Mishti-doi

The next day, when Beena arrived at the temple, she was astonished to find a small pot filled with milk in place of her offering. Little Beena was over-joyed and raced home to share this miracle with her Grandma.

The Single-platter

Every year the ‘Daavat – The Single Platter’ event of the Navnirmaan School encouraged students to put up their best recipes.

Sattu

Todilal sold the most famous Mumbai street-food – Paanipuri. Paanipuri is a trademark of the Mumbai streets. It is a small little hollow crispy filled with sweet and tangy water and popped whole into the mouth.

Kulhad

The children set to work with resolve. They gathered the leftover clay from their fathers’ wheels and mixed the left-over Holi colours from the previous year into it.

The Long Orange table

The only different work of art amid all the other abstracts, this vertical A3-sized canvas was a scene of an art class. A long orange coloured table ran through the centre, that had students seated around. Open tubes, pallets, brushes, wash-pots decorated it.

Sands of Thar

Mithi’s step had a skip of triumph in it as she hurried back home. It was nearing sunset and a golden hue was sprinkled across the desert sand as Mithi remembered her grandmother’s words, “Trust these sands, they will show you the way.”

The Woodcutter

Manu was a poor woodcutter who earned his living by cutting down dried trees and selling the wood. It was hardwork indeed. Manu’s work began early in the day since by noon the overhead sun made it difficult to work.

Junglee

The story began about a few months ago when Chumki joined as the new student. All of ten, Chumki brought with her an infectious cheerfulness and vivacity. Her laughter echoed all day. However, not everyone in the class appreciated her effervescent spirit and energy. And definitely not those who were threatened by the growing affinity that their teacher showed towards Chumki who wasn’t just a meritorious student but exceled in co-curricular activities alike. This irked the other girls in class to no end.  

Choti si baatein …

Meera had a secret – every evening as the sun cast a warm golden glow across the village, she would sit by herself and open a small old notebook. In this she wrote the small good things that happened everyday. It was almost like a ritual

Sparkle

“Rats! … pests!” thought Rohchal as he cemented the very last tile on the roof of his small glass workshop. “This should keep them at bay!” he thought. They will no longer enter my workshop and spill the dyes and paints.” But rats are rats…and one such pest scrambled over the wet cement and oops!