My Tales and Treasures

This blog contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you. In Leh, Ladakh, there is a beautiful airport surrounded by picturesque mountains. It feels as if the mountains change their colors with every season, painting a different picture each time you visit. Among the aircraft that rested there stood Vayu , a magnificent airplane which is the biggest and most admired at the airport. Everyone treated him with special care. But before every flight, Vayu was always t owed to the runwa y by Bheema , a sturdy little tug vehicle. Over time, the two developed a quiet, warm friendship. Bheema would ask Vayu about his day, and Vayu always had interesting stories to share. About clouds, thunder, and far-away places.  Bheema tows Vayu to the runway. Through those stories, Bheema felt alive. He couldn’t fly, but listening to Vayu’s adventures was the next best thing. Still, somewhere deep inside, he felt a t...

 Note: This story contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Your support helps me write more stories like this. It was the last week of summer vacation, and the sun was shining brightly outside. Instead of playing in the garden like she usually did, Shruti sat quietly by the window, her chin resting on her hands. She had just finished second grade and would be starting third grade soon. However, instead of excitement, Shruti felt a sense of worry. “Amma, I don’t want to go to school anymore,” Shruti said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. Amma, who was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, paused and looked at her daughter. “Why, Shruti? What happened? If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen. If not, we can discuss it later,” Amma replied gently. Shruti hesitated, but then the words came tumbling out. “I don’t like math, and I don’t like homework. I just want to stay home like you, Amma. No school, no homework.” Amma ...

This story contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.   Once upon a time, in a lively paint box, the colours began to argue with each other claiming to be the most important and beautiful of all. If you love playing with colours too, try dabble , non-toxic finger paints for kids. Green stood tall and declared, “I am the colour of life! You see me in the trees, the grass, and even deep within the oceans. I am everywhere! Without me, the world would be dull and barren. Surely, I must be the queen of all colours.” Yellow, glowing brightly, chimed in, “You may be right Green, but I am the colour of the sun! I bring warmth and light to everything around. My golden rays touch everything and bring happiness. How can any colour shine brighter than me?” Blue, calmly responded, “I am the colour of the sky, the vast ocean and freedom. I bring peace and tranquillity wherever I am. Without me, the world would lose its sense of calm. I am the ...

On the edges of the Western Ghats lived a lonely, grumpy little porcupine. No one in the forest had ever seen him smile, and everyone kept their distance, for two reasons: one, his ever-sour mood; and two, his sharp, intimidating spikes.   One day, the little porcupine felt completely lost and hopeless. Tears burst from his eyes as he cried, “Why am I so lonely here? “Where is my family?” “I don’t have any friends… and… and I hate my spikes.” Hearing the little porcupine cry, a frog leapt out of the pond and gently asked, “Buddy, why are you crying?” Little porcupine hesitantly said, “I don’t have any family or friends. No one really cares if I exist or not. No one really likes me… all because of my spikes” Even before the frog could muster a word, porcupine said “The other day, I was trying to be friendly with a deer. He came close to me and my spikes poked him and he left in pain. I am not good for anyone. Maybe I should leave this jungle… and go find my own kind.” Frog smiled an...

 In the wide, restless waters of the Bay of Biscay, there lived a salmon named Sara. She had beautiful silvery scales, dotted with black spots. She was young, but her eyes often drifted toward the horizon, dreaming of something greater. Sara loved listening to stories of the salmon run. That daring journey upstream, back to the very river where life began. “One day, you’ll feel the call,” her Aunt Sally often told her. Sally had made that journey twice and returned alive, scarred yet strong. To Sara, she wasn’t just family; she was a hero. But not every story had a happy ending. Many salmon were lost to hunger, predators, and the long tiring swim. Sara knew this and deep inside she wondered, “Will I be strong enough?” One fine morning, Sara felt it. The call. She felt like an invisible thread pulling her home. Without another thought, she swam up to aunt Sally. “Auntie… it’s time. I have to go!”, exclaimed Sara Sally’s wise eyes softened. “Then go, my child. And remember, don’t thi...

 Note: This story contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. There once was a busy little anthill, full of life and action. The worker ants marched in and out, carrying tiny crumbs of food on their backs. Some ants were cleaners, keeping the anthill neat and shiny. At the gates stood the soldier ants, strong and brave, guarding their home. A busy little anthill, full of tiny lives and endless action. Deep inside, in the lower rooms, the wriggly larvae and the sleepy pupae were being cared for. And even further down, in a special chamber, lived the queen ant. She was always busy, laying eggs and helping the colony grow bigger and stronger every day. The whole anthill worked like one big family, where every ant had an important job to do. Then came the monsoon time. The rain poured and poured for many days. The worker ants felt the weather changing. Worker ants are busy building new tunnels, strong and safe. Quickly, they dug new tunnel...

  Note: This story contains Amazon affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.  It was the first time Ananya and Ananth had ever seen a Sutra Gombeyata, the traditional string-puppet theatre of Karnataka. They sat spellbound as the wooden puppets danced across the stage, their movements brought to life by invisible strings and the skillful hands of the puppeteers behind the curtain. When they learned that this enchanting art form dated back thousands of years, they were amazed. It felt like watching history come alive! If you’ve never seen one before, you can find beautifully handcrafted Rajasthani kathputli puppets online. They’re miniature works of art that carry India’s storytelling heritage. Ananya and Ananth seeing a Sutra Gombeyata It was their summer vacation, and their first visit to Udupi, a small coastal town filled with green fields, coconut groves and old stories whispered by the sea breeze. Their uncle, Pritvi an agricultural entomo...