SHORT STORIES FOR CHILDREN by ZEENAT
IQBAL HAKIMJEE (JR104MH09)
The Damaged Horse 
FOR hundreds of years the horse was the most common means of transport.
Before the tractor was invented, the horse was often used to pull farm
machinery. It is still used for work on ranches, but most horses are now kept
for pleasure. People ride them, watch them perform and enjoy them in sports
such as Polo, Hunting and Racing.
The following is the story of a racehorse and the
people to whom he belonged. It was the day of the Derby. The participants with
their horses, manes trimmed and shining, got ready for the pistol shot, which
would indicate the start of the race. It was an event, which people really
looked forward to. It was a sport enjoyed by the young and old alike. Bets were
placed on the horses and the winners left with a handsome sum of money.
Mark, the proud owner of
a racehorse, whispered something into Godfather’s (the name of the horse) ear.
It was these ‘sweet nothings’ that brought a smile to Godfather’s lips. It
definitely contributed to Godfather’s victory in the race. The owner also gave
some advice to David, the jockey. David was a short and strong fellow. He
fitted snugly in the saddle, just as a glove fitted the hand. He had started
his career as a jockey with Godfather and longed to end it with him also. The
age of any horse can be told by looking at its teeth; Godfather’s teeth showed
that he still had plenty of race years to go before he retired.
Also present was Mark’s
wife. She always accompanied him to the race. “Godfather is really lucky. He
gets all your attention.” She would tell him. But deep down in her heart she
knew, that she would not have had it anyway else. She cared for Godfather, too,
and would tend to his needs whenever she could spare some time. “I think the
trough of water is empty,” she’d say with concern beckoning her staff to fill
the trough up. An insect bit Godfather once. Richard, the horse keeper, bathed
and dressed his wound so well that Godfather was up and about in half the time
than the usual. Godfather loved Richard and he would show it by cuddling up to
him. This was Godfather’s family.
The people who cared for
him, who were responsible for his consecutive victories. They were all there
with him to see him run the race.
A few minutes before the
race was to begin, David mounted Godfather and rode down to the start. But
little did Mark or David know what was in store for them. Another horse owner,
who was Mark’s enemy, just could not bear Godfather winning all the time. And
to make sure that Mark’s horse would not win this time, he thought of a plan.
He suggested to the trainer of his horse that they must visit Godfather’s blacksmith.
“It won’t take us very long” he sneered. The trainer who was a little confused
asked, “what wouldn’t take us long?” To this the vicious man replied, “You’d
see.”
The deceitful man, when
the time was just right (as he knew the time Godfather came to the blacksmith
as well as the time when the
Blacksmith left his seat) damaged
Godfather’s shoe. The nail ends that showed through the horse’s hoof were wrung
off and turned back. He straightened them just a little in the hope that the
shoe would come off during the race. He damaged the shoe so deftly that
Godfather did not feel it immediately.
Finally the starter
signaled the start of the race. Godfather took the lead, so erect, so graceful.
His poise was proof of the fact that he would be very hard to defeat. There he
went like a bolt of lightning. He moved so fast that just when you thought you
had focused on him, he moved ahead. He had almost reached the finishing line,
when the nail of the shoe straightened and got loose, unbalancing Godfather,
who stumbled and stopped in his tracks before any further damage could take
place. A race official came to guide them off the track. Godfather, Mark,
Richard, Mark’s wife, David were all shocked. They failed to understand what
had happened.
Some time after they had
recovered from the shock of the damaged horseshoe, Mark and the trainer
accompanied Godfather to the blacksmith’s. They were there to have Godfather’s
old shoes removed. Also present was the man who had damaged Godfather’s shoe.
He was there with his horse.
As though instinctively,
Godfather trotted towards this man and lifted the foot with the damaged
horseshoe and started nodding.
This scared the evil man
and before the horse could burst into a fit of anger, he confessed: “I I, I,
was responsible,” he stuttered and went down on his knees to apologize. Mark,
who was a soft man, accepted his apology. Thus ended the story of the evil man
and his horse and Godfather awaited his next victory yet again.
Not Guilty
MY hand shook as I held the test
tube containing the concentrated acid. I was already well aware of what would
happen if even a little bit of this harmless looking solution fell onto you.
