Halli Times June 2020 by A Learning Hut

HALLI TIMES Volume 1, Issue 2 June 2020

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” ~ WINNIE THE POOH

Art by Saishree

Saishree is a homeschooled eight year old who loves Carnatic music, reading and art.

Gratitude …

Cover Page - Preethi Shankaran

Other artwork - Preethi Shankaran, Saishree, Vaidehi Sriram Original Photography - Agnibarathi, Lalitha T Arun Editing and Logo Design - Vaidehi Sriram Editing and Technical Support - Lalitha T Arun / Agnibarathi

Fondly dedicated to my dear father Late S.T, lover of all things literary, editor of a local magazine called “Karumbu”. Thank you Appa, for instilling a love for books and writing in all three of us. We love you !

A publication proudly brought to you by T he Learning Hut !

Editorial

Welcome to another issue of the Halli Times ! We hope you are safe and taking care of yourself during these unusual times that we are living in. What a whirlwind of changing circumstances it has been, since we last met in March 2020 !

The past three months have gone by in a blink of an eye, as I adjusted to new routines, new ways of living and the lingering uncertainty in the air. Yet, as I looked around for a theme for this issue, the one word that stood out was Gratitude. Each day’s news, conversations with friends and a glance at my surroundings only reinforced how lucky I was to be in a profession that allowed me to be productive, despite everything. I was also reminded of my privilege at every step of the way. Indeed, no amount of thanks I could express would be enough. Gratitude can be reduced to a buzzword, but is something that can enrich our lives when practised mindfully. Gratitude is an ‘attitude’, as one of our writers this month rightly put it. When the contributions started coming in for this issue, it was interesting to see how so many of us express thankfulness through poetry or art. Do take a moment to appreciate the beautiful artwork and heartfelt verses peppered throughout this issue ! We also have a humorous take on being grateful with ‘L’amour - à la distance’. Mannathi Tales continues, taking you on adventures and giving you snippets into the fauna here at Springwoods ! We bring you a bonus story with ‘Dawn’, from the perspective of a day old cub in the forest. A huge thanks to all the writers and readers of the Halli Times, of course ! We hope you enjoy reading this month’s issue, so go ahead, grab your cuppa, put on your reading glasses and dig in ! -Vaidehi © Halli Times, June 2020

A Poem on Gratitude... ~Krithi Hemmige GRATITUDE A lot of people ask me, “What are you grateful for?” I’m grateful for a lot of things, My family and more. I’m grateful for my family who are the very best, They never stop to think, they never stop to rest. I’m grateful for my friends, who are wonderful and kind. I’m grateful for my teachers who help sharpen my mind. I’m grateful for the workers who are working day and night, I’m grateful for the government who are working to make this right.

I’m grateful for those who are reading this poem, I know you are awesome I’m grateful for a lot of things, as you can see, I hope you liked this poem,this poem written by me ! Krithi Hemmige is an eleven year old sixth grader. Apart from writing poems, she also enjoys reading,singing,and playing with her friends.

Art by Vaidehi Sriram

Sunset... ~Preethi Shankaran I see you everyday as you make your appearance briefly,

and try to capture you in vain. Immersing every bit of my soul to experience you. Yet you leave when you are done, leaving me longingly wait for another 24 hours, parting with no regret but a ray of hope, and promise to meet again. With you I can be sure that I may fail in my promises but you - never!

Preethi Shankaran likes to define herself as a living being trying to lead a meaningful life and is learning ways to get there. She is also a plant based nutritionist and an Android developer.

