Bread Crumbs on the floor: trash or inspiration?

via Daily Prompt: Crumb

Imagine kids playing on the floor with bread crumbs. Simple enough but not in a mental hospital of the early twentieth century. Systems weren’t made to nurture the child, but to discipline them, even the mentally handicapped. The staff at the hospital complained about how gross and nasty it was, the nature of kids playing with bread crumbs on the floor!
There comes along Maria who has a soft heart for children, a great motivation to learn, and subsequently to teach: at any cost. She is, on the contrary, inspired by the same sight that had sickened the nurses.

Using that inspiration, she goes onto making a wholesome education program for little children, which we know today as the Montessori pre-school, and she detailed her philosophy and research in several books, to substantiate her beliefs in the potential of self-education by little children.
Doctor Maria Montessori, a pioneer female engineer, and then a doctor by choice, followed her dreams against many an opposition, from family and professionals alike.
There is a known incident about her parents arguing and she took a step stool, put it in their midst, stood up on it and held their hands together tightly.  She won many a war like that with her silent strength and courage to face the conservative men of her time, even practising on cadavers alone at night, since it wasnt okay for women to do such things in front of men. Hats off!

🙏Happy World Peace Day!
I’d be happy with a few crumbs of peace😉 too!

 

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Mr. Fops!

Mr. Fops bumbled around in the business of politics. He stumbled and bungled his way through bumbling speeches, too.
A Fops favourite was time spent around a bumbly tubby, cute and cuddly.
But having two left feet and being all thumbs, he was no great shakes as a leader.

Have you met Mr. Fops Bumble anywhere? I think I lost him. In brief grief.

Dad! What have you done😂

Recently, I was telling my dad one of his grandkids quotes. You know, those lines that make the family pride index rise hiGH!

I justified my kid for some obscure reason and said (thanked my stars later for doing so… Stay with me😉)

“Papa, you know it’s like:

And he said: “But that’s the opposite, isn’t it? Stars are further away!”

I was stumped and then burst out laughing, once the visual hit me😉😄, as I put my phone down! Yes, the tubelight went flicker, flicker, ON!

I see this poster atleast once everyday. You see, we get used to what is familiar. Then you meet people who agree with you, Noddy, and we move on.

Life changes, when there is dissonance, a cognitive electrocution, that makes you wonder, “What happened?!” Lot of my students go, what just happened with my off-brand humor. But when it happens to you… !

💙Thank you, Papa, for agreeing, and then not agreeing some😘😄

😝Btw: do you see how many different people said the same quote😂

Expectation

Me and My BIG Mouth 2

This story was crafted about seven years ago for children. I’d be thrilled if you read it to your children, nieces, nephews, and tell me their reactions. I can add a quiz if you like. Goal was that by the time they read the story, they’d memorize all the facts involuntarily. Part one was posted as a trial in Oct 2016, one of my two earliest blogs.

Leadership games
As the day got warmer, our playtime came closer. We were rambunctious in the gym. We went into a frenzy of sudden energy. We made a lot of noise and went into the water sparring, head-banging, some even tried their tails at tail-walking competitions. What we loved to do most after that was lollygagging around floating under water and then rest up in a mud-pack. Arrey Mugger*, what a day!
A few years later, we were preparing for the annual Head-Slapping contest. The head-slapper with the loudest pop following the splash as we fall back into the water, was recognized as the strongest crocodile around. It was a very close contest between me and my best friend, Snap. My friends teased me about my show off victory jig as I danced my way into the night swimming with pride and then thrashing my tail side to side like a mad-croc on land. I was happy to see every croc lift their heads out of the water exposing their throats. They had peacefully submitted to my leadership.
Only Flapper was not happy, but then he hardly ever was. He got angry easily. You could tell by the way he shook his ear flaps. There are always those dissenting kinds.

Love of my Life
And then it happened. The envy of all females, Snip, the most beautiful crocodile, came my way. My musk glands were scenting invitations and bubbles were all over my mouth and nostrils. Omigosh! Was this love at first sight! She arched her back and raised her head with the mouth open and I put my best foot forward and rested my head on hers. Then we pushed each other to the water, checking out each others’ strength.
I sent aqua-mail to her and she replied. Her infrasound was like music to my ears. She even knew the torso muscle squeeze…the water bubbled up and bounced off her back.
Flapper was jealous. He challenged me to sparring and head banging for hours before giving up in submission.
Snip was mine. She was proud of me. We circled around each other, bellowing and grunting to acknowledge each other and basked in the sun together.