With my heart pounding like a drum inside my chest, I walked cautiously towards
the chemistry lab.
Just as I entered the
lab, the bell rang. It was time for our physics test. Not finding anything to
put the acid in, I reached for that drinking glass lying on the far end of my
table. Quickly pouring the water in it into the sink I replaced it with the
acid in my hand. And after placing the glass back on the table, I raced into my
physics class forgetting about the acid.
The door of my bedroom
flew open and there stood my father, shouting at the top of his voice, telling
me to get ready or I would be late. I jumped out of bed, got ready and left for
school without breakfast.
I was late as usual. I
also had detention as usual, but today I felt a bit disturbed, not knowing why,
I tried to catch a wink just before the class started. But just as I was about
to fall asleep, the classroom door swung open and there he stood, the man we
all dreaded the most, our Principal. He told me to follow him towards his
office. I knew I was in some kind of trouble.
With trembling legs and
sweaty hands I followed him to his office like a slave following his master. In
his office the principal pointed towards me to take a seat next to a person who
seemed to be an inspector. I did as I was told. I still did not know what it
was all about until the inspector mentioned the word ‘acid’. I slapped my
forehead and cursed myself. I knew I had forgotten something. Anyway, the
inspector told me that there was an accident yesterday, which involved the
teacher and the acid, and they had reason to believe that I was responsible for
it. This really came to me as a shock. With my mouth wide open, I stared at the
inspector.
Gaining some confidence
finally I replied, “But sir, I also left the chemistry lab with everyone else
when the period finished,” trying to act as innocent as possible.
But the expression on
the inspector’s face remained the same as he said, “But you did re-enter the
room after everyone else had left and you also put the fatal substance in the
glass”.
I knew I had done something very wrong, so I
told the entire story about the previous day’s incident to the inspector. By
the time I finished my story, my eyes were, full of tears and I was almost on
the verge of crying. The principal, feeling sorry for me, asked me to go back
to my class.
I spent the whole day in
misery until after school got over. The Principal called me and took me to the
hospital where the teacher was admitted. I gathered some flowers and went to
see the teacher alone. As I entered the room, my eyes were already full of
tears and when I saw the teacher’s condition, I felt miserable, I wanted to
kill myself after looking at the teacher but there was nothing I could do.
The teacher slowly asked
me to come closer. I sat beside him and gave him the flowers and at last
managed to say “Sorry”. And even after what I had done to kill him, the teacher
took my hand and replied, “Don’t worry, it could happen to anyone”.
The Final Plunge
THE morning rays of the sun filter through the glass in the cell at
Alcatraz; this is the only connection with the outside world. As Joseph, who is
serving a death sentence, basks in the rays, he hears a shriek from a cell down
the corridor. The sound is familiar. It is from an inmate who is mentally
deranged. The attendant serves him breakfast consisting of dried toast and tea.
With a wicked look on his face he tells Joseph, “eat up, you are lucky to get
this”. Everybody in Alcatraz is wicked, thinks Joseph.
The time for menial labor
nears, but he has already ‘burnt’ his breakfast, so he prepares to work on an
empty stomach. The warden opens his cell and leads him to where he will be
breaking stones with a pick. The warden tells a young boy, “The more hours you
put into your work, the shorter the time of your sentence shall be.” Joseph’s
eye focuses on the boy. What could his crime be? He had stolen some goods from
a grocer’s at gunpoint. The grocer had tried to stop him and the gun that the
boy fired in panic had hit him. The boy was given a lawyer, who had lost the
case to the grocer.
Joseph’s son must be of
the same age. His thoughts wander back to the times when he used to perch his
son on the bicycle to drop him to school. “Come on son, we will stop on the way
and you can buy yourself a chocolate.” He loved his children. He also had a
daughter. His daughter loved to listen to the stories that he would tell. She
sat on his lap, with her gaze fixed on him, devouring every word of the story,
he uttered. As he reflected on the past, he felt his heart sink. But did it
sink? The prison had really hardened him; hardened a man who was capable of
being passionate to the letter E. and how did this come about?
