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To survive, you must tell stories...

Carrying Tales. Life is really just stories strung together. If we stop and think for a moment, the most mundane of situations have the potential to

transform into an interesting anecdote. We only have to summon the inner child within us to spot that unrealised yarn.Children listen keenly when we narrate stories about ourselves because they see themselves in us. So when we tell them tales from our childhood, they visualise more clearly, feel more deeply and accept more kindly. Our frailties are embraced and our failures are forgiven. It is surprising how harsh and unforgiving we are to them for similar inadequacies. While we recollect incidents about friends and family, remember moments of triumphs and tribulations, and recall stories of our struggle to succeed, we are actually assuring our kids that things will be okay despite the blips and the bogs. In the process, we also see our children through the prism of our imperfect childhood. We become wiser parents, appreciative of their efforts and accommodative to their inabilities. Thus, in turn, we become forgiving children, letting go of the grudges and grievances we had so carefully nurtured against our parents. A different kind of truth

Stories are a different kind of truth. They show. They do not tell. They can renovate our pitiless memories into gentle sepia-toned experiences. The formidable past is not so formidable when it becomes a story. Our deep-rooted fears become battle scars, proudly worn and displayed. We heal when we see the wonder in the eyes of our children, as they laugh and cry and affirm our actions or inactions. Our stories, both root them and help them soar. Our children inherit the bow of our eyebrows and the flare of our nostrils. They inherit that stubborn curl and that dented chin. They also inherit our history and our stories. Our past can help them manoeuvre their future. And our stories, however petty and trivial they may seem, are a legacy they will bequeath to their own. Stories are a long continuum, collective wisdom, that can never be found in a book. Stories, if not shared, are mere words straggling together. But when they are told and retold, they teach us to deal with living and loving in the most wonderful way.


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