Category Archives: International

Chambered Nautilus Paintings

The Chambered Nautilus Dimensions of Our Lives

By Dennis Rivers, Oregon

“You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop.”
—Rumi.

In the course of my lifetime of stumbling and struggling through meditation, study, prayer and ecological activism, I have become convinced of one thing: We are part of something much larger than ourselves, a living presence that supports us, constrains us, and calls to us. That Presence provides us with breath, light, food and a million companions, and also yearns to receive back from us something profound —a response, a conversation. I keep on thinking that the something given back out of gratitude must be more that the perpetual wars and oppression that have raged around the world most of my life.

Neils Bohr (Danish Nobel prize-winning physicist and philosopher) once observed that the opposite of an ordinary truth is a falsehood, but the opposite of a great truth is often another great truth. It is a great truth of human life that we each need to develop our abilities as deeply as we possibly can. It is also a great truth of human life that we need to honor and nurture the webs of life, people, lands and seas around us, in widening circles. I am convinced that the more powerful we become with new technologies, the more deeply true both the above truths become. In the dream geometry of the Chambered Nautilus paintings below, I experience a celebration of our infinite interwovenness, a celebration of our complex developmental journeys, and a celebration of the One Life that holds us all.

I am totally convinced that…
The deeper the ugliness we intend
to confront and mend in the world around us,
the deeper the beauty
we need to carry within us.

As you seek to mend
the wounds of this world,
may you bring beautiful new light
into every room your enter!

To download these pdf images, please click on the poster titles below.

Dreams of the Sea #1102

Dream Geometry Study

Dreams of the Sea #4

By Dennis Rivers, created with the assistance of artificial intelligence, Oregon. Dennis is our volunteer webmaster. Dennis created these paintings (with help from AI) to inspire people to see the world around them with new eyes, a world in which greed and war were no longer needed. He feels that these images carry wisdom from Mother Galaxy. He writes, “I love the infinite-spiral-speaking to-us-from-another-dimension feeling that they offer.”

Dennis has offered these images as free posters with inspiring messages, rather than as traditional over-the-couch wall art pieces. He is excited about the Public Domain—Belongs to Everyone—aspect of this project. You may also visit his website, EarthPrayer.net.

The Mangonomy

The Mangonomy: Celebrating the Mango Economy

By Satish Kumar, Editor Emeritus, Resurgence, U.K.

Satish Kumar, originally from India, is an author, editor, educator, and a world traveler. He lives in the United Kingdom. Photo by Daniel Elkan.

The economy of Nature is regenerative, resilient, abundant and cyclical. Nature produces no waste. In a forest there are no waste bins!

Take for example a mango tree and mango fruit. We invest one single seed in the soil, what I call the Earth Bank. Then there is slow but steady growth. That seed collaborates with the Sun, soil and rain, as well as pollinating bees and orchard keepers, and slowly it becomes a beautiful tree.

Within a few years that tree produces hundreds of magnificent mangoes, not just for one year, but year after year for forty to fifty years. What an amazing return! Each mango is delicious, nutritious, nourishing, fragrant, sweet, healthy, and beautiful to look at. The juicy and tasty flesh is packaged in a soft skin that can be composted to feed the soil. No waste, no pollution, and no plastic packaging. A mango tree gives oxygen in the daytime (which we humans need) and absorbs carbon dioxide for its own nourishment. What a great miracle!

The mango tree and the mango fruit are beautiful, useful, and durable. Artists take pleasure in painting them, photographers take photos, and poets are inspired to compose poems about them.

Each mango has a seed within it. The one seed that we planted a few years ago has now multiplied into hundreds of seeds! Eventually from one original seed we can create a whole new orchard. No scarcity of seeds. No need to buy seeds. This is the ‘mangonomy’ of abundance.

The mango tree teaches us the importance of generosity and equality. A king or a beggar, a saint or a sinner, a priest or a prisoner, a human or an animal, a bird or a wasp—everyone is welcome to enjoy and to be fed by mangoes.

Never will a mango tree ask you, “Have you come with your credit card?” Everyone is welcome to have mangoes. No discrimination, no judgement, and no money is needed as far as the tree itself is concerned.