He had been caught red
handed, holding the weapon that had killed Brown. Brown was a cruel arms
dealer. He had many enemies. They were all out to get him. He sold inferior
arms and a couple of times they had backfired causing deaths. It so happened
that Joseph visited the arms shop on the day that the dealer was killed. He was
lying dead on the floor when Joseph entered the shop. As he picked the gun that
had killed the dealer, somebody entered the shop and thought that he had caught
the murderer red handed.
And here he was in the
cell serving punishment for a crime that he had not committed.
Again his thoughts went
back to his son. Well, they did every now and then. But this time a tear rolled
down his cheek. So he was still capable of crying. Like all fathers, he had
been full of ideas of what he would do with his son’s life, when he was born.
Another tear and another, they just would not stop.
Not long after, news
spread in the prison about a team of producers arriving from Hollywood. They
were looking for a stuntman. One day Joseph found himself facing a producer.
Joseph was a well-built man. The producer looked closely at him. “You are the
perfect choice”. Then the producer briefed him. “I shall come with my unit”.
The film had a shot of a plunge from a bridge into a rapid flowing beneath the
bridge. The rapids were also full of rocks the producer told him, “If you live
after the final plunge, you are free. What do you stand to lose?” He further
added, “You are serving a death sentence, so even if you die from your plunge,
it should not make much of a difference”.
The above arrangement
had been made between the film folk and the prison authorities.
Wearing the costume that
had been given to him by the clothes designer for the film he stood on the
bridge from where he was required to dive. The film unit took many takes and
finally the day drew close, when he was to take the final plunge from Alcatraz.
He would either live or die.
He stood on the bridge,
poised to dive, his eyes scanning the rocks and the empty spaces in between. He
knew the empty spaces, so well. He knew them with his eyes closed. He had
studied them thoroughly. He saw his son waiting for him on the bank with an
outstretched arm beckoning Joseph to come to him.
The signal for the dive
was give, and with the cameras in position, Joseph leapt into mid-air and the
outstretched arm met him as his head touched the water. He had made it. The
rock was at a short distance, but he had made it.
He did not surface for
quite some time. He was underwater and he would not surface now. Not till he
could hold his breathe. He was free and he did not want even the slightest
obstacle to come in his way. Maybe if he were to surface soon, an obstacle
would come in his way. He was disillusioned with the human race and he had
grounds for this. He had just held the gun that had killed the arms dealer and
they had locked him up for eternity till this producer came along. And it
seemed like his son’s arm was beckoning him. He could not wait to be reunited
with his family and now it seemed like the time to be with his family was near.
Hope against hope of meeting them now seemed possible.
My Friend the Tree
YOU should have heard it. First there was a loud creaking noise and then a
thud followed by a ‘Whoosh!’
Whatever could have
happened? I jumped up from my typewriter. I was in the midst of writing a story
when I ran to the window to see what was going on. There, right below my
window, lay the great old pine tree.
On going outside to
examine the tree, I noticed that it had actually broken into half. The trunk
had split from the middle.
Years ago, such trees
were a common sight for me when I was a boarder at a Convent in Murree.
It seemed such a pity for this particular tree had taken
twenty years or so to reach its present size. And now, in one brief moment, it
had become a wreck, only fit for firewood. It had provided shade for us, as it
stood tall, close to my house.
The cause of its decay
was not hard to find. Right where the break had come, I could see the telltale
signs of decay. Nobody had noticed this earlier. Indeed, to all appearances,
this tree was as strong and healthy as any other near it, but the weakness was
there just the same, slowly getting worse month after month and year after year.
As I recollected
memories of my past, I saw myself clad in jeans, about to climb my tree house
that was built on this particular tree. I remembered the immense pleasure it
had brought friends, my family and me. Could the place be such a great source
of pleasure? This was a question that crept into the heads of my houseguests,
when I would tell them of my tree house. And then I’d take them there and they
too went away convinced that it was.
Experiencing the songs
of the birds, the fresh air touching the cheeks, the sight of the sun and the
moon, made them all wish that they too had a place like this.
As for my children, I
had tied a hammock on the tree so that they slept well.
Alas, it was neglect,
sheer neglect, which had brought about the decay. I was too busy enjoying my
life and my husband was busy earning money for our family. Still sometimes I
talked to my tree. Maybe the wind whistling through the branches was my reply.
Yes, I think my tree would respond to me this way. My question-answer session,
as I spoke about it to the outsiders, seemed like my imagination going wild to
them.
