Party at the Zoo

What’s a birthday without a party? And what’s a party without friends? 

When the party was announced all over the zoo, all the animals were excited beyond means. There’s going to be dancing and singing and mainly, eating! It was Abe Aldabra’s 112^th birthday! Now 112 is a fascinating number and everyone knew it. The zoo itself is only 63 years old. Abe was already well past his middle age when he arrived at the new zoo. Initially, all the other animals were skeptical, for Abe was older than everyone. But as time passed by, they came to admire him for his wit and wisdom. After all, experience matters!

 

Everyone at the zoo celebrated their birthdays with pomp and glory. And when it’s their dear old Abe’s birthday, it’s something special. But Abe hated his birthday parties. It reminded him that he was getting old. Every time he was sad about it, his friends cheered him up and got him ready for the party. And this year, too, is no different. 

Enam Elephant took care of all the decoration, Fredric Flemingo baked the cake, and Quinto Quetzel organized the party events. And when it was time for the party to begin, Abe went missing! Everyone thought he was getting ready. They knew he would take his own time, but would arrive on time. They were wrong this time. Abe didn’t come on time. Everyone was ready with their party hats and gifts. ‘Where is he?’ was the question on everyone’s mind. And no one knew the answer. Abe’s friends got worried …

 

So where is Abe? Why hasn’t he showed up yet? Is he onto something? Isn’t he going to show up at all? What is the reason for his absence? Want to know the answers? You will, of course, when you read Party at the Zoo! Welcome to the amazing world of colorful animals!

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When Jessica met Jennie...

The yellow school bus came to a halt in front of the big, white house at four-fifteen in the afternoon. 5-year-old Jessica stepped out of the bus, with an orange school bag on her back and a tiny white water bottle in her hand. Her friends waved at her through the windows. ‘Bye-bye, Jessica.’ She turned round and waved back, smiling. The bus driver smiled at her, shifted the gear, and drove on.

Boo boo the Labrador was already waiting for her at the gate, sticking his tongue out and wagging his tail. The moment Jessica opened the gate Boo boo put his limbs on her tiny shoulders and started licking her face. Jessica giggled and patted his head. Both of them went inside, with Boo boo in the front, leading the way to the little princess.

‘Grandma!’

‘Hello, darling. How was school?’ said Jessica’s grandma, pinching her cheeks.

‘It was nice. You know our teacher made me the class monitor today,’ she said, placing her bag on a nearby table.

‘Really? How wonderful!’

‘And there is an elocution competition on Monday. I have to tell a story to the whole class.’

‘You’ll win of course. You know so many stories, don’t you?’

‘I do. But I have to say it with proper hand-gestures and voice modulation. I don’t know what voice modulation is,’ Jessica said everything in one breath.

‘Your mother will teach you that, don’t worry. She used to win a lot of prizes in school. So have you decided on any story?’

‘David and Goliath,’ said Jessica.

‘Fantastic,’ said her grandma.

***

Jessica was having her evening snack – cake and milk – when Jessica’s mother, Mrs Howard, returned from work. Jessica left the table and ran toward her mother.

‘Mom!’

‘Hello, sweetheart, how was school?’ Jessica’s mother asked.

‘I’m participating in elocution competition on Monday,’ said Jessica, looking up.

‘Wow! Which story do you want to tell your friends?’

‘David and Goliath. Will you teach me?’

‘Of course, my dear. It’s still Friday. We have plenty of time to learn.’

‘And I am the class monitor,’ said Jessica, jumping on the couch with a “blup.”

‘That’s fantastic,’ said her mother, sitting next to her and kissing her on the cheek.

***

‘Once upon a time the Philistine army had waged a war against the Israelites…’ began Jessica’s mother. ‘Standing for the Philistines, Goliath threatened the Israelites…’

Jessica listened to the story once again as if she was listening to it for the first time: she widened her eyes, covered her mouth with her tiny hands, ‘Wow!’ she cried from time to time. When the story was over Mrs Howard asked Jessica to tell the story – with hand-gestures and proper expressions and voice modulation. ‘Give proper pauses, lower your voice and stress the words whenever needed,’ her mother said. ‘Give a pause after “once upon a time,” stress the phrase “waged a war…”’

Jessica tried to emulate her mother, but to no avail. She frowned when she went wrong. ‘Oh, don’t worry. You’ll get it right. Now let’s try again…’ said her mother.

