Events
Pleasures of the heart, the sweet nothings, the idyllic window to being
Book Club: Page No. 42
It has always been my desire to cherish the characters of my favorite reads, long after the pages get turned over to the very end and they want to get back on to their lives. Fair enough, but just a little longer I would beg, just one more conversation. Finally, a motley group of five people thought of giving shape to these conversations in the form of a Book Club. We have now named our small alcove as "Page No. 42" (courtesy Douglas Adams) in our zeal of unraveling the mysteries of the universe!
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Storytelling
As a child I lived, breathed, and survived on books. They made up my world of being. When I grew up, my beliefs were based mostly from the world of fiction. By the time I reached my middle age, I realized that reading stories from far off lands (in a no-internet world), living many lives of fictional people from varied geographies and social strata had equipped me to deal with life in more profound ways than I ever imagined. I never felt out of place in any place or any conversation, as if some part of me had lived in all those places and had participated in some of these exchanges. From that deep urge of spreading the joy of stories and equipping the children of today to deal with life in a more meaningful way, I felt the need of telling stories. And hence, began my journey.
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Chapter 1:Lucky Boy
In the hope of keeping the conversation alive long after the final page of a book has been turned, I took a brave step and sent a message through our MyGate app, hoping to find kindred spirits like myself. To my delight, a few responded, and after some weeks, even S expressed interest in joining our little club.
Thus, the fateful WhatsApp group was created, and our journey began. We decided to start with the book Lucky Boy, a suggestion from me, perhaps because I felt lucky—lucky to have found fellow readers who shared my passion.
On the evening of 26th January 2025, the solemn occasion of our 76th Republic Day, P, D, S, and A gathered to discuss our first read. Although we had all lived in the same society, we hadn’t really known one another, so we took turns introducing ourselves and explaining why we felt compelled to be part of this reading community.
As we shared our thoughts on the characters—Soli, Kavya, Rishi, Silvia, Preeti, Vikram, the Cassidys, and the resilient Miguel—we realized that though our perspectives overlapped in many ways, each of us had navigated the story through our own unique lens. P had read the book multiple times, trying to decipher why the author used so many words to express what he thought were mundane moments, and in the end, it all made sense to him. D and A, reflecting on their own journeys through motherhood, found themselves continually shifting between the experiences of Soli and Kavya. S, too, shared the complexities of fatherhood and how foreign it had initially felt.
Our discussions touched on broader topics—immigration laws, the dynamics between immigrants, and what Berkeley represents as an identity—along with many other subplots that enriched our understanding of the book.
The conversation naturally meandered, taking us to diverse ideas and regions, and together we pondered how nations, cultures, and communities shape our behaviors. We didn’t rush to close the discussion, nor did we shy away from expressing differing opinions. It was an absolute joy to come together in this safe space, just as I had imagined, sharing not only our thoughts but our hearts.
Book Cover
Book Cover
Christmas Storytelling
Emboldened by the joy of a past summer, I decided to host one more storytelling session just before the Winter Holidays. After much thought and deliberation, I chose my all-time favorite: A Charlie Brown Christmas. This story has always held a special place in my heart, but even more so in today's world.
In the story, Charlie Brown struggles to embrace the holiday spirit, yet his unwavering love for his friends, family, and beloved dog Snoopy shines through. It speaks to each of us at different stages of life, reminding us of the power of community and the importance of caring for those around us. It almost felt as though the story called on me to share its warmth with the children.
I always enjoy adding a little creative flair, so I thought of incorporating a craft to encourage active participation. I settled on making snow sledge ornaments from popsicle sticks. But, realizing that the hot glue gun might be too tricky for the younger kids, I decided to pre-make the sledges for them to take home and imagine their own snowy adventures.
As the children arrived around 5 pm, they shared their special Christmas stories. Some were original, others inspired by what they had read, and soon it turned into a lively, heartwarming discussion. After I finished the story, we snuggled up to watch Frosty the Snowman—such a warm, fuzzy, and kind tale of the season.
It was a beautiful evening spent with the kids, ushering in the winter holidays. The next day, one of the children came back, rang the bell, and asked my son if we were planning another storytelling session for New Year’s. That, I believe, is my true renumeration.
Summer Storytelling
After a lifetime of pondering and procrastination, I finally took the plunge. You see, I had always harbored a deep desire to give back in a meaningful way. My heart longed for the connection with fellow human beings, the satisfaction of listening to inquisitive minds, the joy of being attentively listened to, the pleasure of animated and copious conversation, the delight of shared laughter, the thrill of collective wonder, and the quest for shared discovery. All these needs coalesced when I finally mustered enough courage this summer to conduct storytelling sessions for the kids in my neighborhood.
My journey began with countless deliberations about the age group and the choice of stories. After a hundred internal debates, I finally dove in and crafted a poster. Once it was up on the community notice board and in our neighborhood app, there was no turning back. I had officially thrown myself into the ring.
The first week saw me pacing frantically in my living room, meticulously planning for day one, only to flop down in discouragement at the lack of sign-ups. But then, slowly but surely, registrations began to trickle in. By the penultimate day, I was overbooked.
Day one arrived with 9 registrations, and 7 eager kids showed up, ready to listen to "How Droofus the Dragon Lost His Head." It was a blast! Originally, I had planned a lineup of 5 stories for 5 sessions throughout the summer, but the kids had other ideas. They changed everything on the very first day.
As I spun tale after tale over the next five sessions, I found myself growing alongside these young listeners. In one session, the youngest of the group shared, "Hot air balloon mere sapne me ayaa" – "I had a hot air balloon in my dreams" – after we had told the story of "Zarafa." We discussed the stories we loved, the ones that amused us, scared us, emboldened us, and made us kinder. In the end, I felt like I learned more from them than they did from me.