As it now lay there,
reminding me that it was only good for firewood, I became sad. My son, who was
my best companion too, came to me. He had sensed my sorrow.
My young man, my son,
was a champion cyclist and he rode around in the neighbourhood. He got me
specimens of trees and told me to select one for planting. Such gestures of his
and the circulars that my husband brought home full of information from his horticultural
society meetings, did make me feel a bit better. Maybe I too should start
thinking about a new tree in the garden.
One day as I took my
early morning walk, I saw a small plant staring at me from the base where my
tree had once stood. The seed of the parent tree had given birth to this plant.
Its roots taking possession of the space. A ripe green shoot was giving me
proof of the continuity of life.
Another story built up in my mind. A story
with a happy ending. This little plant gave me reason to be joyous.
My husband explained the
phenomenon to his society. And I did not tell him that the reason behind the
growth of my plant was my talking to it. My friend had left a souvenir in its
place. One that would always keep its memory alive in my heart.
The Missing Jewel
THE queen wore it in her crown. She looked so regal with the jewel shining
in her crown, like water in a pond with the sun shining above it the jewel was
priceless and the price was determined, but not so accurately. It could not be
so, as this particular jewel had a long story behind it.
And so it goes. To the
North of the equator and in the tropic of Capricorn, there existed a land of
which two rival bodies claimed ownership. These rival bodies that co-existed
previously had now developed a lot of differences. Obviously so, as the new
generation came forth, it came with its own peculiarities. The foremost
difference was religion and at the bottom of the list was the dress. These
differences grew into enormities, which again led to war, which was sparked off
by a country that ruled over them.
In this land was born
Ali. Ali was taught in school about brotherhood. He was told that all the boys
in his class were his brothers. Ali’s so-called brother Natoo’s father was a
barber. Now it so happened that Ali’s father went to Natoo’s father for a
haircut. Natoo looked down upon Ali’s father. But Ali’s father had no place
else to go since Natoo’s father’s shop was close to his house.
Mr. Brown, who belonged
to the ruling class, thought the world of himself. He would not even sit on the
chair that Ali’s father and his companions had sat on. “Ali, Mr. Brown wants
you to go to his house because he said he wants you to clean it”.
Although it hurt his
pride he knew he would have to go, because Ali’s father worked for Mr. Brown.
It hurt his pride because Mr. Brown thought cleaning was a petty job.
“Ali, pick up this piece
of furniture and put it there”. Mr. Brown pointed with his finger to where he
wanted it kept. The piece of furniture was so heavy that Ali bent over while
picking it up. For his years, such a job was difficult but he had to do it.
Such were the conditions
in which Ali was brought up. Others like Ali and Nattoo fought with each other,
and Mr. Brown cashed in on it. The queen of Mr. Brown’s country was very
dominating and she ruled with an iron fist. She was also known for her greed.
Ali’s father read the
headlines to Ali one day, “Jewel missing from the museum.” Ali listened with
interest and asked his father, “Who could have taken it, Dad?” His father
remained silent, as he did not have the answer.
The next day Ali went to
school carrying a satchel. The topic of discussion among his friends was the
jewel. Natoo agreed with Ali, about the disappearance of the jewel and who was
responsible. They both agreed that the queen was greedy and maybe she could
have done it.
They also knew that the
queen’s minister had visited their land a few days ago. The reason for his
visit was still a mystery. But the timing was similar. The timing of the disappearance
of the jewel and the arrival of the minister. Sure enough, a few days later, a
news item in the newspaper read, ‘Queen’s crown studded with heirloom jewel
missing.’ The jewel belonged to Ali and Natoo’s land as it was mined there. But
Mr. Brown’s people got away with it because Ali and Natoo’s people did not get
along with each other. They were busy fighting with each other.
This lesson of life has
taught them the hard way.
My Teacher
S HE was more like a parent. This I was to discover later. At the start of
the class she stood before her students and the class buzzed with “Absent
Miss!” and “Present Miss!” as she marked the attendance register. School was a
humdrum affair. I must admit that I would get out of bed with great difficulty.
My mom woke me up at the stroke of seven. I longed for an extra half hour on my
warm cozy bed. But she wouldn’t allow it. She came up to my room twice and
sometimes thrice to make sure that I had gotten out of bed.
