The business of selling stories is largely governed by the desire to yearn for one. And sadly, it is on a downhill. Hence, I, like a responsible mother have had to figure out other unwordy (pronounce: unworthy) means to continue with life and life's various callings for short drives and crispy french fries. On one such weekend, I had the pleasure of finding my daughter lose one of her teeth to a soggy french toast. If you have ever been party to such an occasion, you must be aware of the consequences. To the uninitiated, let me politely put it across -- it is nothing short of an event -- complete with its shocking yell, the how-will-I-go-to-school-tomorrow on loop, and a general sadness overcome only by the mythical offerings of tooth fairies and wishes that c/would come true!
Amidst coloured papers, glue, scissors and a paraphernalia of stationery, I tried to cheer her up by taking her in my lap and forcefully charting a white fish and a white duck on each of her cheeks with the Fevicol tube. Having realised such petty wonders do not satiate children of the day, I whispered in her ears that we would have the tooth back sooner than the proposed date. I do not know how to, and now that it is almost time for her to be back from school, I am nervous. Nervous about a plan I do not have. I have cooked her a nice lunch of soya rice and egg curry and hopefully, this story will be sweeter than the custard:
The Tooth Fairy was tired of fulfilling every child's wishes. One day, tired of flying, she sat under a tree, and thought, "Oh, when will someone ask me if I have any wish?" In fact, she was so angry about all the children losing their teeth that lately, she was not doing her usual rounds of fitting them back. She contrived a delayed arrival and spent most of her time under the tree. Now this was a beautiful tree, having lovely gems and gums for fruits -- red, orange, blue, yellow.
The green leaves spoke to her one day, "Do not cry, Fairy. I understand your pain. Tell me your wish. I will see if I can fulfill it!" The fairy was excited. In magical lands, normal was extraordinary. "Thank you, dear tree! Often I get lonely while travelling to children all over the world. You are my friend, and how I wish we could travel together! Yes, that's my wish!"
The tree looked grim for a while. "Alas, Fairy, I do not have wings!" After sometimes, it rustled in excitement and shouted, "Oh! But I have a plan, I have a plan!" The Fairy loved this green conspiracy and asked after it. "Go ahead, have one of my fruits -- have a gum!"
"The chewing gum you mean?" asked the Fairy.
"Yes, that. Tear one, chew it and finally gulp it."
The Fairy was surprised. "What will happen?"
"Oh, there will be a tree in your stomach after that! You can carry me with you and for a change, you can stick back the children's tooth with the gum!"
The Fairy clapped in joy and started chewing upon an especially fruity gum. Soon enough, she started yelling, "Tree, tree, there's some rumbling in my tummy!"
The tree replied rather grandfatherly-wise, "Why, of course! The fruits are making merry!"
From that day onward, when you find a chewing-gum stuck to your bare gum, know that the Fairy has belched out a fruit. But, be very careful, should you gulp it, like her, you too will have a tree in your tummy. The Fairy won't be very happy, will not listen to you ever again and you will end up with a tree, not a tooth!
I must admit, hearing her slight snore from the hollow of her pillow is more of a relief now, than happiness. She readily said a "No!" when I told her that we could fix the bare bit of her gum with a white chewing-gum, crafty that I was! My daughter laughed for the first time since she lost her tooth and I can only hope that she is intelligent enough to understand that sometimes, just sometimes, elders tell a story to unveil the truth rather than garb it.
Amidst coloured papers, glue, scissors and a paraphernalia of stationery, I tried to cheer her up by taking her in my lap and forcefully charting a white fish and a white duck on each of her cheeks with the Fevicol tube. Having realised such petty wonders do not satiate children of the day, I whispered in her ears that we would have the tooth back sooner than the proposed date. I do not know how to, and now that it is almost time for her to be back from school, I am nervous. Nervous about a plan I do not have. I have cooked her a nice lunch of soya rice and egg curry and hopefully, this story will be sweeter than the custard:
The Tooth Fairy was tired of fulfilling every child's wishes. One day, tired of flying, she sat under a tree, and thought, "Oh, when will someone ask me if I have any wish?" In fact, she was so angry about all the children losing their teeth that lately, she was not doing her usual rounds of fitting them back. She contrived a delayed arrival and spent most of her time under the tree. Now this was a beautiful tree, having lovely gems and gums for fruits -- red, orange, blue, yellow.
The green leaves spoke to her one day, "Do not cry, Fairy. I understand your pain. Tell me your wish. I will see if I can fulfill it!" The fairy was excited. In magical lands, normal was extraordinary. "Thank you, dear tree! Often I get lonely while travelling to children all over the world. You are my friend, and how I wish we could travel together! Yes, that's my wish!"
The tree looked grim for a while. "Alas, Fairy, I do not have wings!" After sometimes, it rustled in excitement and shouted, "Oh! But I have a plan, I have a plan!" The Fairy loved this green conspiracy and asked after it. "Go ahead, have one of my fruits -- have a gum!"
"The chewing gum you mean?" asked the Fairy.
"Yes, that. Tear one, chew it and finally gulp it."
The Fairy was surprised. "What will happen?"
"Oh, there will be a tree in your stomach after that! You can carry me with you and for a change, you can stick back the children's tooth with the gum!"
The Fairy clapped in joy and started chewing upon an especially fruity gum. Soon enough, she started yelling, "Tree, tree, there's some rumbling in my tummy!"
The tree replied rather grandfatherly-wise, "Why, of course! The fruits are making merry!"
From that day onward, when you find a chewing-gum stuck to your bare gum, know that the Fairy has belched out a fruit. But, be very careful, should you gulp it, like her, you too will have a tree in your tummy. The Fairy won't be very happy, will not listen to you ever again and you will end up with a tree, not a tooth!
I must admit, hearing her slight snore from the hollow of her pillow is more of a relief now, than happiness. She readily said a "No!" when I told her that we could fix the bare bit of her gum with a white chewing-gum, crafty that I was! My daughter laughed for the first time since she lost her tooth and I can only hope that she is intelligent enough to understand that sometimes, just sometimes, elders tell a story to unveil the truth rather than garb it.
1 comment:
Utterly charming
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