L’amour - à la distance ~ Manu Ramesh One of the first words I learnt as a student of French was “Merci”. I embarked on this journey of learning French in my thirties, armed with such a meagre vocabulary.I had a couple of reasons for pursuing a foreign language and French in specific. I grew up in a south Indian household in which every family member spoke a couple of languages. Secondly, my sister is married to a German and a German’s reaction (I apologise to the honourable exceptions for the generalization) is priceless when told that the Belgian beer is superior to its German counterpart and when you speak in French. To misquote the Chinese leader, Deng Xiaoping, “I crossed the ‘French as a foreign language’ river feeling for the stones”. Over six years, I came to use the language in my day to day work for a French company, deftly avoiding the bamboozling grammatical concepts such as “Subjonctif” and “Connecteurs Logiques”. This is the price that one pays for skipping the second cup of strong Narasu coffee prior to French class. Alas, no point crying over spilt filter coffee! © Halli Times, June 2020

Apart from annoying my brother-in-law, my knowledge of French ensured I wasn’t just a face in the ubiquitous crowd of Indian men with receding hairlines, vying for the attention of prospective employers and dates. Following my first four levels of French in the brick and mortar set up of Alliance Française Bangalore, interspersed with copious quantities of Kingfisher beer at Watson’s pub, I briefly experimented with the free French classes offered by the Canadian Government. Unfortunately, you get what you pay for and the real-life, French version of “Mind your language” isn’t a conducive environment for sharpening one’s language skills. Finally, I adopted the COVID-19 approach to French, three years before the pandemic manifested itself by way of dry coughs, lay offs and self-imposed vows of social isolation for the supposedly “single and ready to mingle”. I started attending French classes organised by a gentleman in France, wherein an instructor in Bangalore teaches two students over Skype. We started each class diligently with thirty to forty-five minutes of “bavard”,

the French equivalent for gossip, thereby developing speaking skills and the ability to converse on disparate and inane topics. These ranged from trade secrets for a tastier “Bisi Bele Bath” to the “Masala Dosa Ranking” of the holy trinity comprising MTR, CTR and Vidyarthi Bhavan. Therefore, in keeping with this month’s theme of gratitude I would like to go back to the first French word that I learnt

and say “Merci”, as I recount how my French classes became my training ground for COVID-19 readiness. I say “merci”for a number of reasons, but not least for imparting online etiquette that would enable me to find my place in this Covid-19 stricken world. Never did I think that French would play a role in acclimatising me with the COVID-19 world of social distancing and virtual interactions ! MERCI BEAUCOUP !

Manu works for a French Pharmaceutical company in Toronto. He holds an MBA from the Rotman School of Business , University of Toronto. During his free time he likes to play tennis, swim, surf, and improve his French.

Ain’t it gratitude... ~ Punster Hands raised in prayer, A debt paid in kind. Cognizance, a graceful acceptance of a bestowal by a benevolent hand. Ain’t it gratitude? All it is, can be, is a currency of goodwill; Neither an entitlement, nor a banker’s bill. Ain’t it gratitude? Can’t be bought, can it be sold ? Far more precious than silver or gold. Ain’t it gratitude ? An acknowledgment of a giving heart; Only spontaneity, not a practised skill or art. Ain’t it gratitude ? Never solicited, never explicitly sought A subtle emotion erupting from an enriched heart. Ain’t it gratitude ? Punster is a person halfway through this life, still trying to find shoes that fit her, or rather, can fit into. © Halli Times, June 2020

Gratitude as Attitude ! ~ Lalitha T Arun ‘He is a wise man who doesn’t grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has’---Epictetus.

Before I began my minimalism journey a little over a year ago, my mind was a bit restless. I wanted a bigger house to accommodate all our stuff. I felt we had outgrown our house. The truth was we had too much stuff, too many things that weren’t needed or even wanted. I wanted a bigger bookshelf to seat all the books—old and new. I wanted a bigger kitchen with more drawers to store more gadgets and utensils. Another closet to store my shoes and clothes, you get the idea.

I was disgruntled with the lack of space unable to see the fact that I was drowning in excess. Just as I was wrangling with trying to find a solution, we had to move house. The opportunity presented itself. As we prepared to move, we were overwhelmed by the number of boxes we needed to transport all our stuff. That was an eye opener. When we decided to give away some of our things to charity and discard certain others, an epiphany occurred.

The solution was not in buying a bigger space and filling it up, rather it was to empty the existing space to lighten the load, both in a physical and metaphorical sense.As each box or bag left the house to a charity shop, a strange sense of contentment engulfed me.

friends, uncles and aunts, my husband and his family, for all the travels, for all my teachers and colleagues, ---all of whom have brought such joy and had an impact on my life and growth. Not surprisingly, I was most grateful for the people in my life and my experiences, not the stuff I had accumulated.

