Grandparents' Bag of Stories Read online

  SUDHA MURTY

  GRANDPARENTS’ BAG OF STORIES

  Illustrations by Priya Kuriyan

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Contents

  Preface

  1.The Arrival of Rice and the Children

  2.A World of Wheat

  3.The Magic Beans/Jaggu and the Beanstalk

  4.The Goddess of Luck

  5.A Sibling Story

  6.A Handful of Grains

  7.The Mouse That Became a Mouse

  8.Forty Days of Quarantine

  9.What’s Luck Got to Do with It?

  10.A Word of Honour

  11.The Language of the Dogs

  12.April Showers Bring May Flowers

  13.The Case of the Mystery Pot

  14.The Gold, the Bride and the Dancing Tiger

  15.A Ship on the Land

  16.Two Blind Beggars

  17.An Apple for Nothing

  18.The Four Dolls

  19.The Greatest Medicine of All

  Footnotes

  1. The Arrival of Rice and the Children

  10. A Word of Honour

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  GRANDPARENTS’ BAG OF STORIES

  Sudha Murty was born in 1950 in Shiggaon, north Karnataka. She did her MTech in computer science and is now the chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. A prolific writer in English and Kannada, she has written novels, technical books, travelogues, collections of short stories and non-fictional pieces and several bestselling titles for children. Her books have been translated into all the major Indian languages. Sudha Murty is the recipient of the R.K. Narayan Award for Literature (2006), the Padma Shri (2006), the Attimabbe Award from the Government of Karnataka for excellence in Kannada literature (2011) and most recently, the Lifetime Achievement Award at the 2018 Crossword Book Awards.

  Also in Puffin by Sudha Murty

  How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories

  The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories

  The Bird with Golden Wings

  Grandma’s Bag of Stories

  The Magic of the Lost Temple

  The Serpent’s Revenge: Unusual Tales from the Mahabharata

  The Man from the Egg: Unusual Tales about the Trinity

  The Upside-Down King: Unusual Tales about Rama and Krishna

  The Daughter from a Wishing Tree

  How the Sea Became Salty

  How the Onion Got Its Layers

  To Kaka,

  and to the medical fraternity

  who continue to fight every day to keep us safe

  Preface

  As I began to get used to working from home during the time of coronavirus, I looked for entertaining ways to spend the limited extra time I found on my hands. To get away from the news and heavy discussions related to the virus, I began doing what I do best—create stories.

  My imagination ran wild and free and the stories seemed to flow seamlessly, almost as if this book was meant to be written. I became both Ajji and Ajja, the main characters of the book, and some days, I felt like the children in the book too! The days went by quickly. Even as the book revealed itself, I learnt the importance of having a routine, being positive, accepting the new normal and working towards the goal of helping people less fortunate than me.

  Sunanda, my sister, is a doctor, as was my father Dr R.H. Kulkarni, also popularly known as Kaka. Through their work, I observed their dedication to patients and without even knowing it, in my younger days, I developed compassion towards people going through medical challenges. Today, doctors, nurses and housekeeping workers are putting their lives on the line more than ever before, to fight against the virus and protect our country. That is the reason this book is dedicated to them.

  A heartfelt thanks to Shrutkeerti Khurana, my friend and trusted editor, whose passion made the journey of this book a cheerful one, despite the lockdown.

  Lastly, this book would not have been possible without you, my little readers. You are the inspiration that keeps me going.

  The Arrival of Rice and the Children

  It was a pleasant afternoon in March. Ajji and Ajja were glued to the television. The worry on their faces deepened as they heard increasingly distressing news about the coronavirus situation. Ajja turned to Ajji, ‘The virus started in China, but look at what has happened. It has spread all over the world, becoming a pandemic!’

  The anchor on the television announced, ‘The government is asking people to isolate themselves and follow social distancing protocols. All schools will be closed until further notice.’

