137 items in this section. Displaying page 9 of 14
There was once a man called Paolo Maria Encarnacao Esplendido. He lived at Manaos in Brazil. He was a very rich man. He owned two gold mines and a silver mine. You might think one got more money from a gold mine than a silver mine because gold is worth more than silver. But, as a matter of face, more money goes down gold mines than comes out of them, because people are always digging mines for gold in places where there isn’t enough to make it worth their while....
RED FLOWER: Hello friends. I am Red Flower. I live here in these fields. All the trees, animals, birds, clouds, winds and the sun are my friends. But my best friend is Sun. It is morning now and time for him to come. (Morning comes.) SUN: Hello Red Flower. I bring a good morning to you. Did my sister Night give you any good dreams in your sleep? RED FLOWER: Yes, more than you dear Sun....
This is the story of a mango tree which did not want to spend its life rooted in one place. It wanted to travel, see the world and make new friends. Some excerpts from the first part of an exciting journey, when ‘Mad Mango’ learnt to walk. Many monsoons had come and gone, but Mango still stood in the same place, his hands reaching out for the sky, his feet going deeper and deeper into the earth....
This time, the summer vacation felt longer than normal to Vamshi. Nothing exciting was happening. So many exciting things happened to children in stories but never to Vamshi. He discussed these observations with his friends Jayesh and Samir. “Other kids often get a mystery or something to solve,” he told them woefully. They all pondered in silence. Lives in stories were so exciting. “Maybe we should make things happen,” said Jayesh. “How about creating a mystery for others to solve,” said Samir, suddenly excited....
It all began when Shubhya walked into her friend Diya’s house one evening. The Sharma household was agog with excitement. Shubhya was quite surprised to see so many people at Diya’s house. All of Diya’s aunts, uncles and various cousins were around. Even her grandparents had arrived from Jaipur. Shubhya wondered what was up. Suddenly, Diya spotted Shubhya. “Shubhya”, she shouted excitedly, “I’ve got a baby sister! I had told you that we were going to get a baby....
Poor Gol Matolu’s always sad. Why? I don’t know. She looks like the most perfect elephant. Tall, broad big ears, long strong trunk. No one likes to be sad. So why don’t you come with me to find out what the matter is with Gol Matolu? Ah! Here comes Hornbill, let’s ask him. “Hello, do you know why the elephant’s so sad?” “Of course I know. Just look at her if you will. Would you call her nose a nose or a bill?...
Ten-year-old Preeti looked at the computer screen. She had received an email from the editor of the site Natkhat informing her that her story had been accepted for publication. The editor wanted to create Preeti’s home page and had sent her a questionnaire asking her to list out her favourite things. The very first question was – who is your favourite person? “Mr. Rajeev Kumar, my papa,” she typed out on the keyboard without any hesitation....
Haka and Phaka, the twin jackals were feeding on some juicy berries. They sat eating their berries with their mouths and paws quite blue with the juice. They were enjoying themselves thoroughly when they saw Mor, the peacock, strutting down the path hurriedly. The poor bird looked terrified! “Hey, what’s up Mor bhai? What’s the hurry?” Haka asked. Borrowed Feathers Help [(Story and illustrations first published in WWF India Quarterly Apr-Jun 1995)] “We peacocks are in great trouble Haka....
Not that!” screamed Sheila. “Yes not her!” repeated Anna. “She will stay with us.” Sheila snatched Matilda from her maid and they ran to their room. In case you are wondering what I am talking about or who is Matilda? Well, Matilda is Sheila and Anna’s favorite doll and the children, along with the maid, were sorting out their old toys to be given to poor children on Christmas. The Fairy Doll [Illustrations by Kusum Chamoli] Matilda was a funny little doll, stuffed with bits of old clothes....
Imagine this scene: In a village hut, dimly lit by a diya, members of the household sit in a frightened circle, watching a tantrik muttering mantras and performing strange rituals with a skull perhaps, the thighbone of a sheep, and other items. Sitting among the women is one who has wild staring eyes, untidy hair and a strange expression. She speaks in a voice that doesn’t seem to be her own. Everyone present is convinced she has been possessed by an evil spirit which the tantrik must now get out of her....
Source: https://www.pitara.com/fiction-for-kids/stories-for-kids/
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