Daughter: You know what happened in school today?

Dad: What happened?

Daughter: I heard a new story about how the world came into existence and now I’m confused.

Dad: Really? So what story did you hear today?

Daughter: A long, long time ago lived a curious little boy. The boy always asked questions to his parents and they had no answers whatsoever. The parents were simple farmers and wanted the boy to stop bothering them but the boy was persistent and would not stop until he had the answers to his questions.

The boy wanted to know why it rained from the skies, why the grass was green, why pigs could not speak their language, why the sun was visible only during the day, why he had two eyes and two ears but only one nose and one mouth, etc. The boy just wanted to know but his parents had no answers.

So his parents came up with a simple solution. They told him that a mighty being lived up in the clouds and that it created the world as it stands. This, they thought, would satisfy the boy and keep him quiet but they were wrong. The boy began to ask more and more questions. Now he wanted to learn about this mighty being who resided up in the clouds.

To solve this problem the boy’s parents began to tell him elaborate stories and this time the plan worked. The boy loved to hear about the mighty being and was very impressed. Soon he stopped asking questions and instead started narrating those stories to all his friends. Soon enough every child in the village had heard and shared the stories about the mighty being who resided up in the clouds.

When the kids grew up and had babies of their own they passed on the stories to them as well and the cycle continued. The stories got more and more elaborate with time and nobody dared question it lest they incur the wrath of the mighty being who resided up in the clouds.

Soon enough the village had temples and festivals to honour the mighty being. They prayed to him in times of trouble and thanked him whenever they had a bountiful crop.

Dad: That sounds so bogus and far-fetched.

Daughter: Wait there is more. Every region had its own curious child and its own stories trying to explain and make sense of the world around them. So the world was created in one particular way and every region had their own version of it.

Dad: So how exactly was the world created?

Daughter: Nobody knows, Dad. Nobody knows. All we know is that we are all raconteurs.

(To be continued)

Dad: Are you ready?

Daughter: Yes, I am.

Dad: There was once a giant octopus living all alone in the deep waters. As there was no other creature in the waters he often came to the shore to speak with a tall mango tree. They were the best of friends and they always helped each other.

One day, the octopus felt a severe pain in his body. He swam up to the tree and asked for his help. The tree said that he was helpless and there was nothing that he could do. The octopus lay himself down under the shade of the tree and kept crying in immense pain.

The octopus asked the tree for a mango in the hope that it may make him feel better but the tree refused. The tree explained that his mangoes were cursed and that nobody was supposed to eat it.

Daughter: Why were the mangoes cursed?

Dad: Um… because the tree had done something really bad I guess.

Daughter: What had the tree done?

Dad: Or maybe um… he had got it in exchange for the ability to speak.

Daughter: But that doesn’t make sense. If the tree could not originally speak…

Dad: Shush, my little girl. Let me complete the story. So where was I? Right! I was telling you how the tree refused to give the octopus his mangoes. The octopus kept crying in pain. Soon his skin began to pale and he felt extremely weak and vulnerable.

Seeing his state, the tree dropped a mango from one of his branches and warned the octopus that he must hold it in one of his tentacles till sunset before eating it to counter the curse. After sunset it will heal his pain and there will be no repercussions. If he failed to follow the rules then they both must prepare for the worst.

The octopus held the mango for a while but the pain was too much to bear for him. Despite the tree’s protests the octopus said that he could not resist any longer. He apologised to the tree and prayed that the pain will go away on eating it.

As soon as the octopus’ mouth touched the mango he felt relieved. A tiny dot of light came out of his mouth and swallowed the two friends and trapped them inside itself.

Daughter: So that tiny dot was the cause of the pain?

Dad: Yes indeed. But it was no ordinary dot. When the two friends tried to force their way out the dot exploded.

Daughter: Exploded?

Dad: And that’s how the universe came into existence

Daughter: No way! I have so many questions.

Dad: Not now, my girl. I want you to sleep right now. Tomorrow you will go to school and narrate this story to your friend, wouldn’t you?

Daughter: Yes I will. But what was the name of the octopus?

Dad: He was Okto.

(To be continued)

Dad: So what story would you like to hear tonight?

Daughter: Tonight, I am going to tell you a story. I heard it at school today.

Dad: Really? That is amazing. Go ahead.

Daughter: There was once an old lady who lived in a bizarre world where everything was black and white. Humans, animals, trees, flowers, butterflies and even the rainbows were simply colourless. The old lady loved painting and I am sure you can tell that even her paintings were black and white. It was just the way their world worked.

The old lady first started painting when she was a cute, little girl like me. And she was the best painter in the whole wide world. Everyone admired her works and she made her paintings look full of life.

In her dreams, one night, she saw some strange and mysterious things — it was something she could not describe or understand. What she had seen was a world full of colour — just like ours. She saw how everything appeared more beautiful when blessed with colours. When she woke up she wanted to recreate her dream on a canvas. She wanted to create a painting which wasn’t devoid of colours.

Alas, she had only her plain paintbrushes and colours and she felt disappointed. Nevertheless, she convinced herself that she will recreate the scene to the best of her ability. So she dipped her brush into the palette and began working on it. As soon as she put the final stroke on her canvas something magical happened.

Her painting started to grow colours on its own and the old lady simply stared in amazement. She had to pinch herself twice to make sure that she was not still dreaming. A few moments later the painting had become an exact replica of the world she had seen in her dreams. She was more than thrilled.

Dad: How did the painting get colourful?

Daughter: Aren’t you listening? I told you it was magic.

Dad: Oh yes! Forgive me! And please continue.

Daughter: So where was I? Oh yes, she got very excited with her painting and she showed it to everyone in her world and they all shared her amazement in equal measures.

Dad: I know what happens next. Someone tried to steal the painting, right?

Daughter: No, not at all, Dad. That would be so mean. That is not what happened at all. What happened is that she returned home that night still buzzing but tired and she fell asleep immediately. Again, in her dreams, she saw something similar. She began to see more of the world every night and she would wake up and paint it, and her work would magically fill up with colours.

Dad: That is a wonderful story, my girl.

Daughter: You know what the best part is? You know that the universe is constantly expanding, right? It is because the old lady is still painting.

Dad: What? No, not at all. That is a good story but not a true one.

Daughter: Yes, it is. And that’s how our world came into existence.

Dad: Who told you this story?

Daughter: My friend Kim.

Dad: And who told Kim?

Daughter: Her parents told her. Her household believes in the old lady and they worship her as God.

Dad: I’ll tell you how the world actually came into existence. It was not an old woman. It was an octopus.

(To be continued)