Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • The first time we went to Ramdilla, it was already dark. All of the children were already there, at the small park in Enterprise, Chaguanas, where they were putting on their own version of the stories of Hindu sacred texts. My sisters wanted food and sweets, they disappeared into the crowd. I went to the stage and listened to the musicians playing the tabla, sitar and tassa. There was a whole production with colourful and elaborate costumes. One parent looked at me and said, "this is your first Ramleela?" I said yes. "You not from here?" she asked. I said I was from Belmont. Then I asked, "who is that?" The girl in yellow was in character, pacing pensively by the tents. "That is Ravan's wife," the parent said. The girl was Mandodari, the woman who stood up for Sita, who was punished time after time by monkey thugs, yet never stopped loving, until the very end.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.