I began to read up on Minimalism (Joshua Becker and Leo Babauta, Ryan and Josh of the Minimalists) and began to simplify our lives even more. It was the wake-up call I had needed.

The beginning of the new decade 2020, I decided to make a list of 12 things I was grateful for in the previous year, which was a deeply satisfying exercise.

One of the unexpected side effects of minimalism was the sense of gratitude that came over me. For the first time, I realised that I had enough, that I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t wanting for anything. This was a game changer as this feeling of contentment, after years of craving more and more, was somewhat surprising yet very welcome. The urge to buy on an impulse and fill that vacuum had somewhat subsided. The Amazon account lay dormant for a while in a long time. After the move, I decided to write in my diary about some of the things I was thankful for as I wanted to record these feelings. Starting with the past I was grateful for all the wonderful people that populated my world---my grandparents, my lovely parents and siblings, my cousins and ÂŠ â&#x20AC;&#x2039;Halli Times, June 2020

I incorporated gratitude or giving thanks as a daily practice---at first, I wrote three things I was grateful for every single day. Giving thanks even for the simplest things or things we take for granted like a walk in the park or a sunrise has had a tremendous impact on my happiness and state of mind. \ According to studies, a feeling of gratitude enhances your wellbeing and positive state of mind as much as oxytocin. http://positivepsychology.com/gratitudeappreciation/ At the halfway point of 2020 with COVID 19 wreaking havoc everywhere, gratitude becomes all the more relevant. Without minimising the pain and grief of those who have lost their loved ones and livelihood or health, for some of us the lockdown life has had its share of positives. This position of privilege is a great starting point for thankfulness.

As hard as it is to see the forest for the trees sometimes, a daily routine of gratefulness just before going to bed and upon waking up helps remove the discontent and the sense of entitlement that plagues us all. As much death and destruction as it has left in its wake, the virus has also forced

us to stop and take a breath, to reflect on our choices as consumers, to sit still and rethink our lives as a whole. For that reason, I’d like to thank the virus for making us ponder the hard questions, for stopping us in our tracks, for giving the environment a breather.

Much like Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic Philosopher and Roman Emperor in his book “Meditations”, I made a list of thanks at the beginning of the lockdown life :

Grateful to be working from home, teaching people who need those lessons. Grateful for family and friends, sharing a laugh, playing games. Grateful for technology that has made it possible to keep in touch, to share photos and videos with loved ones. Grateful for the time to listen to and practise music—it is indeed food for the soul. Grateful for the long walks along the canal, along tree lined paths, along beautiful houses with the perfectly manicured lawns. Grateful for the birdsong, for the morning chorus that fills your heart with joy. Grateful for the warm, crisp mornings of spring, the magnolia blossoms and the daffodils. Grateful for the morning cup of coffee. Grateful to enjoy nourishing, home cooked meals. Grateful for the time to reflect and meditate. Grateful for the pink and blue night skies. Grateful for the summer showers, the thunderclap and the rainbows after; Grateful for the simple pleasures of life…

“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die, so let us all be thankful’---The Buddha.

Lalitha T Arun is a teacher of English and French. An aspiring minimalist, she lives in England and enjoys long walks, meditation and Carnatic music.

Take a bow ~ Prathima She who held out her arms and helped me walk, For it was her voice that taught me to talk. My mother, my friend, philosopher, and guide. The first day at school, all lost and scared, I found that there was one who cared, Fed and nurtured my young eager mind. while coming across as severe, she was actually kind. My teacher, my friend, philosopher and guide. Transformed from a fledgling to a bird, Taking ungainly steps away from my nest into the big bad worldWhile there were strangers, and those who wished me ill, There were those who helped me along as I trudged uphill. Fellow humans, my friends, philosophers and guides. All along were the old and the young, Who stood and cheered While I climbed each rung Of the ladder to now where I stand; even reaching out with a helping hand, My unnamed friends, philosophers and guides.

