is she who narrates their real-life story.

    Words are inexplicable to explicate what my parents experienced. I leave it to the reader's imagination to envision the pain, trauma and hard times that they endured.

    Their story is a lesson of love and the power of faith. I learnt young, that love can turn things around. I learnt young, that miracles happen. I learnt young that marriage is "for better, for worse, in sickness and in health".

    'A love affair with knowledge will never end in heartbreak' - Micheal Garrett Marino

  • #653202
    God played the dreaded death card of my paternal grandparents and maternal grandfather before my birth. I failed to spend much time with maternal grandmother because we resided in two different cities.

    This thread intrigued me to know the stories the grandparents usually tell their grandchildren, so I contacted my niece and nephew. They shared some stories which my father and uncle told them during their early childhood. While listening to the stories, I enjoyed like a child.

    Though it's not my personal experience, still I thought to share the stories just because it's after all between grandchildren and their grandparents. My nephew wanted to listen to stories, so my father told him a story. It was like this that there was a big granary full of grains. That granary had a small hole in it, and one day a sparrow entered through. The sparrow picked up grain with its beak and came outside that granary. Now, there comes a twist. My father kept quiet, and my nephew started asking what happened afterwards, but my father kept mum. After some time his grandfather told that let granary be empty and then the story will move further. Whenever my nephew enquired about the story, he received the same reply that granary was still not empty. My nephew is himself a father now but gave a good laugh while narrating it to me a day ago.

    An anecdote, I would share now, which is very interesting. It was told by my uncle, to my niece, long back when she was six or seven years old, and who is now a young girl.

    It was during the pre-independence era when my parental family lived in Dhaka. Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose visited the city and was travelling by an open car while he was on his way to address a rally. People of every age group thronged on the road to have a glance at the great leader so was my uncle who was not even a teenager, was walking just beside the car and had fixed his eyes on him. The great leader noticed it and kept on asking my uncle to move aside or else the wheel would trample his foot. My uncle told my niece that it was impossible for him to take his eyes off from Netaji because he was extremely good looking. When Bose was requesting him to move away, he wanted to admire his elegant look as long as possible because he did not want to waste even a single minute.

    Such stories are experiences of a lifetime. These are an asset for a generation to enjoy and learn, then gradually share them with the next generation.


  • #653203
    During my childhood, I often used to hear stories from my grandmother and one such story is as below.

    There was a wise man in some village who was known for his wit and people often used to remember him to solve their problems. Once in the village temple people had gathered for prayers. After the prayer session was over people were waiting for Prasadam and in the meantime, they started chatting with each other. Two neighbors started talking to each other about the weather. On seeing the cloudy sky one person said that it was going to rain while the other person challenged him and said that it would not rain. Both started giving their own justifications and ultimately the first person threw a bet at the second person and said that if it rains what the second person would give him? The second person was not interested to bet anything and he simply replied "Nothing". To his surprise, other person accepted it.

    Suddenly the rain started pouring and the second person knew that he has lost the bet but he was glad that he had not committed to giving anything. But to his surprise, the first person started demanding "Nothing" from him as the second person had said that he would give him "Nothing". The quarrel started between the two and first-person shouted and told all the persons present in the temple that the second person had promised to give him "Nothing" if it rained and now he is breaking his promise. The second person was wondering that how silly it was and how can he give Nothing to him, after all, it was not an object. As the fight continued people looked towards the wise man of the village and asked him to intervene and solve the dispute.

    The wise man came and told both of them that he would solve their problem. He then asked the first person that he would definitely get him "Nothing". He then asked him to go and lift the corner of the temple carpet and see what was beneath it. The first person curiously went and lifted the carpet and started looking. The wise man asked him what was there and the first person replied "Nothing" as he could not see anything underneath the carpet.

    The wise man said, Ok great! So there is "Nothing" under the carpet! I think you found what you were asking for. Please take that "Nothing" and go away and end this dispute. The first person was perplexed and speechless and he went away. The second person thanked the wise man for solving the dispute with his wit.

  • #653699
    Thank you everyone for your posts here and your narration of Grandma stories are unique in your own style. Cash credits with enhanced points are given here itself.

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