Facts go to our brains, stories to our heart. For, there is a difference between reading and telling. For, we’ll always need storytelling.
Irrespective of the land you belong to you must have grown up listening to bedtime stories. When alphabets were alien to us our mums and dads (and if we were fortunate our grandmas and grandpas) were our storytellers. Often, they narrated tales without a book in hand. My granny’s favourite tale (and mine too) was one with a princess, who happened to look, talk, and laugh like me. Rarely did she feel the need to refer to a book. She’d close her eyes for a minute and the characters would start talking to us.
When we were ‘big’ enough we began to request for books with fewer pictures and more words. My mum and dad would now take turns to read out to us. I remember them using a ‘story’ voice for every tale, be it that from the world of Panchtantra, Noddy or Snow White. The giggle of a child, song of the bird or the growl of a bear – they brought the stories alive, until my sister and I fell asleep. With school library cards, many things changed. Nancy Drew, Sweet Valley, and Famous Five came into our lives. We’d be asked to hurry up with dinner if we were to read a book before the lights were switched off.
Stories, until date, continue to be a part of me. But, storytelling isn’t.
Now, I host storytelling sessions, writing workshops, author interaction events, open mic sessions, etc. for the creative fraternity; virtual or physical.