  Ajji’s thoughts turned to her grandchildren in Bangalore and Mumbai.

  The sound of an autorickshaw coming to a stop outside the house interrupted her thoughts and the bell rang.

  Ding-dong!

  Ajji opened the door and saw Kamlu, Ajja’s sister, and her granddaughter Aditi. Ajji was delighted and surprised to see them. ‘Come inside,’ she said.

  Kamlu Ajji smiled as she took the bags out of the autorickshaw.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’ asked Ajji. ‘We would have picked you up from the railway station.

  Kamlu Ajji and Aditi entered the house.

  ‘Kamlu, why did you make this trip with the deadly virus around?’ Ajja demanded, concerned.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know coronavirus had reached here too. Isn’t it time for the cart festival now? I haven’t seen it in so long! Aditi has her holidays now and her mother is working from home, so it is hard to keep her engaged. I thought she might enjoy the festival and brought her with me. Besides, I wanted to give you a surprise!’

  Nine-year-old Aditi stood shyly behind Kamlu Ajji. ‘Come, child. Sit,’ said Ajji, inviting her with love.

  They all went to sit in the living room, and just then, the phone rang.

  Ajji picked it up. It was her daughter, Sumati, from Mumbai. ‘Amma,’ she said, ‘I am sending both the kids to you in Shiggaon.’

  ‘I’d be happy to have Raghu and Meenu, but what happened?’

  ‘With Covid-19 spreading like wildfire, the schools are closing down for some time and no one knows when they will reopen. Most people live in small apartments in Mumbai and it is almost impossible to keep children from going outside. Moreover, we are working from home and can’t tend to their needs all the time. So we thought about it and spoke to Subhadra to see if I could send Raghu and Meenu to her, and she said yes . . .’

  ‘All the children can come here, Sumati!’ Ajji interrupted her.

  ‘I knew you would say that and that’s why I called. Subhadra has also agreed to send her children to Shiggaon to be with you. You have a large compound around the house and there’s plenty of fresh air and space to move around. This way, the kids can be with you all and not get bored since they will be able to play with each other. Now, don’t hesitate to be frank. Tell me, will it be a problem for you to handle the four of them without sending them outside the house?’

  ‘No, Sumati, that is not a problem at all! My worry is—how will they come here?’

  ‘We will take care of that, Amma! Raghu and Meenu have already taken a flight from Mumbai to Bangalore today and are about to reach Subhadra’s home,’ said Sumati. ‘They can come to Shiggaon tomorrow and stay for a few weeks.’

  Ajja, who had been listening to Ajji’s side of the call, took the phone from her and spoke to Sumati, ‘Don’t worry, child. Kamlu and her granddaughter Aditi are also here. Send the children.’

  Almost immediately, there was another call from Bangalore. Subhadra was on the line. She said the same thing. ‘My parents have already taken Anand with them, but Krishna and Anoushka want to see you and stay in Shiggaon. I ha
ve spoken to Sumati already and the four children will reach your home tomorrow. Our office manager has offered to drive them from Bangalore to Shiggaon, but he will come back immediately because there is a lot of work to be taken care of before things get worse, as is expected,’ said Subhadra.

  Ajji ended the call and looked at Ajja. ‘I am happy to hear that our grandchildren are coming, but I am concerned about the coronavirus situation. Will you call the temple and check if the cart festival is still going ahead as planned?’

  Ajja nodded and dialled the temple’s number. While calling, he remarked, ‘It is unlikely that they’ll go ahead with the festival. We had a committee meeting yesterday and I suggested that we skip the cart festival this year, but others rejected my opinion. They felt that we shouldn’t worry because the coronavirus hasn’t reached us yet. I disagreed. Conducting the festival will be akin to giving coronavirus an invitation to come here.’

  Kamlu Ajji’s face fell. ‘Instead of surprising you, I am the one who is surprised and disappointed. I think I will go back after a few days.’

