The Comic Book Corner: How One Family Rewrote Learning at Home

How Comics Changed Our Kids' World

It was a rainy Sunday morning in their modest two-bedroom flat in Dombivli. The power had just come back after a short cut, and Bala was already busy in the kitchen preparing hot poha and masala tea. Sundar sat cross-legged on the floor with a few tattered comic books spread before him.

"Chotu, get off that mobile! You're only six - your eyes are too precious," Bala called from the kitchen. Jaya, now eight, had already learned to tune out YouTube shorts, but her ten-year-old brother Arvind was still deeply curious about every new "educational" app.

But today was different.

Sundar, an accountant who secretly adored the Tinkle comics of his childhood, had a plan. “Let’s make this our Comic Sunday,” he declared. “No screens till dinner. Instead, I want all of you to pick a comic and read.”

There were protests. Groans. Bargaining. But within an hour, all three kids were sprawled across the floor, flipping pages of Amar Chitra Katha, Suppandi, and Chacha Chaudhary.

What began as a reluctant compromise soon turned into wide-eyed excitement.

“Did you know Tenali Raman was actually a real court jester?” Arvind blurted out. “And he was super smart!”

“That elephant can talk!” Chotu giggled, pointing at a panel in Panchatantra.

For Sundar and Bala, this wasn’t just about entertainment. It was a conscious parenting choice. They believed that learning shouldn’t always come from screens or textbooks. Comics, they discovered, offered a bridge between fun and knowledge.

For instance, Bala noticed how comics made even the trickiest topics accessible. “Remember how Arvind struggled to understand planets last week?” she said to Sundar. “Look at this comic - it shows the solar system with dialogues between planets. Suddenly it all makes sense to him!”

Sundar nodded. “It’s visual learning. Comics break down complex ideas with pictures. The kids don’t just read - they see and imagine.”

But the biggest surprise? Jaya, once hesitant with long paragraphs, now devoured comics panel by panel. Her confidence in reading grew, and she even began creating her own comic strips using crayons and school notebooks.

Bala smiled proudly, “She’s not just reading. She’s thinking creatively.”

By the end of the month, the family had set up a small “Comic Library” in the corner of their living room. A shoebox became the comic book shelf, and every weekend was now “Comic Hour.” Neighbours began donating old comics. Soon, it wasn’t just about reading - it was about connecting through stories.

Their home wasn’t quiet anymore - it buzzed with laughter, debates over characters, and questions about history and mythology. Most importantly, it was a home where learning was led by curiosity, not compulsion.

In a world flooded with screens, the humble comic book had carved a space of its own - right in the heart of Sundar and Bala’s home.

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Old Benches, New Beginnings - A School Alumni Story

Old Benches, New Beginnings

A School Alumni Story

It was a breezy Saturday afternoon when six friends from school met again - after decades. The reunion was courtesy of the school’s alumni association, and the air was thick with nostalgia as they stood near the old banyan tree that once shaded their childhood antics.

“Can you believe this place hasn’t changed a bit?” laughed Rakesh, the class clown turned corporate consultant.

“Except that we have changed a lot,” added Maya, who now runs a chain of bakeries, remembering how she once struggled to raise her hand in class.

But the biggest surprise of all stood slightly apart, greeting people warmly, clipboard in hand. It was Arvind - the same Arvind who once preferred the last bench, avoided eye contact, and barely spoke unless asked.

“Guys, do you recognise him?” whispered Sangeeta, nudging Anil.

They all turned. Neatly dressed, confident and smiling, Arvind approached them.

“Hello everyone!” he said, shaking hands and hugging each one.

“Wait... Arvind? Our Arvind?” gasped Anil. “What transformation is this!?”

They all burst into laughter, and Arvind smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. I was invisible back then. I guess it took me years - and this alumni association - to come into my own.”