Prathima is 5 feet 8 inches tall and enjoys writing poetry and learning new languages. She is a sensitive human being who wants to find her place in the world.

ÂŠ â&#x20AC;&#x2039;Halli Times, June 2020

How the lizard helped the lark sing, a Mannathi Tale ~ Agnibarathi “Help! Help! Save me! Save me!”, screamed Meenakshi. There was clear and present danger in her screams. The yellow door of her home was flung open and her father’s head peeped out. Despite the terrified screams he heard, his face was unperturbed. “What is it”, he asked in a voice that had a lot of frustration and very little concern in it. “I am stuck!”, exclaimed Meenakshi with a dramatic wave of her hands as she dangled from the branch of a tree that was just two feet away from the ground. Meenakshi herself was three and a half feet tall (and she knew this because her mother told her so when she marked her height on the door) and six years old (and she knew this because she had grown big enough to say “six years old” and not “five old”). Her father smiled at the ludicrousness of the situation. “How ludicruous!”, he shook his head (and Meenakshi’s sponge brain suucked up that big new word immediately even though she had no idea what it meant), “If you knew how to climb up, you know how to climb down!” Having said this, he went back to his boring work. Meenakshi sat and sulked for a while. Her visions of a dramatic rescue had been ruined by her father. Why could he not have played along and lifted her? Why didn’t nice things like that ever happen to her? But she couldn’t sulk for long because she caught sight of a red ant climbing her mango tree and had to pursue it. That little red ant turned out to be a snooty one who didn’t care for human company. He scurried along fast to find some privacy. Lost in her pursuit, Meenakshi climbed rather high. And more importantly, she did not know about the cunning magic of certain trees that held out branches when children climbed up and then hid them once they were really high so that they may never leave the tree. So before she knew it, she found herself on a deceptively cosy branch ten feet up in the air. Her head swooned when she looked down from there, but at the same time the branch was so comfortable that she wanted to stay right there. And she would have stayed right there until she became a bird, a bee, a spider, a snake or whatever it is that the tree would have willed her to be if not for a small rustle that disturbed its spell. That tiny rustle came from a long, slender, scaly body that was ablaze in bright vermillion and glossy black ending in a sinuous tail.

“Mannathi!”, screamed Meenakshi (for indeed it was Mannathi) and almost lost her grip on the tree in her excitement. “Careful!”, Mannathi replied in a soft but deep voice “Careful!” “I won’t !” Meenakshi snapped, for she did not like to be told what to do. “You look so pretty”, she added not just to offset her haughtiness but also because Mannathi looked indeed lovely. “Handsome1, not pretty. I have manifested as a boy.”, corrected Meenakshi. “But the last time* you were a girl”, asked Meenakshi. “So, you were three old a while ago. Aren’t you six years old now?” retorted Mannathi. This seemed reasonable to Meenakshi. “Ok! Ok! Tell me! What have you been doing? What is this new body?”, Meenakshi gushed. “A rock agama lizard, my girl, has many a deed to do. And this morning, I helped a bushlark sing” “How liducruous!”, said Meenakshi (and because she used that word to mean how spectacular, the word liducruous has taken on that meaning ever since) Mannathi who understood the meaning of words despite the noise they made (and never needed explanation in parentheses), puffed out his chest in pride. “But how did you help? What happened? Tell me!”, Meenakshi asked with her eyes wide. “It was at dawn, three nights hence that I met Lady Lark while I was soaking in the sun perched on a wall”, if you hadn’t observed it yet, Mananthi had a very pompous style of speaking in this form (and would have been very good friends with that little red ant) “At first, I did not see her…” “Oh wait! First, I need to get off this tree. It is too high. Help me down, no?” pleaded Meenakshi. Mannathi shook his head from side to side solemnly. “Once a tale has begun, we must see its end before we do aught else.”, which was just a snooty way of saying he will not help until he finishes telling the story “Besides, often the solution to one tale lies hidden in another.” Meenakshi didn’t understand much of this. But the branch was still cosy and she was getting a story. So she decided she can wait this out.

