Chapter 5Saving Lipu Lipu: Project Save the WorldYou know how you have ideas and they sound so good inside your head, and then, as soon as you voice them, they are punctured like a burst tyre? Or a harsh cold rush of reality hits them?When we returned, we were all charged up, keen to do something to right the wrongs of the world—do anything for the tsunami-hit natives. But the moment we express our views, we are met with utter disbelief, and that too from our muse, Aunt Cee herself.“No, no, not possible. You say you will make money by asking people to pay for my travel talk? Why would people want to come and listen to my tales and not go travel themselves?” asks Aunt Cee, looking very puzzled.Earlier on, I had told my friends that Aunt Cee was supportive of social causes. Well, to further clarify, she does feel strongly about saving the world, but she also gets suspicious of too much talk.“But just imagine when we reach the island with a huge donation, our school will become famous. You will be famous, Aunty!” I say in my most endearing tone.“Ahh, so we are doing this for fame, are we? For approbation?” Aunt Cee looks at us sternly.“Appro... Of course not; I did not mean that!”Trying to convince my aunt is a task. She says it herself, that she begins by not trusting a person, then works her way to building her trust.“I have a brilliant idea,” quips Sandy all of a sudden. If I haven’t said it before, Sandy is the brains of our group.“What if we have an exhibition of collages instead. Aunt Cee, you don’t need to talk, you don’t even need to be even there!”“Why would your friends want to see my scrap of notes or amateur pictures?” asks my Aunt, one eyebrow raised.“Because they aren’t just any pictures, they are collages, Aunt Cee, and they are brilliant and out of this world!”Oh, Aunty, pleeeaseeee,” I plead.“What a stubborn and persistent lot you are, just like the fireflies of Lonavala,” exclaims Aunt Cee.She laughs. “Did I ever tell you about the magnificent resorts of India? And yes, those fireflies are everywhere. They hover over you, but they light up the darkening evenings there.”Then, she looked at our face, silently waiting for her to agree. “Okay, girls, fine. Tell me what I can do for you intractable lot!”Let me tell you about Aunt Cee’s collages. They are works of art—one look at them, and you are transported to a different world, a world of interactive, interwoven experiences. They hold tales of different places and little anecdotes woven intricately, making a sort of tapestry. The collages hint at Aunty’s love of cinema as well as the arts—Hollywood hunks standing near willowy beauties, Bollywood kitsch interwoven with mythology. They are vibrant and artistic, just like Aunt Cee.What a brilliant idea to showcase these! I look at my friends in admiration and can’t help but mention how fabulous they are.Step 1: Mission accomplished! Aunt Cee is on our side and onboard with the idea.Step two: Convincing the authorities. *********************************************************************Miss R, the Principal of Little Hearts School, wears a perpetually pained expression. It’s difficult to get her to change that expression, especially when it’s coupled with beady, suspicious eyes that glare at us through thin steelrimmed frames.“Now, students, is this very important?” she demands.Miss R always looks like the world summit rests on her tiny, rod-like shoulders.“Ma’am, this is soooo important,” we immediately reply in a chorus.“Well, it’d better be, young ladies. Please be seated. “So, what is it that you need?”“Well, ma’am, here’s the thing. Supposing we sponsor a trip to… say, Lipu Lipu… or somewhere else, I mean like,Africa…?” I begin bravely, but my voice comes out in a squeak.“Wha… WHAT?’’ barks Miss R, looking like an African leopard about to leap on us.“No, ma’am, wait! What I mean is… what if we are sponsored?” I venture. “That is, if we can raise enough dough… I mean, some…”Miss R’s glasses glint.“‘Dough?’” This had better not be an exercise in stupidity, her eyes say.“Excuse me, Madam, I can explain,” Rhea steps in. She gives us a warning look, clearly telling us to shut up.Have I mentioned this? Rhea has the most natural finishing school skills that a young woman can possibly have. Sandy and I do not have an iota of that thing that says, “I am a lady.”Not that I am too interested in that elusive quality. I like being my sneaker-shod, bob-cut tomboy self—it makes life so much easier. No airy-fairy graces for me. But, well, if this works, then why not?Sandy and I look at Rhea in mute admiration that keeps growing by the minute.Let me describe the moment in detail. There she is, standing tall and graceful before the raging Miss R. She wears the most accurate expression of reverence that you reserve for IAPs (Important Authority People).“The world would be a better place, ma’am, if we put our ideas into action,” she says in her most saccharine voice.“A great school like this has instilled ideals in us, and we must examine whether we have lived up to those ideals. So far, we have been wrapped in petty ambitions of our own.”Now, Rhea has a crestfallen expression as she gazes at the authority in question.“This is just a humble opportunity. Our idea is to raise money from a magnificent exhibition of original photography and travel anecdotes and donate it for a noble cause. After all, ma’am, the world is full of suffering souls, and we, the privileged, feel a duty to do something.”Our eyes nearly pop out. Had she practiced her speech at home, especially that all-so nuanced expression of pathos in her eyes at the last sentence?Miss R, who always looks like caramel popcorn that cannot melt in her thin hard mouth, is leaning forward.“And how, I ask, do you propose to obtain these works of art, young lady?” she asks, her voice still hard.“Oh, do look at this,” we say together and spring into collective action.I quickly unfold one of my aunt’s collages, then another and another. And then, slowly, something strange happens. Miss R’s eyes grow larger and larger, glowing like black marbles.The collages are magnificent, containing the flavor of each country my aunt has been to, coming alive through photographs and quaint anecdotes. And that’s not all! The collages are replete with accessories, shells and pebbles. There is even a little polished stone from the Forbidden City and a hewn slab from the Berlin Wall— souvenirs from lands far and wide.Miss R puts her hand on her scrawny chest.“Oh girls,” she whispers. “this is quite... quite wonderful. I have never seen anything like it. All the places I have wanted to see but never could…” she stammers in amazement.*********************************************************************Dear well-wishers, whatever can stop us now? Convincing our intractable principal was like climbing a mountainous trek. We are dazed and reeling, quite taken with our own brilliance. Brimming with ideas, we feel as if we can do anything.Of course, if someone tells us that, going ahead, there would be problems galore and that our plans would come to a shuddering halt, we would brush it asideIn fact, we feel so excited that we forget that our impending final exams are in a month’s time!