Jessica practiced till eight o’clock. ‘All right, my dear. Time to have supper,’ said her mother. They were just about to get up when they heard a voice: ‘What’s my darling doing?’

‘Dad!’ cried Jessica, jumping up from the floor, and ran toward her dad.

‘I am going to tell a story to the whole class on Monday. And I am the class monitor now,’ said Jessica.

‘Oooh, that’s marvelous!’ said her father and picked her up.

‘Mom is teaching me elocution. I am going to tell the story of David and Goliath.’

‘Excellent, excellent. May I hear it once?’

‘We are going to have supper first,’ said Jessica’s mother. ‘Story time is afterwards.’

Together the four of them sat for supper. ‘By the way, I have got something for you,’ said Jessica’s father.

‘Oh, come on now. Couldn’t you have said it after supper?’ said Jessica’s mother.

‘Really?’ said Jessica. ‘What is it?’

‘After supper, my dear. I promise,’ said her father.

It was always a challenge for Mrs Howard to make her daughter eat her food. Mr Howard, upon telling Jessica about the present, only made it worse. ‘That’s enough. I’m done with supper,’ said Jessica, every once in a while. Mrs Howard shot a glance at her husband. Mr Howard threw up his hands in the air as if saying he was sorry.

Finally when they had finished eating their supper, Jessica followed her dad everywhere. The good humored Mr Howard teased her by walking up and down the house without any reason. Mrs Howard couldn’t help smiling. ‘Oh, that’s enough. Show it to her already. It’s not funny to tease her like that.’

‘All right. Here it is,’ said Mr Howard, opening his bag.

Jessica stood in front of him as he took out an iPad.

‘But that’s yours,’ said Jessica, her eyes sad.

‘Yes. But what’s inside it is yours,’ he said as he ran an application: iStoryTree.

Jessica sat next to him and leaned towards the screen. ‘What is it?’

‘You shall see.’

And as the story of Crab and Crane started Jessica got transported into a different world altogether. She sat still, becoming numb to her surroundings. Her grandmother once asked her: ‘What is it, darling?’ Jessica neither heard it nor responded. Her expressions changed from time to time, depending upon the rhythm of the narration and the animations and the sounds.

It was only when the narration was over did Jessica take her eyes off the screen. She turned to look at her dad. ‘How is it?’ he asked.

Jessica could only laugh. Nicknamed as “Chatter Box” by everyone, Jessica didn’t have any words to say this time. Her dad taught her to explore other options in the application. She did; and she clapped and danced and laughed in delight.

Finally when Jessica came across the feature, “Avatar,” it was a different game entirely. Standing in the middle of her colorful bedroom, Avatar Jennie narrated the whole story, with apt expressions, hand-gestures and proper voice modulation. Jessica listened to 8-year-old Jennie a couple of times without uttering a word. ‘It’s time to bed, Jessica,’ said her mother thrice. Jessica didn’t hear it at all. Jessica’s father, who seemed to have been engrossed in Avatar Jennie’s narration, got a nudge from his wife.

 

‘Oh, right. Jessica, darling, it’s time to go to bed. You can listen to it tomorrow.’

Jessica gave the iPad back to her father unwillingly, and said, ‘Mom, is this how elocution is done?’

‘Exactly. That’s how it is done,’ said her mom.

‘Wow!’ said Jessica.

Mrs Howard understood the implication. She said to her husband when Jessica went to bed, ‘Did you have to bring it now? I was teaching her elocution skills myself. You bought that thing and spoiled my impression. You stole my thunder, you know.’

Mr Howard broke into a peal of laughter. Mrs Howard joined him a moment later.

***

The following day, as guessed by everyone, Jessica didn’t ask her mom to teach her storytelling at all. She got busy with iStoryTree’s Avatar Jennie. It was during lunch time, after having listened to Jennie over twenty times, that Jessica announced she was going to narrate the story of Crab and Crane instead of David and Goliath. Her parents were not surprised.  

For the next one and a half days Jessica listened to Jennie and practiced the art of storytelling. Her mom once suggested her to practice by standing in front of the mirror. Jessica did and found it very useful. Jennie, although a fictional character, seemed to be real to Jessica; such was the impact the Avatar had created on the little girl. As Jennie narrated the story, Jessica imitated the expressions and learned the story by heart.

***

On Monday morning the yellow school bus arrived at eight on the dot. With her orange school bag on the back, Jessica was ready. Her parents and her grandmother wished her luck for the elocution competition. They could see confidence in her smile. Boo boo nuzzled against Jessica, wagging his tail. She patted his head, hugged him once, and trotted off toward the school bus.