  Kamlu Ajji and Ajji were close friends. Ajji was pleased that her friend was with her. ‘You are not going anywhere,’ she said emphatically. ‘Cart festival or not, you are staying here with us.’

  Ajja turned out to be right. The festival had been cancelled.

  Kamlu Ajji turned to Ajji and announced, ‘I am going to take charge of your kitchen. I love cooking. You can rest for a few days.’

  Ajja added, ‘If the situation with respect to the coronavirus gets worse and a lockdown is announced, then we should not bring any outside help for the work around the house. Let’s share the work.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. We can’t call anyone,’ said Ajji. ‘Once the children arrive tomorrow, I will assign household chores to all of them. They will also help us.’

  Ajji went to the storeroom to check if she needed to get more groceries. Ajja followed her and remarked, ‘Some places have already announced lockdowns. If we have a lockdown here too, there will be many people who will not get enough food. We must help and lend a hand when the time comes. Please order extra rations and keep them in the storeroom. We may need them to feed other people.’

  Ajji began to make a grocery list, and Ajja dialled the number of the local grocery shop for a home delivery.

  Meanwhile, Aditi sat nearby, reading a book. She was happy to hear that four of her cousins were coming.

  The next evening, Raghu, Meenu, Krishna and Anoushka arrived with great excitement. They loved visiting their grandparents’ large and spacious home where they were pampered and allowed their freedom.

  The office manager dropped the kids and promptly left.

  As soon as they entered the house, Aditi squealed and joined them immediately. Anoushka had grown tall. Ajji announced, ‘Anoushka, you are the tallest of the girls now!’

  The children had brought their schoolbooks, and many bottles of sanitizer and handwash refill packs. They seemed happy to be away from their parents with no classes or teachers to worry about. They told their grandparents how sanitizers were being used everywhere in their schools before they had closed and in their apartment blocks in Mumbai and Bangalore, including even the lift.

  ‘Have things become that difficult there?’ Ajji asked, concerned.

  ‘Yes,’ said Raghu. ‘The government is taking many precautions and has become quite strict.’

  ‘Children, what would you like to eat for dinner?’

  ‘Something light, Ajji, as we had heavy snacks a short time ago,’ said Krishna.

  ‘Then I’ll make some special rice today—perhaps methi rice,’ said Kamlu Ajji. ‘It is easy to digest, delicious and good for supper.’

  The children agreed and Kamlu Ajji headed to the kitchen.

  Ajja switched on the television. Discussions about quarantine and social isolation continued on all news channels. The prime minister was going to address the nation shortly. Ajja looked outside the window. The evening was turning into night. He sighed, ‘Children, this is serious now and we all must stay inside the walls of the house. You can only go as far as the wall of the compound. We must not go out for any reason.’

  In less than an hour, Kamlu Ajji had made an excellent dish of methi rice with cucumber raita.

  Proudly, Ajja said, ‘All these vegetables are from our vegetable garden. We use natural fertilizers and grow organic vegetables that taste much better than what you get outside.’

  After dinner, the children helped Ajji in laying down five mattresses next to each other. Each of them chose the bed they wanted. Once it was done, Raghu turned to Ajji, ‘You have not completed your daily routine.’

  Ajji smiled. She knew what he was referring to. ‘A story, Ajji,’ pleaded Anoushka. ‘A story a day keeps all difficulties away . . .’

  Everyone chuckled.

  ‘Okay, I will tell you a story. It is a tale of what you ate for dinner—about rice. Rice is part of our daily diet and we can’t imagine living without rice or wheat today.’

  The children gathered around both the Ajjis.

  Ajja sat on a chair nearby, watching the television. The prime minister announced, ‘A lockdown will be imposed starting midnight. Everyone must stay home for the next few weeks.’

  It was evening and already dark outside. The children began listening to the story earnestly, just as the quarantine period was formally declared. Ajja muted the volume on the television, but continued watching.

  ‘Let us all listen to the story of how rice came to earth,’ said Ajji.