A dream home
I felt like an Egyptian god and life was a sudden celebration, the hard times always leading to good times, such as finding Snip. More than dreaming of milk and cake mythologies, we talked about the preference to be a visual treat, than someones’ food or a vain accessory.
Since when did humans become part of our food chain? And why do they love our skin more than us; for purses, shoes, wallets, and other vanities. If they must hunt us, then we have to protect our species from humans at any cost. “Let them meet me one on one and without technology. I will show them who’s stronger! First they take away our land, and…”
Snip looked at me … and … If looks could kill, I’d be dead already! She reminded me, “We must have hope. Haven’t we seen good people too, who take care of us … those that come to visit us?”
Yes, we had grown and now wished we could make this world of ours a nice and safe place for all animals and humans, together. With the sun shining warmly on our backs, breeze rustling the leaves on the trees, and water lapping the shores gently; our hopeful hearts beat in unison, dreams spelling harmony.

The End

Notes:

*Arrey Mugger: Arrey is an exclamation like Oh Man! Mugger is short for Muggarmuch, the Indian equivalent for crocodile.

Craft

UN-even. That’s Odd!

“I picked up a gun because I wanted to fight for electricity in my village.” A 15 year old boy.

I can never forget your face. Or, your words. Spoken so innocently, with a slightly puzzled look on the face, on which the soft hairs hesitating to peek out, avoiding the sharp blade of a razor yet; committing to living on the run, under live fear with speeding bullets, and displaying a social responsibility of a level, way beyond your age.

You said that you had trusted someone who convinced you that the only way to achieve your goal was to pick up the gun and join them. Your regrets, there was no turning back.

No turning back because you were branded.

Branded as a terrorist.

I had never felt so puzzled about how to help someone in such a huge predicament, a person who was yet a child, brainwashed so simply, with noble intent, but the glamour of gun, not a razor for your first shave; overtook all your thoughts and actions and led you, in ignorance, to  the most complicated struggle in today’s world.

I apologize to you since I wasn’t half as good as you at such a young age. I did not even know how to help you decades ago. The UN-even had shut down their offices in your war-torn region. That was pretty odd!

I apologize for the world we have created where irrational sense of money and power rule. A lot of changes have taken place in our world, but all the apparently amazing education isn’t helping people rethink their priorities.

I am sorry that we have gathered so much knowledge, but have unevenly prioritized land and natural resources to the extent of accepting violence as a means to justifying the human hunter-gatherer status.

Defending the cause of civilization, religion, and righteousness of ‘our way’, many of us have been aggressive in proving the man across the border wrong. I hang my head in shame before you.

I understand less than you, decades later, about this game of an Uneven balance of power, been played since a millennium by monarchs trying to win the best for their own people, own families.

I comprehend even less about how we ended up calling countries defeated in war, lost all their treasures to the invaders, as the Third World. Not giving them a chance to recover from imposed expectations, and putting them through a cycle of mass abuse, and changing the ball game of life in so many ways that the standard of comparison becomes a totally unfamiliar concept.

A strange comparison: First, Second, and Third world. The winning aggressors have tried to give back through donations to the down-trodden overseas, but I’m sorry I do not know how to explain to the world that when we give for free, we further demean the human being or race.

I hope your people and the educated, both, can come to terms with the fact that monarchy, imperialism, slavery, business houses, and uneven education cannot but merely change the  greedy face of social evils that besot our Earth, our dirt, our soil, our Mother.

I want you to know that you alone are not a terrorist. We all are. We terrorize people everyday. We all have our odd aspirations for accumulating through competition, and we are terrorists in politics, in education, in business, in gender, and even in pretense. Who coined this word and to what end?

I’m devasted that drugs, guns, factory labor, advertising, and sex slavery are the mean businesses targeting children on the sly. The only hope I have is that we can redefine civilization and happiness therein. The only hope I have, is for children like you, to be saved from these narrow definitions of crime and terrorism.

Until then, I believe we aren’t raising children for the future. We have ended up only hunting and gathering criminals. To an extent of alienating masses of minor cultures who have taken on training of terrorists in protest, because we do not look beyond our own petty interests.

P.S. The author is presenting a perspective on what causal factors may have lead to or bred terrorism. Criminal activity by intent, is not suggested to be excused, but variables contributing to increase of such activity, need to be studied and eradicated. And author is of the opinion that justice system must be respected.

