This poem takes me back to school.
I picture myself sitting in the auditorium, cross-legged, on the floor.
It’s Hindi elocution competition and we have lined up to watch the finals.
A girl climbs up the stage. She looks like me. Dressed in our white and blue uniform.
I’m not the one in the elocution finals. Someone else is. She does a fine job of reciting this poem.
She looks confident. Just like the message in the subject of her poem.
We clap and wait for the judges to mark her.
We move on to the next.
The poem and her recitation stays with me.
I decide to get over my fear of public speaking and try my hand at elocutions next year.
The following year, I am not selected. Again.
The year after, I am. This time in English. I won it.
I never narrated this poem. In fact I forgot about it.
Until, an academic publisher sent me this to record for them.
I didn’t recall this memory at the first instant. However, the poem kept stirring inside me. There was something that I was struggling to recall.
A couple of fumbles, a mispronunciation, an abrupt change in tone…I had to redo this recording a few times over.
Just then, the memory of listening to it in school for the first time came rushing back to me!
And so, I wanted to dance…to honour that 8 year old version of me that didn’t give up.
𝗗𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝗺 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱?
𝗢𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱?
𝗧𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁!
*****
This story is inspired from a 𝟯𝟲𝟱 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝟯𝟲𝟱 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 Prompt - "𝗨𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱”
About 𝟯𝟲𝟱 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝟯𝟲𝟱 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀
What is your year made of?
Days, hours, minutes or seconds?
What if I tell you they are made of stories?
Come, slow down with Stories.
𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩-𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙟𝙤𝙮, 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜.
Happy Storytelling!
Rituparna
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