  A long time ago, humans could walk on clouds and wander freely in heaven.

  One day, Madhav, a mortal, became curious about how gods lived in heaven. Where do they work? What do they do all day? What do they eat? he wondered.

  So, he walked up to heaven and met many gods. He found that there were several gods and goddesses responsible for different departments in the realm. There was the god of water, the goddess of learning, the god of courage, and the god of good health, among others. But the goddess of grains, Annapurna, fascinated Madhav the most.

  He asked her, ‘Devi, I want to see the way the agriculture system works here. What do you eat, and how do you produce it?’

  Annapurna called him home and fed him a sumptuous meal. One of the ingredients was a delicious soft, white food that looked like a grain. ‘I have never seen or eaten this before! I don’t think anyone on earth has, either. It is delectable. What is this?’ he asked.

  ‘This is rice. All gods eat rice. It gives us energy and mixes very well with all vegetables.’

  Madhav agreed with her. ‘As long as I am here, I would love to eat this every day,’ he said earnestly.

  The goddess smiled. ‘Of course, Madhav! Eat as much as your heart desires.’

  The next day, Madhav asked her, ‘How is rice grown here? Will you please show me?’

  Since he was really keen to know, Annapurna took him to the rice fields to show how the bed was prepared, how the seeds were sown, how the water was retained and how it was replanted during the different stages of its growth. When the rice grains were ready for harvest, they took on a golden colour and formed a bunch. Such a beautiful sight to look at, he thought.

  After that, the goddess showed him how the harvest was pounded from grain to rice. There were a variety of pounding styles and each style had a different name. Rice emerged from the pounded grain, which was then ready to cook for a meal.

  Madhav spent a few more days in heaven and then asked for the goddess’s permission to go back to earth. During his last dinner there, he thought of his wife, his parents, his children, his siblings and his village, ‘I want everyone to taste the magic of rice at least once in their lifetimes, even if it is just one teaspoon. I am afraid to ask the goddess, she is sure to refuse my request since this is the food of the gods after all.’

  So Madhav took four seeds of rice and hid them in his turban. He knew no one would think of looking for the seeds there.

  Madha
v came back to earth, quickly planted the seeds and took care of them the same way Annapurna had shown him. When it was time for harvest, he followed the process; he pounded and made the rice. He made a sweet rice dish with the white rice, then closed his eyes and first offered it to the goddess of grains.

  Annapurna heard his prayers in heaven and came down to earth*.

  When she saw the rice, she became furious. She said, ‘Madhav, you have betrayed my trust. I respect the love for knowledge and appreciate your curiosity, but you have stolen from me. Had you been truthful, I would have given you some myself. You must be punished for being a thief.’

  Madhav touched her feet and apologized, ‘Mother, I did this because of my insecurity. Please forgive me. We are all your children, and I wanted to share the taste of rice with others too. It was not just for my selfishness. Moreover, I have also shared the knowledge of growing rice with others. This is so much better than what we eat and it makes us energetic too. Wouldn’t you like your children to have this? Please, I request you to pardon me.’

  Annapurna sighed, ‘I can’t argue with that. I know that your intentions were good. Now that rice is here on earth too, I will always send a sign when it is the right time to sow seeds. I will wash my hair in heaven, and when I push my head back, the wet hair will fall on my back and the water will flow down as rain to the earth. That will be the best time for humans to sow the seeds. The only punishment that I can give now is that no mortal will be allowed to come freely to heaven any more. They will be allowed to do so only after they discard their body at death.’

  This is how rice started growing on earth.

  A World of Wheat

  Raghu exclaimed, ‘What a nice story, Ajji! We all eat rice, but I had never heard the story of how it came to be on earth.’

  Anoushka replied, ‘I don’t like rice at all, but I love rotis. When we were living in Delhi, our school’s canteen would have different types of rotis on offer. How did wheat come to earth, Ajji?’