He explained how he had initially joined the association just to stay connected. But over time, he began helping with events, organizing small sessions, and gradually found his voice. Today, he was a Director of the alumni association, passionately working to give back to the school that shaped him.

“Just last month,” he said, “we hosted a lecture for students. The topic was ‘Be Happy, Don’t Worry’. Mr. Ramdas Shenoy, a dynamic speaker, spoke about leadership and communication with live demos and an open Q&A. The energy in that room was unbelievable!”

“I was just a part of the organizing team,” he continued, “but seeing those students - so excited, inspired - it felt like my contribution, however small, meant something.”

The friends listened, amazed.

“What made you do all this?” asked Maya.

Arvind paused. “Honestly? I realised that the school gave us more than just textbooks and exams. It gave us a foundation. I wanted to pay it forward, to help others find their confidence earlier than I did.”

Their conversation flowed as they strolled through the corridors, now lined with posters of past alumni events - job fairs, mentorship programs, community services, cultural get-togethers.

Anil nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I never thought of joining the alumni. But now, I feel like I’ve missed out.”

“You haven’t,” Arvind said warmly. “There’s always room for one more. It’s more than nostalgia - it’s a support system. A place to learn, share, and give back.”

As the sun began to set, the six friends sat together on the school steps, reliving memories and dreaming new ones - this time, not just as students, but as proud members of something larger.

And somewhere in that golden light, a quiet sense of belonging settled in.

About the Author

Redefining True Wealth

 

What Being Rich Really Means – A Night by the Lake

It had been years since the three friends had spent time together. Life, as usual, had taken over-jobs, families, responsibilities. But one breezy Friday evening, Amit, Raghav, and Sameer decided to escape the noise of their routines and camp overnight by a serene lake on the outskirts of town.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the fire crackled softly, they settled into their foldable chairs, mugs of warm tea in hand, watching the water shimmer in the moonlight.

Amit, the government employee, broke the silence. “You know, lately I’ve been wondering, what does it really mean to be rich?”

Sameer, the self-employed one, chuckled. “Coming from a tax officer, that’s a loaded question.”

“No, seriously,” Amit smiled. “We chase promotions, better homes, fancier gadgets, bigger cars... but does that really make us rich?”

Raghav, who worked in a private tech firm, nodded. “I get what you mean. My job pays well, but sometimes I feel like I’m just running. Emails, deadlines, KPIs... Then I met this retired couple recently - Mr. and Mrs. Arvind. They live simply, spend their days gardening and volunteering, and they just radiate contentment.”

“I know people like that,” said Sameer. “They may not have big bank balances, but they sleep peacefully. They have time for themselves, for others, for life.”

Amit poked at the fire thoughtfully. “Maybe true wealth isn’t about having more, it’s about having enough. Enough to cover your needs, but more importantly, enough time and freedom to live life on your terms.”

“Exactly,” Raghav said. “Like, I’d trade a big bonus for the ability to take my daughter camping on a weekday. Experiences matter more than possessions.”

Sameer added, “For me, being rich is about autonomy. Being self-employed has its challenges, but I can work around my passions. That freedom - that’s wealth.”

“And relationships,” Amit said. “What’s the point of luxury if you’re lonely or too busy to enjoy it with the people you love?”

Raghav nodded. “Also, gratitude. When I stop to appreciate what I already have like my health, my family, even this night with you guys - I feel incredibly wealthy.”

The moon now sat high above the lake, casting silver ripples across the still water. The air was quiet, filled only with the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the trees.

Sameer leaned back and smiled. “So maybe being rich isn’t just about what you earn but how you live. Having peace, purpose, connection. That’s the real treasure.”

The three sat in silence, letting that truth sink in.

They had come for a break. What they found instead was a moment of clarity, a shared understanding that real wealth isn’t always visible. It’s felt in the heart, in the mind, and in the small joys we too often overlook.

Sometimes, the richest experiences are not bought but found, under starlit skies and beside old friends.

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