(Happy New Year 2010!!!! :-) )
It was a hot summer night. The night was heavy with the humidity and smell of ripe mangoes and the grandchildren had come down to visit her. They were a joy and she had been looking forward to this time all through the year. But no one could disagree that her four little joys were also four little tail-less monkeys. They had run her ragged throughout the day and had still not wound down. She could hear them screaming and running and it was dinner time, something she was surely not looking forward to.
Looking out the kitchen balcony she could see the beautiful moon rising out from behind the palm trees when it stuck her.
Armed with mixed rice in a vessel, she called down to her monkeys to come up to the terrace for dinner and she would tell them stories that she had had heard from her mother and they could make it a picnic under a beautiful moon...
(The above URL takes you to my new blog, which contains stories mostly from mythology and folklore that I had heard from my Grandma. An erudite lady who has the knack of making her stories so very interesting that she could hold even us terrors, bent on mischief, spellbound. I have always felt sad that people even of my age (leave alone the next gen) do not really know these lovely old stories and hence decided to do something about it and so here goes... )