The competition began at ten in the morning. Little boys and girls had come prepared with colorful stories. Jessica eagerly waited for her turn. And when her turn came, she went up the stage with conviction and gave a performance that her teachers defined as “fine and delicious.”

After having witnessed a lot of good performances, Jessica was surprised when she won the first place. Her parents, however, were not. After all, they had seen how Jennie had trained her to perfection.

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Simba's Birthday

Cartoons didn’t entertain him anymore, toys didn’t fascinate him, and Ninja the dog didn’t make him smile either: for Simba was alone on his birthday, he was sad and angry.

It was the first time in four years that Simba was alone on his birthday. Although everything was planned – a big birthday party, toys, a big ‘Batman’ cake, a small picnic – his parents had to leave for New Delhi four days prior to the event, promising their baby they would return on time. Unfortunately, they couldn’t. But for Simba, they didn’t.

It was a Sunday. Just as always, Ninja licked Simba’s face and woke him up. Simba almost giggled, but having suddenly realized his parents weren’t with him on his birthday, he pushed Ninja away. Ninja stood by the cot, wagging his tail: confusion was written on his face. ‘Go, I won’t play with you,’ said Simba.

Ninja tilted his head and continued to wag his tail. ‘Get out,’ said Simba, pushing him with his tiny hands. Ninja barked once, as if saying, ‘What’s wrong with you today?’ Hearing Ninja’s bark and Simba’s angry words, the housemaid came running, ‘What happened?’

‘Just take him away from me,’ said Simba, throwing a pillow at the Golden Retriever.

‘Come on, boy,’ said the housemaid to Ninja. ‘He’s angry, because his parents are not here with him today.’

Ninja squealed as he walked outside. If Simba knew his friend was sad, he didn’t bother.

***

The phone rang for the eleventh time. The housemaid picked it up again, aware of the caller, ‘Hello,’ she said into the phone. ‘It’s for you again. Your mom,’ she said to Simba, who was sitting by the window. ‘I won’t talk to her,’ he said and continued to look out the window.

‘Hmmm,’ said the housemaid. ‘He still doesn’t want to talk to you,’ she said into the phone.

A moment later, she said to Simba again, ‘Your mom says she is going to come tomorrow. And with a big present!’

‘I don’t care,’ said Simba, without turning back.

The housemaid put the phone on speaker phone. ‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ said Simba’s mother. ‘We’ll go on a long picnic tomorrow when we get back, all right?’ she paused, possibly expecting her son to talk to her. When Simba didn’t say anything, she continued, ‘Listen, your dad’s friend is coming there this evening. We have sent you a gift. I’m sure you’ll love it. Now give mom a kiss.’

Simba slowly got off the window ledge, walked towards the sofa, and picked up the phone: ‘You said you wouldn’t go.’

‘I know. But it was important, my dear. We had to go. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

‘OK, bye. Love you,’ said Simba, and disconnected the phone.

***

The first guest, one of Simba’s kindergarten friends, walked in when the clock struck six. Holding a birthday present that looked bigger than he was, the boy placed it by his side and sat down on the sofa. By six-thirty, the big hall was thrumming with young voices. The housemaid brought the birthday cake and placed it in the center of the hall. With the Batman standing by the side of his Bat Mobile, the cake looked exotic and impressive: covered in chocolate sauce and nuts, it made a few boys salivate. Every kid in the hall exclaimed in a different way: ‘Wow!’, ‘Batman!’, ‘What a great cake!’, ‘Wonder how batman tastes!’, ‘I will also have the same kind of cake for my birthday,’ ‘No, I will have Superman,’ ‘Hulk!’, ‘Thor!’, ‘It’s made of chocolate, no?’…

Simba smiled haughtily as he got ready to blow the five candles. He blew them as his friends sang the birthday song, without blinking, without taking their eyes off the cake. Simba cut the cake and stuffed a big piece of it in the housemaid’s mouth. His friends clapped and laughed and clapped hard.

A pile of presents lay on the couch. Simba accepted each present with a gracious “thank you.”  ‘Can I have two pieces of cake?’ asked one of his friends, while giving a present. ‘Sure,’ said Simba. ‘Can I get a part of Bat Mobile?’ asked his friend again, not taking his eyes off the cake. ‘All right,’ said Simba. ‘But can we exchange our Batman trading cards?’