A mango tree needs no fossil fuels, no electricity, no wind turbines, no solar panels, and no batteries. It only takes passive solar energy, which is in constant supply. A mango orchard requires no factory floors, no concrete construction, and no infrastructure. Mango trees are self-sufficient, self-managed, and self-contained.

A mango tree gives more than mangoes. It provides branches for birds to nest in. It provides cool shade in hot summer for people and animals to rest, and firewood in a cold winter. At the end of its life mango wood is made into objects of daily use. A mango tree comes from the earth and returns to the earth. During its lifetime it benefits other species and does no harm to anyone.

This is a perfect economy. We humans need to be humble and learn from mango trees in particular, and Nature in general. I have chosen the mango tree to illustrate my point. But this is true of all the fruit trees and shrubs, grains and vegetables, herbs and flowers, and Nature in her entirety.

Can any factory or industrial plant produce something as beautiful and beneficial, as good and harmless, as valuable and pleasing as a mango? Industrialists, business leaders and politicians talk about ‘the economy.’ But hardly anyone knows or understands the true meaning of economy. Economy is made of two Greek words: oikos and nomos. Oikos means ‘home,’ and nomos means ‘management.’ In the wisdom of Greek philosophers, the entire ecosystem is our home, and management of the ecosystem is the true economy.

But our modern economists, industrialists, businesspeople and politicians are not managing ecosystems. Instead, they are managing balance sheets, business plans, profitability, industrial production, and money supply. This is not the true economy. This is the ‘moneynomy:’ the management of money. They appear to treat ecosystems and Nature as a ‘commodity,’ a resource for financial gain, a means to the end of making money. Moneynomy is misnamed as economy, but, if the truth be told, moneynomy is anti-economy!

A PERFECT ECONOMY

Governments around the world agree on one thing: economic growth! Whether a government is capitalist, socialist or communist, whether it is Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Buddhist or atheist, they all have one common goal, and that is the goal of economic growth. All countries live under the dictatorship of the moneynomy. This is not true growth in terms of a true economy. The growth they seek is growth in moneynomy.

In Nature’s true economy or mangonomy there are two types of growth: vertical growth and horizontal growth. In vertical growth there is an optimum limit. A mango tree on average will grow to become thirty to fifty feet tall and then stop growing. An animal will grow to a certain limited height and then stop growing. A human being will not generally grow much beyond six feet. This is sustainable vertical growth. Then there is horizontal growth. Here we have much more flexibility. Forests, farms, and mango groves are not so limited in horizontal growth.

The mangonomy is decentralized and widely distributed. No concentration of millions of mangoes on one tree!

LONG-TERM WELLBEING

So-called economic growth is vertical. The rich get richer and richer. There is no limit. Financial wealth concentrates in fewer and fewer hands. Extremely rich individuals of this world pursue vertical growth. Corporations like Amazon, Google and Apple also have vertical growth. For them enough is never enough.

Five to ten countries out of approximately two hundred have much higher economic growth, even though within these rich countries large numbers of people have a very low income and a low standard of living. Many people live in slums, and many are begging in the streets of rich countries. Such economic growth or money growth is largely vertical, without any benefit to a large number of people, and in the long run economic growth of this type also creates growth in pollution, waste and carbon emissions, which are all harmful to planet Earth.

If we want the long-term wellbeing of the human race and the health of our precious planet, we need to shift our obsession with money management and focus instead on the proper management of ecosystems. Money should be simply a means to an end, the end being both human and planetary wellbeing. That will be the true economy! And the economy needs to be circular—what comes from the Earth goes back to the Earth. Minimum waste, minimum pollution, and minimum carbon emissions.

We can all learn this from a mango tree. Long live the mangonomy!

By Satish Kumar, Editor Emeritus of Resurgence Magazine based in Devon, United Kingdom. Satish is the author of many books, including Soil, Soul, Society and Radical Love, available from www.resurgence.org/shop

Note: This article was first published in Resurgence & Ecologist Issue 349, March/April 2025. All rights to this article are reserved to The Resurgence Trust and author. To buy a copy of the magazine, read further articles or find out about the Trust, visit: www.resurgence.org

Here and There with Every Bear

By Sara wael, age 14, Al Ain, U.A.E.

Bears by Daemion Lee, Oregon.

Bears here, bears there,
bears are found everywhere!
Let’s take a trip to meet them all,
Who’s your favorite bear of all?

