A memorable short story from childhood

The reading bug had caught me quite early during my childhood. It started somewhere with seeing dad read voraciously and the bi-monthly trips to the library with him. Sis had started reading too, so I naturally followed suit.

While I still remember all the Enid Blytons that I devoured for the fanciful English world that it portrayed and Nancy Drews that I enjoyed for the thrilling mystery elements, the first short story that I appreciated for its literary value stands out in my mind. And I think of it as something like having watched a caterpillar metamorphosize into a butterfly - that my mind had suddenly began appreciating the art of story telling apart from enjoying the story itself

The story that brought about this landmark change is 'Games at Twilight' by Anitha Desai. It featured in our English Literature Reader in middle school and is the story of how a little boy (Ravi)takes a game of hide and seek a bit too seriously and hides in a very unlikely and hard to discover place, his heart racing with excitement with the surety of a win. However, once everyone else has been 'found' , the other kids move on to other games, completely forgetting about Ravi. After a good deal of time elapse, Ravi finally emerges from his hiding place, loudly demanding his victory, only to see that the other kids have moved on from the game and can barely comprehend his demands. The story ends with how Ravi and others around him react to this debacle.

I still remember being fascinated by how the author had captured the typical summer afternoon games of a boisterous group of little children, followed by the evening setting and activities of the community. The best part was the author's poignant description of what goes through Ravi's mind, how he behaves and feels at the end. Rage, disappointment, the unfairness meted out to him - the reader can completely feel and empathize with it all!

I remember coming back home from school and discussing it with my sister and how she totally agreed that the story was indeed a masterpiece.

Post the unfolding of this eventful story in my life, there was no looking back. Everything I read took on a new and much more enjoyable flavor. I had learnt to appreciate the written word and get lost in the writings of various authors, not just for the story that they had to tell but for their fine craft of writing itself. It became another art form that I began to enjoy. I dabbled in it much later, in the form of this blog which led to the discovery of yet another therapeutic exercise :)

Among all the dreams and hopes that I have for my child, my fondest one is to see him curl up with a book and forget the world. He cannot read by himself as yet and we are still in the 'amma reads aloud' Pepper and Bruno series. But the day he settles down to immerse himself into a book would be a red letter day for his crazy mommy who will remember it for ever, just like she remembered the metomorphic short story from years and years ago :)