“At first, I did not see her, the Lady Lark”, continued Mannathi in his baritone voice. “For she lay well hidden amid the dry grass2. But she caught my eye when I spied her bouncing in a distraught manner. She looked up to me with sad eyes that pleaded for assistance ” “Oh, the lark was in trouble?”, despite the flurry of new words thrown at her, Meenakshi held on to the tale doggedly. “Yes, indeed! I asked her what her predicament was and she said nothing in return.” “How rude!”, said Meenakshi who had learnt that phrase from a T.V. show recently. “Tsk, tsk! Don’t be so quick to judge, girl. She had lost her voice. She communicated so to me by a series of hops, skips and jumps.” “Oh no! How did that happen?” “She knew not”, Mannathi shook his head soberly “There she was, one moment, singing happily, hunting beetles, trilling away, and the next moment no song came from her throat!” “And how did you help her?”, asked Meenakshi, still not convinced about a lizard helping a bird sing. Mannathi fixed Meenakshi with a condescending stare (which is something all lizards can produce easily). “I beckoned her to perch in my proximity like so.” He swished his tail elegantly and indeed it seemed like a gracious invitation that no bird can refuse, thought Meenakshi. “Oh, wait! I remember from last time#!” She squealed suddenly. “Her song was inside her all along and you told her that, right?” “Tsk, tsk”, sighed Mannathi, “It would be a terribly boring world if all stories ended the same way. No, the Lady Lark had a different problem and she had done a wise thing by asking help from someone as wise as me.” The condescending stare again. “Oh, ok. What happened then?”, asked Meenakshi with an interest she never spared to her father’s tales. “My keen lizard eyes spotted the source of the predicament instantly”, droned on Mannathi, “And I helped her. ‘Take a deep breath’ I said, ‘In!’” Mananthi lifted his neck craning his up as his arms stretched down “And out”, he pushed down shrinking as he did3

Meenakshi watched and listened,in rapt attention. Mannathi repeated his exercise rapidly a few times to illustrate the point. “Thrice she inhaled and exhaled under my watch and plop, it came out.” “What? What?” “A pebble she had misconstrued to be a bug. It had gotten struck in her gullet.Once it came out her throat was free to sing. And sing she did! Until the sun climbed over our heads, she sang the most dulcet of melodies while I listened4.” “How liducruous!”, exclaimed Meenakshi, “Oh and I have climbed over your head like the sun!” “That will not do. For I must take the higher perch3”, said Mannathi as he scrambled up. Meenakshi laughed at this and looked down to see how high they had climbed up. It was very high indeed and Meenakshi was scared. “Oh, Mannathi”, she gasped in a frightened voice, “How will I climb down?” “The solution to one tale lies in another!” intoned Mannathi in a cryptic manner. “Hmm…”, Meenakshi tried to figure this one out “Should I take deep breaths like the lark?” She tried to do so, but her tiny lungs were too scared to slow down. “No no, you silly lass!”, laughed Mannathi “Ask for help! The lark did that!” Meenaksi hit her forehead! Indeed, that was it. She had a useless father and mother who would come to her help if she were to ask for it. “Help! Help! Save me! Save me!”, she screamed. There was clear and present danger in her screams. The yellow door of her home was flung open and both her father’s and mother’s heads peeped out. Their faces went from being frustrated to scared and worried. “Oh, Meenakshi!” they screamed as they ran to her. Her father lifted her off the tree gently and her mother showered her with kisses before giving her head a whack. “What a stupid girl, you are, Meenakshi! Why did you climb so high?” Meenakshi was wrapped in a sweet and spicy mix of hugs and scoldings. She grinned a naughty grin at Mannathi who winked at her before grinning back. It was the grin of two friends who knew very well that sometimes it is okay and (and even fun) to act stupid and then ask for help from people you love.

