शेर और गधा - टॉलस्टॉय

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They Called Her ‘Fats’- Paro Anand (Part 1)

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They called her ‘Fats’ , although her name was Fatima. And she wasn’t even fat. At least, not in that nice, pudgy way that makes little girls look adorable to adults. She wasn’t adorable or sweet, or anything like the sugar and spice and everything nice that little girls are supposedly made of. In fact, she was BAD. Bad in big, bold, capital letters. She was a fighter and had been so ever since she came to the Home as a four year old orphan. She’d been in another home before that. She’d been left there, at the doorstep – abandoned by the mother no one would ever know. That orphanage looked after infants. Now, at four, she was considered old enough to move to a new environment. She’d never been adopted as some of the other babies had. She hated the new Home from her first day there. She perceived a grayness that filled her with dismay. The forced cheerfulness of the care-mothers and nurses turned to bile inside her and they soon became wary of her sullen, brooding eyes. Never kno
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They Called Her ‘Fats’- Paro Anand (Part 2)

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Now that her nightly ritual had been forcibly brought to a halt, Fatima just had to make the most of the allotted games periods. She had never allowed herself to participate wholeheartedly and now she stood on the outskirts of the action, watching her classmates through brooding eye, wondering which game she should join. And more important and infinitely more difficult, was how she would join it. “Watch out, stupid!” A scream broke into her thoughts. Suddenly she was conscious of people screaming at her. A flash of silver whistled past her face and she watched in shocked amazement as the wooden pole slithered to a halt just beyond her. Almost in a trance, she bent down and picked up the pole and gingerly fingered the sharply pointed end. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” Mrs. Whitbread, the games teacher grabbed the girl by the shoulders and turned her around. “No, no…” Fatima stuttered, still holding onto the pole. “What an idiot you are Fats,” hissed a g
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ज़मीं को जादू आता है - गुलज़ार

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ये मेरे बाग की मिट्टी में कुछ तो है ये जादुई ज़मीं है क्या? ज़मीं को जादू आता है! अगर अमरूद बीजूँ मैं, तो ये अमरुद देती है अगर जामुन की गुठली डालूं तो जामुन भी देती है करेला तो करेला ....निम्बू तो निम्बू! अगर मैं फूल माँगू तो गुलाबी फूल देती है मैं जो रंग दूँ उसे, वो रंग देती है  ये सारे रंग क्या उसने कहीं निचे छुपा रक्खे हैं मिट्टी में? बहुत खोदा मगर कुछ भी नहीं निकला.....! ज़मीं को जादू आता है! ज़मीं को जादू आता है बड़े करतब दिखाती है  ये लम्बे-लम्बे ऊँचे ताड़ के जब पेड़, ऊँगली पर उठाती है तो गिरने भी नहीं देती! हवाएं खुद हिलाती हैं, जमीं हिलने नहीं देती! मेरे हाथों से शर्बत, दूध, पानी  कुछ गिरे सब ठीक डीक जाती है ये कितना पानी पीती है! गटक जाती है जितना दो.. इसे लोटे से दो या बाल्टी से, या नल दिन भर खुला रख दो गज़ब है, पेट भरता ही नहीं इसका  सुना है ये नदी को भी छुपा लेती है अन्दर! ज़मीं को जादू आता है! यक़ीनन जादू आता है!! -गुलज़ार
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