Moody Sirius Black

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Moody

Sirius Black. At best, he can be described as good at heart with side effects from a scarred childhood. Simply put, he was unfortunate to have begun his life tumbling around on streets, till he was picked up for adoption.

Blessed with good looks and eventually, a spoilt upbringing, he begins to display a strong streak of narcissism through his teen years. He was adopted by this horrible family who loved him to death. To make it worse, group hugs, girly kisses, and early popularity at the dog park gets to his head. He begins to believe that he can flash his gorgeous eyes, show his cool dude swag, and display a sassy walk to impress all those readily-swooning ladies.

Much like a human teenager, he is moody and impulsive, has no consideration for consequences, has bouts of all about himself, and likes to have junk treats on demand. I wonder though, if he ever understood his thoughts that led to his sudden actions? Regardless, he loves and lives life on the edge.

Never knowing, when he’ll get his next meal, walk, or hug from his working family, he tries to get all the love he can from anyone anywhere. Therefore, it is impossible to blame him, but being popular and attractive, narcissism comes naturally to him. Quite useless to the lab clan, he doesn’t step beyond a foot deep in water. He passed the swim test once in deeper waters, but that’s it. Though he’s quite a go-getter at hunting rabbits or rats, an avid risk-taker, but retrieving things – ends at effort three.

He has done purposeless killings of very young wild rabbits and rats. To that extent, he is a classified murderer. What makes him playfully torment the dying without realizing the awfulness of the deed? On top of it, he was expelled from kindergarten, because he didn’t listen to every command at four to five months of age. Two months with new owner was considered enough. So for several months he had a thing for judgmental eyes, and he even chewed up the eyes off Buckbeak, the hippogriff. After a misdeed like that, he would show regret, look down, and slink away.

Is being over-privileged good or bad? Just like, does doing terrible things, make him terrible? Can he be called a bully? When one weighs all his personality traits, his unconditional love; his protective, not jealous attitude; and his eventual remorse at pinching his own family members on the butt (due to his teething phase mainly, maybe shepherding instinct); overrides all, and the four-legged case, is called to a close.

Lately, he has shown newer qualities such as controlling the pressure of his teeth to communicate or suggest different things with varied growly sounds, reminds me of texting abbreviations that teens use. To invent his own language, The Canine Morse Code; and show a variety of feelings through the Sirius Remorse Code, puts him at par with many two-legged intellectuals of our time.

A good measure of intelligence quotient is usually music. Though he has tried some tunes of his own, the one that shocks him the most, is rather unusual, umm … the rear kind. He reacts with a sudden movement turning his head trying to locate his sound, waits for the tune to end, looks around embarrassed and confused, and tries to understand insensitive human laughter as a response to his discomfort.

He is a very curious being who will always have amazing adventures*; for all who wander are not lost! After all, he returns home, and is often found waiting at the doorstep, before the search is called off. Knowing that he now listens to commands and always does his best, his family forgives him for all his sins, mainly because he accepts people for who they are.

 

  • If he can get off the leash. Very rare, since his second birthday.

Daily Prompt: Tart

Tart

via Daily Prompt: Tart

The King of Tart,                                  He changed some hearts.
All on an Election day.

 
The Naive of Hearts,                           Challenged the tarts,                            And swept them euphemistically away.

 

 

The Tweeter King,
He kiss’d many maids,
Which flexed the queen’s full score.

 

He shooshed those maids,                        Yakkity yakked s’more
And sweeped them under the door.

 

The queen of hearts, fraught back the tarts,                                               She tried so hard, fried the bard,                                                And vowed she’d email no more.

 

But the King of Infamous tarts, spewed out s’more,                          And beat the hopefull’s sore!

What to do, ado to do?                                A do or not to do,                             again da big quest-on!

Or Land, Oh!

Or

This prompt just made me laugh! If you are the parent of a teen, you know what I mean😉

“Son, what would you like to do today, movie or Main Event?”

“Or.”😄

Give a choice, and you are stuck in Or Land. Very annoying at times, but clever.

image

Clinton or Trump? After being in Or Land for a year or so, the people have spoken.

image

The new Or is, “To Immigrate or Not, that is the Question?” For some it is: “Immigrate out of America?” OR For others: “Immigrate into America?”

Besides, the jokes about the walls on the Mexican border (influx) or the Canadian border (outflux!), or as my cousin declared, “…the last person leaving America, turn out the lights,” most of us adults are going to choose, “Or.”

And, all will be well, around Or Land Oh😉

Picture credits: downloadable free from the Internet.