Notes 1. Peninsular rock agama lizards exhibit sexual dimorphism (i.e.,) the boys look distinctly different from girls. The boys (like in most species that are not human), look spectacular compared to the plain olive brown females. 2. The Indian bushlark is a sweet sounding bird found in arid areas with grass and bushes. They are coloured in dull brown which camouflages them excellently in such habitats. 3. Male peninsular rock agamas take up higher perches when compared to females. They engage in head push-up displays to hold territory. 4. Visual evidence of this incident happening is provided below.

# Refer to the Mannathi story “How the spider got her signature, a Mannathi Tale”, in the March 2020 issue of the Halli Times ! Agnibarathi is an aspiring photographer who enjoys telling his six year old stories from various corners of the world. He is heavily inspired by the Ents from the Lord of the Rings by J R R Tolkien and would like to be able to grow things.

Gallery ~ Lalitha T Arun

Dawn ~ Vaidehi Sriram She settled down to a long nap after the afternoon meal. Stretching her limbs languorously, she slipped into deep sleep. The sun blazed, making the green leaves wilt. There was an occasional rustle of dried leaves when someone chose to turn over in bed. She stirred lightly, looked around with eyes half-open, to make sure all was well. Mother was nearby, so she had nothing to fear. She started to play a game: find the sun. She closed her eyes and moved her head from side to side, trying to find out where exactly the sun was. She stopped, and looked up. Sure enough, there he was, the big ball of light, shining right into her eyes. She went back to sleep, content. She was getting bored of the game, anyway. Imagine, born this morning, and bored of the sun already! The sky was darkening, she could feel it within her eyes. She slowly opened them, looking around with panic. What was happening? Why is everybody up? Is something bad going to happen?

She tried to close her eyes and play her game again. She moved her head from side to side, and opened them. The sun was not shining into her eyes now; he seemed to have moved a little. How would she know? His light had become so feeble now. Is he angry with me? Perhaps I should not have been so arrogant… She could feel Mother standing next to her, but with every passing moment, Mother was slowly going out of focus. Right now, she was just a grey shadow, a grey shadow tossing its mane. The sun was nowhere to be seen. There was just a touch of red in the sky. Had the sun forgotten to take his halo with him? But where was He? She whimpered. Mother was not visible at all now, though she could feel her heavy breathing. The earth was damp under her feet.What happened to Mother? Why can’t I see her anymore? The breeze was upon her shoulders and she began to feel cold. She moved closer to what seemed like Mother. Everything was still again, like it was in the afternoon. Only, there was no sun now.

Thrown into an inky darkness. Was life over already? She thought, for a moment, that she was back in Mother’s womb again. Of course not! It was so warm and cosy in there. Here it is so dark..and cold. She heard strange noises and rumbles that did not let her sleep. Fear was hanging from her throat, threatening to slit it if she opened her mouth. She crouched low, wrapped in the blanket of blackness that had descended upon her. Who is this dark demon? He stole the sun and now, He is after my life! Mother seemed to be fast asleep. Was she not caught in this mire, too? Perhaps I’ve suddenly gone blind. Shuddering at the thought, she tried to calm herself. Not a soul around to help, she was sure it was the end of the world. She let out a feeble cry and braced herself for the floods, the volcanoes, the meteor rains and the earthquakes that would soon follow. She thought of her life, one day old. One day old and not a good deed to my name..why, I even got bored of the sun! Trembling in the cold, she collected all the unsaid goodbyes. Poor sun, he deserved it the most !

What would I not do to see his bright face now? She shut her eyes tight, trying to remember all the good days she had in Mother’s womb, and waited for Nemesis.She could feel the earth shaking beneath her. Frantically, she opened her eyes, prepared for the worst. It was not an earthquake, only Mother, walking about.There was the sun, shining down, as though nothing had ever happened! He seems so cheerful for one who was kidnapped..He smiled at her, blushing. He was redder and cooler than he had been. She played her game again. This time he did not let her down. Tears rolled down her cheeks in happiness. She felt grateful for having been given another chance. It was dawn, yet again, in the history of Life. Vaidehi Sriram is a teacher and mentor who is extremely passionate about pedagogy. She enjoys long conversations, reading, writing and music.

Art by Preethi Shankaran

Halli Times June 2020

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