Once upon a time

Story-telling is an art, and not all are capable of telling a story, be it real or fiction, in an engaging way. Nor is it easy for one to learn this art; but lucky is the one who can tell a story meaningfully and engage a person or persons. This art can be likened to that of painting; here one is required to pain with words, the seemingly lifeless words becoming alive with the feelings, sentiments, breath of life blown into them by the narrator. Once the canvass is full of color, one may not even see a picture, but an array of color so soothing that the viewer may even forget the central object of the art work! Such is the work of art that story-telling involves one into! And fortunately this has been one of the favorites of our foreparents, and I was fortunate to listen to at least a handful of stories from my grandmothers, and some of them are still ringing in my ears.

But why have I landed into the art of story-telling? This is one art I love a lot; I like to tell stories, both borrowed and creation of my mind. Sometimes these stories pop up in my mind when I least expect them; when I find myself helpless, a dose of story is enough to change the situation. But some of the great masters I have come across in life have had a million stories up their sleeves, and they have left behind a rich repertois of stories that I find myself so small in front of them. To enjoy a story is also part of the art of story-telling; here one tells the story to oneself, translating the words on a page into living words.

There is nothing called good and bad stories, and I wonder if there are first class stories and third class stories; they all depend on how they are expressed. But when a story-idea is ripe, it may be capable of enthralling the reader and the narrator beyond all expectation. I have developed a way of measuring the influence of a story in me, by observing deep within how long the story has stayed in my mind. If I wake up the following morning and still realize that I remember the story, then I can tell that it has the potential to touch others too.

But I cannot forget the one man in history, who can be considered an ace story-teller, and many of his stories have become the skeleton of many blockbusters in the Hollyhood. Jesus the Nazarene. His stories touched the core of one’s heart, and they still disturb many men and women in our societies; and such are the stories which I would like to go back again and again to draw strength and sustenance from. Another man who loved to tell stories is Anthony de Mello, and his books are full of stories, some of which are too profound for me to digest.

There are a few stories, which have become part of my psyche, and whenever I think of them (and a couple of them were told by my grandmother), something in me stands up; there are stories which were related to our social status, and it is possible they may die with me. But there is a desire deep within me to fill my world with stories that not only entertain, but also take the listeners to their inner selves, where they can meet their true selves, without the need to put on a mask or hide the ugly part of their selves. That is the tip of the iceberg of my mission.