Nalini Ramachandran - Lore of the Land: Storytelling Traditions of India

O nce upon a time... Mohini began nervously, the lump in her throat refusing to be swallowed.

Youve said that at least fifteen times in the past five minutes! What happens after Once upon a time? a man, known for his bitter temper, yelled from the last row.

Her cheeks flaming, Mohini shut her eyes tightly in the hope that the impatient crowd would disappear when she opened them again. But they still sat right there before her, only getting more and more annoyed with her.

She made yet another attempt. Once upon a time... there was a stone.

At last! the same man said mockingly.

Shush! Let her get on with it, an elderly lady sitting right in front shouted, waving her printed yellow fan.

But Mohini had run into a stone wall with her stone story. She had no idea what to say next. So when someone else from the audience shouted, Go on! We dont have all day!, she resolved to finish it off the same way she always did.

Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-stone-and-a-young-prince-kicked-it-hard-and-the-stone-hit-a-wall-and-was-broken-into-pieces.

And before the audience could make sense of the worlds most hurried fairy tale, she mumbled, Storys over. Thank you for your attention.

The children in the front row moaned and those in the last groaned, even as everyone sitting in between shook their heads disapprovingly.

Thats such a lame story, a woman complained, her cat equally upset.

Lame? Why, thats not even a story! Tsk tsk... She has clearly been born into the wrong family, the latest grumbler said.

Mohini pretended not to have heard any of these comments as she sprinted past them, but every single word had stung her like a smarting wound.

Mohinis destiny had been decided the moment she was born. Everyone in Mithika, the quaint hill-town where the girl lived, knew what she was going to be when she grew up. A storyteller.

Her grandmother Anokhi had regaled the townspeople with mind-boggling tales of the strange and mysterious. And G-Ma, as Mohini playfully called her, had had another extraordinary skillwhenever people went to her with their problems, shed give them solutions through stories! Oh, stories are everywhere. Its what you do with them that makes all the difference, she used to say.

Then there was Anokhis daughter, Mohinis mother, Manohari, who could conjure up magical lands and stories of princesses and goblins in no time. On the other hand, Mohinis father, Yash, believed in true stories and real-life heroes. The two were complete opposites, yet they complemented each other delightfully.