U.S.S.R books for children


I thought i'd write something different, something other than books...but i can't think of anything else...so here i am, digging books again.

U.S.S.R. or the former United Russia was on friendly terms with India before i was born. My mother told me it helped India a lot financially and etc. etc. I don't know. What I know is that it left in India amazing literature. I don't think any country in the world ever produced such books.
We have small collections of translated short stories for kids at home and they're the best i've read.

I like Enid Blyton and english kids books, but these short stories speak more in a word than a complete english story put together,no offense meant. They helped me imagine. They bring out complex emotions in kids in a simple way that kids understand it and yet adults too enjoy them. They are timeless ageless classics with heavy depths that allow a child to ponder...

Bhayam leni Veetya is the telugu title, I could call it Fearless Vitya. I'll translate a few more in english. They go like..the singing feather, lazybones and the sun, Why did volya cry?, Lotus or a wolf, Forever poplar tree, what is the most beautiful of all ?,Masha's pillow, ...so on and so forth.

Every story, Each and Every story comes with a beautiful illustration in waters or oils. I learnt how to draw imagining i'd draw like that one day. A better mind now tells me, it's not possible.

They were my first books..and now i see them full of ticks in red pen, correction marks, crap designs i drew on them and it hurts. You see, my mother works in a bank and during my kindergarten years and my first and second standard, we had half days off on saturdays, mummy couldn't make it home. So she used to leave a cot (navvaru mancham) , water, lunch and these books. I read them, re-read them, revised them, reviewed them, re-re-re....them for countless times. I grew up alone but i was never alone with these books. The animals in there were my companions, the kids my friends. My mother tried telling me the elephant in a maroon skirt that sat in my bench on school was not real, it just never worked. And it still doesn't. I saw it and i remember it clearer than any student, teacher or a subject. Mora came in the Russian skirt.

A book is magic, if you read it the way i do, you'll never want to come back to reality. And if you ever got books like i have, you'd know how to read like me. For all the Russian authors, i never knew, thankyou. For all the short story writers, children's writer's out there, Thankyou a million.
As a kid i never knew how to express it. But now, i have a blog. And i'd like to say through this one, never stop writing. Go on and on and on.. about animals, plants, children, people, love, yourself, the kites, the ring, bird, porn, poetry, philosophy, economics, something, anything. Just don't stop. It makes more difference than anyone can percieve at the moment. Every word is an idea of a wonderful coincidence called man. It is his mind. His voice. Beautiful.
Bye.