Elephant grass. Anything could be hiding there. (A rhino, perhaps?) Huge birds that made me think of pterodactyls. (Wasn't it enough that the word 'rhinoceros' tempted me to say 'rhino-saurus'? Hog deer. (My auto response, by the way, said I was away looking at/for rhinoceroses.) Swamp deer. (I wonder ... Why don't we use the second part of the one-horned rhinoceros's Latin name? Wouldn't that be exciting?) Cold, cold December days. I didn't know whether it was just the cold that was making me shiver, though. Many years ago, I had a pen pal from Assam. I remember him going to Kaziranga and writing to me about it. I had heard of it, but someone 'real' going there made it a place rather than a name. I lost contact with him years ago, ironically, when emails replaced letters. But finally, I went there, to Kaziranga. Four super safaris ... I still have rhinoceros-shaped bubbles of … [Read more...]
Running on the Cracks
So much to do, so much to read, so much to write! I haven't written my blog for ages because I've been busy writing a brand new series on trains ... But more about that when we're closer to the date it's to be launched. Running on the Cracks made me create a little space in the whirlwind of activity that has made up the last few months. I read and watched The Gruffalo's Child a while ago, and when I saw a book by Julia Donaldson in the library, I had to read it. And I read on and on. Moving beyond the 'political correctness' of the way we ought to address the immigrant Chinese population in Glasgow, Running on the Cracks came alive to me at each step. Leonora Watts-Chan, half-Chinese and half-English, is on the run. Her parents died in a plane crash, and she begins to live with Aunt Sarah and Uncle John. Her cousins tease her about the colour of her skin; in fact, they tease her … [Read more...]
Why not Indian literature?
I read article after article about how Indian literature for children is on the rise. I read about lit fests and how these promote Indian writers and Indian literature. I read about new publishers and new writers all over the country. I feel encouraged, thinking about my future (and present) as a writer. Yet, against all that optimism, a few things come to mind. I often play a game with children, encouraging them to find out what the others read. Recently, I watched sixty children running around enthusiastically as they played the game, shouting to one another. When they shared what they loved and hated reading, not a single Indian writer or book was named. In a Writers' Club that I conduct, children write about France and America and England and Australia, rarely India. I still meet Mary and Lucy, and even made-up names of various sorts, but rarely Indian … [Read more...]
Whale Boy
I don't know a single child who has read and not liked animal stories. I remember Animal Ark. I think of Gill Lewis's White Dolphin. There are hundreds of horse stories that I've read and loved - Stallion Club comes to mind immediately. Whale Boy is one of those beloved animal tales. Growing up in Rose Town, Dominica, Michael learns very early on to manage on his own. His mother was, according to his grandmother, 'not mother material', and abandoned him as a baby. His father went to London in search of her and never returned. Legend says that there is a place where the waters run deep enough to lose the highest mountain. That's where the whales come - so many that you can walk on their backs. Yet, sperm whales were the victims of generations of whalers. There are no whales left on the island ... or are there? Michael discovers that it may just be dangerous to find out. Befriending … [Read more...]
Workshop at Ahmedabad
Here are a couple of photos from the workshop I conducted at FD School, Ahmedabad, under the banner of Ratna Sagar. It was a lovely experience, working with enthusiastic teachers. We worked on the story of Pinocchio, exploring integrated learning and the importance of conducting different kinds of activities while teaching. We spoke about reading and why we enjoy reading. We discussed the role of non-language teachers in the teaching of English. All in all, it was a rewarding session! … [Read more...]
The Story-Catcher: A Review by Arushi Upadhyaya
Some time ago, I mentioned a book review of The Story-Catcher by 9-year-old Arushi Upadhyaya. Finally sharing the whole review here! It made me smile all over again. … [Read more...]
Flight to Dragon Isle
One of the reasons I love travelling is that I have so much time that I can spend reading without feeling guilty about everything else I could have been doing instead. Waiting, sitting around, marking time until my workshop begins ... What else can I do? I loved The Dragon Whisperer; I wanted to know what happened next. And there was the sequel, Flight to Dragon Isle, sitting on the shelf in the library, waiting for me to borrow it. The Grand Master is intent on treason, but even Quenelda's father the Earl is not convinced that his childhood friend Hugo could have gone so far astray. Yet, in the fight against the hobgoblins, the Earl comes face to dace with treachery. He knows that Hugo has betrayed the SDS, but before he can make any kind of report, he goes missing and is reported dead. Quenelda is sure her father is not dead, though. Yet, she and her esquire Root have just a handful … [Read more...]
Ahmedabad
How I love to travel! Sitting at the airport this morning, I watched the people around me. Some confident, some scared. Most busy on their mobile phones and laptops. Impatience: that's what's in the air. I watch everyone even as I read, my eyes darting from book to face, book to face. How do I appear, I wonder ...? Landing in Ahmedabad made my lips twitch. I was in a plane that reminded me of days gone by, a small plane that looked like it belonged to a different age ... I let my imagination go wild. And then I remembered the time, all those years ago, when I was stranded in Ahmedabad for hours together. I smiled, shouldered my bag and walked into the airport. The feeling of reaching a new place with different people overwhelmed me. All the way to my hotel, my heart kept leaping to my throat. The signals seem to be showpieces. No one notices them. Honk-honk-honk at the signal, even … [Read more...]
The Witching Hour
Seventeenth century Scotland. The Presbyterians are convinced that the word of God is not equivalent to the word of King Charles, sitting far away in England. The Black Cuffs are everywhere, rounding up suspected Presbyterians because by the law enforced by Charles Stuart, it is illegal to pray outdoors; you can be fined for not going to the kirk for Sabbath; you can be penalised for denying the authority of the king's bishops and ministers. Each one suspected of Presbyterianism must go through the Test - or be hanged. Elizabeth Laird's The Witching Hour is a powerful novel told from the point of view of young Margaret Blair, more sure of her love for her family and friends than of the word of the Lord. She is not a Covenanter, and does not know what Jesus wants from her. Life is confusing, surrounded as she is by people who are so convinced of their … [Read more...]
Nightjars
When I think of nightjars, I think of poetry. Was it in "Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas? Or did I come across a nightjar in something by Keats or Byron? I think of nightjars and I have the sense of something I do not know. Something that I can only imagine. And then we saw them - both earlier this year in Nagzira, and this time in Tadoba. In the pre-dawn light, little, brown birds sat on the red road. The jeep's headlights fell on them as they sat there. We watched wide-eyed, as unblinking as the small, round birds with their black eyes. We held our breath. It was breathtaking, but hugely stressful. What if they don't fly? What if we run over them? What if they don't fly? What if they don't fly? They waited, unfailingly, until the last possible moment. My heart was in my throat as I watched them finally taking off. In the bright light from our jeep, they flew, their wingspans seemingly … [Read more...]
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