“I do not want to go to
school today,” I would tell her.
“Nothing doing”, she
would say. The teacher with the spectacles perched on her nose seemed strict in
the beginning. I discovered later that she was just the opposite. Science was
taught to class V students and that’s why I too had to study it no matter how
much I hated the subject. I just couldn’t make heads or tails of what the
teacher was saying.
I was not a clever
student but was rated as being average. Sometimes my results left much to be
desired. Each time my report card was sent home to be signed, I was scolded and
put to shame. Having a clever older brother didn’t do much to improve my
position at home. I played truant from school many times. I was somehow not
very keen to go. And so I would spend the day in a park close to my home.
“Today I was scolded by
my parents for not bringing better results”. I told a friend.
The parents had arranged
for a tutor. They were to realize later that this was not to make much of a
difference. The other day a child psychologist in a television programme said
many things about parent-child relationships. I wondered why my parents didn’t
do what she said. Maybe they weren’t as smart. She said that parents should
praise their child if they do a good deed. They should not scold the children
in front of their friends.
One day, I told my
teacher about my brother. I told her that he was smarter than me. And my
parents did not let both of us forget this. The next day, I was surprised to
see my teacher stay back after school. Her husband came to pick her up but she
refused to leave. Instead she called me to her side and from that day onwards
she made it a point to coach me personally.
One day I went with her
to the park for a stroll and it was there that she explained to me the
importance of parents. She made me realize that parents were seldom wrong,
making me see the logic behind their arguments. She gave me the confidence that
I lacked. It was she who made me a stronger person. The two words, school and
teacher, that had been of no importance to me a short time ago, slowly become
the center of my life. And I became completely engrossed in my studies. We were
nearing the end of the term and our exams started soon.
At least this time I was
not frightened. I clung to the result card in my hand. My heart fluttered as I
made my way home. My mother could not help being surprised upon seeing my
grades. She quickly rang up my father to share the news with him. He came back
home beaming and holding a parcel under his arm. It was a cake to celebrate my
success. But I knew it was more like my teacher’s success. It was she who had
shown me what it meant to have a purpose in life. She had given up her hours of
rest to teach me.
FROM BAD TO GOOD
Isaac and his friends stole money from people. They
also indulged in other bad deeds. A day came when their money finished. They
were used to eating good food. They also wore good clothes. All this they got
from the money they stole.
One of the friends told Isaac, “The boss of the
Plane Company has lots of money”.
“There’s a lot of money
in kidnapping,” said another. “Let’s kidnap his son. We shall get a lot of
ransom money”.
They all sat down
together to make a plan to kidnap the rich man’s son. It would be done in the
afternoon when he was returning from school. They sat in the bushes on the road
from where the boy passed.
School was over. The
boy, Andrew, was returning home. Suddenly someone jumped from behind the
bushes. He put a gag in the boy’s mouth. The boy wanted to scream but he could
not. The bad men bundled him into a car and took him to a house. It was very
far from the city. They had also blindfolded him so that he could not see where
he was being taken. On reaching their destination they carried Andrew inside
and locked him in a room. Then they called up his father to inform him about
the kidnapping. He was told to pay a million rupees.
Andrew’s parents were shocked.
They did not know what
to do. His father tried to arrange for the money.
Meanwhile Andrew and
Isaac met. Isaac brought Andrew something to eat. Andrew thanked him. Sometimes
Isaac would sit with Andrew and talk to him. He told him that he too had once
been a good boy. He had turned bad because he did not have any money. He had
tried getting a job but had failed.
“Do not fret. I shall
ask my father to give you a job, but only if you free me.” Andrew said to
Isaac. Isaac liked Andrew because of his good habits. While eating together
Andrew would always ask Isaac to eat first.
As time passed, they
became good friends. Isaac told Andrew about his friends, “They are very bad
men. I was forced to join them as they have bought me.” And it was true. They
did very bad things to make money.
Isaac was tired of this
life. He wanted to lead a straight and simple life. Isaac and Andrew made a
plan. Isaac would put a sleeping pill into their tea, which would put his
so-called friends to sleep, thus giving them time to escape.
