A short write up on the indigenous sport of India Mallakhamb by our student Aashna Suvarna.

Aashna is 13 years old young writer from Mumbai. We are proud to have her as a student of the Little Kathakar Program, an Online Public Speaking through Applied Storytelling & Theatre Program under the mentorship of Trainer Khusshbo Chokhaani. We congratulate Aashna for this exemplary true self-expression.

The Game of Mallakhamb

Ambling – “The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot.” It applied well in the case of the enchanting and mesmerizing sight that unraveled itself in front of my eyes. The moist earth brushed against the soles of my shoes. The thick petrichor of my surroundings set my senses into a daze. The viridescent and lush vegetation, with occasional hazel-colored and shriveled leaves set upon the robust branches, caressed my cheeks.

It was just the three of us, but I seemed unaware of everything except the forest. I was walking deep into it to discover the mysteries it held. Every direction held something revitalized and alive. The fragile creepers seemed to have a great need to trip me as the vicious poison ivy scratched my boots. The high-pitched buzzing of cicadas and the chirping of different birds filled my ears. The towering oaks, maples, and willows were desperately attempting to engulf them.

Suddenly, splashes of water invaded our ears. My friend, Ishan, released a sigh of relief after desperately trying to figure out where we were while the rest of us were busy admiring our environment. “Welcome to Beryl River. I at least now know where we are. “Going ahead will be easy,” he said. True to its name, the pale emerald-colored water gurgled as it passed over the moss-clad rocks. But traces of blue and yellow seemed to be getting mixed in its waves. The water echoed my image as its glacial waves hit the back of my hand. They flowed delicately over my palm, leaving behind a flimsy sensation. The more I stayed, the more the comforting feeling filled my heart.

But we had to move on. I walked on and on till Ishan stopped. As an experienced trekker, the low growling and the crinkling of leaves did not go amiss in his ears. ” It might be a tiger. Be all eyes and ears from now on. “We are entering the tiger zone,” he whispered. ” But the officer said that the wild animals here are pretty peaceful and there are no canines.” I retorted. ” Did you already forget the snake incident? Is there any trouble with being careful? ” I rolled my eyes at his better-safe-than-sorry attitude. The slick and slimy feeling around my legs still terrified me. ” Will you stop it, both of you?” said our scared cat friend Kavita. I huffed and followed them.

We walked on till we saw a shadow cover the ground. ” Here is your tiger, Ishan,” I said while pointing at the rusty-spotted cat that lay on the ground and bursting into peals of laughter. A wounded brown-furred and rusty-spotted cat was softly moaning, sounding more like growling. We quickly treated it and moved on ahead. It had been three days since we had been trudging through these enigmatic yet lovely woods. We were weary and exhausted, but they always say, “There are no shortcuts to any place worth going to.”

Cut to three weeks later, I look at the distant greenery through the translucent, smooth glass of our train. Memories hit hard through my soul, making me immensely crestfallen and regret leaving this place. Suddenly, a brown, soft-furred, and spotted creature waved a paw at us, hiding behind the bushes near the station. Before we could react, Ishan quickly ran out of our train and popped back into it carrying the cat.  Kavita and I were aghast at his sudden change in nature. He just brushed it aside and went back to petting his new pal. I glanced at the vista for a final time. Maybe it is rightly said, “After a day’s walk, everything has twice its usual value.”

“This was an attempt from my side to share a short glimpse of the Indian game of Mallakhamb. Hope you enjoyed the information in a story form.”-Aashna

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