The little boy thought for a while and said, shrugging, ‘Sure.’

The housemaid served cake, sweets and cool drinks to the little guests. The hall grew noisier with each passing minute as the kids ate and talked and spilled their food and drink on the floor. Once the kids were done with eating, the housemaid invited them to a game of musical chair. Everyone participated enthusiastically, except Simba. His parents’ absence on his birthday was something he still hadn’t come to terms with.

It was seven-thirty when Simba’s father’s friend, Mr Thomas, arrived. If Simba was eager to know about the present his mom had promised on the phone, he didn’t evince it.

‘Happy Birthday, Kiddo,’ said Mr Thomas.

Simba tried hard not to notice the gift-wrapped item in Mr Thomas’s hands. ‘Thank you,’ said Simba.

‘I am so sorry your parents couldn’t be here. But guess what. They have sent a beautiful gift to you,’ said Mr Thomas, handing over the present to Simba.

His friends gathered around him as Simba slowly unwrapped the present. It was an iPad. ‘But this is my father’s,’ said Simba.

‘Of course, it is,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘But iPad is not the present. Here, let me show you.’ He took the iPad from Simba’s hands, booted the device, and selected an app: iStoryTree.

As ‘The Story of Crab and Crane’ appeared on the screen, a few kids let out a quiet scream. ‘Wow! It’s a real picture book. My dad bought me something similar to this last week,’ said one of them. None of them responded. They were busy watching the story unfold before their eyes.

Mr Thomas gave the iPad to Simba. The birthday boy took the device without a sound and started navigating. Once the narration was over, Mr Thomas guided him to touch the objects in the background. To everyone’s amusement, the objects reacted to the touch: a few birds chirped and flew away, the clouds moved, the crane made a sound, and so did the crab. Followed by that, magic colors entertained them to no end. Almost everyone danced with the iPad as the magic colors magically filled up the black-and-white artworks. For the housemaid and Mr Thomas, watching the kids dance was like watching the little crackers fire up.

It was then time to finger-paint! Mr Thomas showed how to take pictures from the device, import it onto the application and distort the photo in a funny way, using various colors and brushstrokes. The kids had a gala time, laughing and shouting when Mr Thomas used Simba’s photo and drew moustache and beard on it.

‘All right, here’s something you’ll like,’ said Mr Thomas after the finger-painting session.

He went to “recording” and chose a prerecorded voice. Simba’s eyes grew wider and wider as he heard the narration. It was the same story he had heard a few minutes before. But it wasn’t the story that did the magic; it was the voice! Simba looked up at Mr Thomas: ‘Yes, it’s your mother,’ said Mr Thomas, ruffling Simba’s hair.

Simba held the device close to his face and listened to each word carefully. ‘It’s mom!’ he cried ecstatically.

Some of his friends were surprised, too. ‘Cool,’ said one of them.

‘I know this,’ said the boy, who had earlier boasted of having a similar app. ‘It’s there with me, too.’

Simba didn’t hear him, for he was busy listening to his mother: although she wasn’t present in person, the special gift had made her presence felt. Simba didn’t feel alone anymore.

***

One by one, Simba’s friends took leave. Simba held onto his present till ten o’clock. The housemaid had to force him to bed. He reluctantly went to his room. The housemaid switched off the table lamp and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Simba tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come easily. A few minutes later he felt someone at the door. He knew instantly who it was. ‘Come here, Ninja,’ he said, switching on the light.

The Golden Retriever came running towards him and stood by the cot, sticking his tongue out and wagging his tail. Simba put his arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘I’m sorry, I scolded you in the morning,’ he said. Ninja licked his face as the boy giggled: ‘Stop it.’

‘Wait here,’ whispered Simba as he gingerly got off the cot and went to his cupboard. Without making a sound, he opened the cupboard, took out the iPad, and tiptoed back to his bed. ‘Come, sit next to me,’ he called Ninja.

‘See, what my parents got me,’ he said, booting the device. Putting his forefinger on his lips, he said again, ‘But don’t make a sound, OK?’

Ninja blinked his eyes. After showing all the options of the app to Ninja, Simba then chose “recording” and played the narration. Ninja got up with a start. Looking at the app and then at Simba, he looked confused and lost. Not able to contain himself he barked once. Simba giggled as he said, ‘I know, I know. It’s mom,’ he said as he hugged his pet dog.

A simple birthday present with a simple option in it had made his day.

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