It was 4 O’clock in the
afternoon; Isaac had brought the medicine and put it into their tea. The men
drank it with great enthusiasm. Now he waited for the medicine to show its
effect.
After a while they were
all fast asleep. Isaac opened Andrew’s ropes. They locked the room in which the
men were sleeping and took off with the keys. When Andrew reached home, his
parents were overjoyed. His mother could not stop hugging him. They heard Isaac
and Andrew’s story.
Isaac along with Andrew
met the police. They informed them about the location of the house and the
presence of the dacoits. The police immediately rushed to the scene to find the
men trying to break open the door.
The police unlocked the
door and captured the men. Andrew’s father arranged for Isaac to not be
punished. He also asked Isaac to work for him and so ended the bad chapter in
his life.
Going after the trucks
ONCE my family and me were on our way home from Lahore, I saw a line of
trucks passing us by. There were about ten trucks, all full of tons of boxes.
I asked my father where
those trucks had come from. My father replied that hardly anyone knew anything
about them, as they were all private trucks. I got very curious and asked
father where they were headed. He replied that they were headed towards Pindi
where our house is.
“In fact”, he said,
“their den is just near our house”.
I thought that I would
look for the trucks’ den.
After a while, when we
were about to reach home, I saw the trucks turn into a big garage. Now I knew
exactly where the trucks were. And it would be very easy to find out about
them, as I knew where they unloaded their boxes.
When we reached home, I
ran to my room and called my friend, Asim, to ask him if he knew anything about
the trucks. Fortunately he did. He told me that the truck company’s name was
‘Ahmed Trucks’. The owner of the company owned many trucks. I asked Asim to come
over to my house.
The next morning, Asim
arrived at my house. We talked for some time, and then we started our homework
so that we could be free for the rest of the day. After about two hours we
stopped to take a break. During this time we had lunch and later went to my
room. I asked Asim if he could spend the night at my house. He agreed and
called up his mother to inform her about his plans.
We discussed what we
were going to do. I told Asim that we could go and find out what those trucks
actually carried. Asim agreed, as she too was curious. In the evening, after
telling my mother that we were going out for a ride, we left the house on our
bikes and reached the den in about five minutes. On inspection, we noticed many
sacks lying in front of the trucks. As we were moving around, we heard someone
coming towards us. Quickly, we jumped behind the sacks and hid ourselves.
Suddenly, two men appeared from behind the trucks. More men followed, one of
them holding a remote, pressed a button that activated the garage door. The
door closed immediately. The two men in suits came forward and started talking
about some weapons to be delivered. As time passed, I became very frightened
and wondered if my mother was getting worried at home.
One of the men with a
beard and a moustache asked the other man if he had delivered the weapons. The
other man replied in a voice so low that I couldn’t make out what he said. Just
then I heard a creaking sound. On turning, I saw my friend opening a big box.
He signaled me to keep quiet. He opened the box to unveil weapons of different
kinds. The guns, we noticed, were fully loaded. My friend whispered, “If we
could only frighten these men by using these guns”.
We both gathered our
strength and picked up a gun each. My friend pointed the gun towards the men
and started shooting; one of the men fell to the ground. Another man took a
shot at Asim who fell and hit his head on the ground. Realizing that now I was
left alone to face the gang, I quickly formed a plan in my head.
My best option was to
shoot at the chandelier, bringing it crashing down on some barrels containing
diesel. The outcome was a massive confusion; I grabbed this opportunity to rush
to a phone that I had earlier noticed lying on a table next to the entrance.
I dialed the number of a
nearby police station and urged them to rush to the scene. Moments later,
sirens were heard and the police jeeps came crashing through the metal doors.
The following events passed like lightning with police personnel completely
taking over the scene and successfully managing to arrest the whole gang.
After things returned to
normal, and the criminals had been taken away, the police inspector came up to
us and said, “You must be the brave gentlemen who helped us capture these
dangerous criminals. We had been on the lookout for them for the past two
months but couldn’t get hold of them. We really appreciate your efforts”.
The police
escorted Asim and me home. My parents were indeed shocked to hear of our heroic
efforts, but praised us nonetheless.
The next day, the
newspapers carried full details of our escapade. The story of our bravery
spread like wildfire and we did indeed become heroes’ even if for one day.