First, we visit the panda bear,
Found in forests deep and rare.
They love to munch on fresh bamboo,
And nap around the whole day through.
They tumble, roll, and sometimes share,
Pandas are the playful bears!

Ready for more? Let’s move along,
To places chilly, wild, and strong!

Then we go where the weather snows,
And icy wind forever blows.
There we meet the polar bears,
Fishing for food and swimming in pairs.
White and tough with icy stares,
Polars are the coolest bears!

Keep the pace, there’s more to see,
The forest calls to you and me!

Soon we find a grizzly bear, tall,
Roaming the forest, proud and strong
Eating honey with a mighty swish,
Their claws are sharp, their steps are swift.
With watchful eyes and steady care,
Grizzlies are the protective bears!

Quiet now, don’t make a peep,
Moon bears rest where midnight sweeps!

Found at night in forests deep,
Where moonlight glows and shadows sleep.
There we meet the moon bears, shy,
Peeking up at the starry sky.
With quiet steps and gentle glares,
Moon bears are the mysterious bears!

Under stars, our journey’s bright,
Next comes bears with eyes of night!

Found beneath the northern skies,
With beauty bright in golden eyes.
There we meet the black bears, bold,
Clever, curious, and never cold.
With black, brown and soft dark hair,
Black bears are the boldest bears!

Now let’s explore the mountains high,
Where secret bears are passing by!

Hidden in the southern clouds,
In mountains deep, special and proud.
They wander alone in quiet steps,
And eat wild fruits on jungle treks.
They’re quiet, sweet, and very aware,
Andeans are the special bears!

Off we go, you’re almost there,
To meet a bear with shaggy hair.

Seen in grasslands climbing trees,
Their tongues stretch out with skill and ease.
They feast on bugs with great delight,
They sleep by day and wake at night.
They’re gentle, sweet, and beyond compare,
Sloth bears are the caring bears.

Now for last, the smallest one,
Our bear adventure’s almost done!

Finally, we meet the smallest bear,
Cute and sweet, with gentle care.
Found in tropics, bold and bright,
Resting deep through day and night.
With honey dreams and silly stares,
Sun bears are the cutest bears!

Bears here, bears there, bears live everywhere!
Let’s keep them safe with all our care.
From forests deep to mountains high,
They need our help to thrive, not die.
So show some love, be bold, be fair,
Who’s your favorite bear out there?

—Sara Wael, United Arab Emirates. She adds: “My name is Sara, and I’m 14 years old. I live in the U.A.E. in a city called Al Ain. I wrote this poem (which I hope to publish as a book someday) to help spread awareness about endangered bears and to shine a light on bear species that many people don’t know much about. I hope this poem inspires others to learn more about these amazing animals, their habitats, and just how important they are to our world.”

Why Permanent Standard Time Is the Best!

By George Nakajima, age 11, California.

Are you not tired of changing clocks twice a year? I believe we should adopt Permanent Standard Time for several compelling reasons: it aligns with our natural circadian rhythms, it is supported by scientific research on health, and it avoids the disruptions caused by Daylight Saving Time.

Los Angeles is located at about 34°N latitude. There are other countries on similar latitudes that do not observe Daylight Saving Time (DST), such as Japan, Taiwan, and Singapore. I chose to compare Tokyo (Japan) and Los Angeles as I have lived in both Tokyo and Los Angeles.

Right now, I live in Los Angeles, where we have DST. DST shifts the clock forward in spring and back in fall. This changes my body clock. In Tokyo, you do not need to change your clock, so you can live more naturally. But in Los Angeles, we need to adjust our clock twice a year—once in spring and once in fall. This is something we cannot easily get used to.

Only two U.S. states do not observe DST. They are Hawaii and Arizona. At first, I wasn’t sure if Utah and New Mexico used Daylight Saving Time. That’s because the Navajo Nation, which does use DST, covers parts of those states. I thought the rest of Utah and New Mexico might not follow DST. But after doing some research, I learned that both Utah and New Mexico do use DST, just like most other states. Several states, including Alabama, Colorado, Florida, Delaware, Georgia, Louisiana, Minnesota, Tennessee, and Wyoming, are trying to adopt Permanent DST. However, I believe we should keep Permanent Standard Time instead.

First, Permanent Standard Time is better aligned with our internal body clocks. According to the article, “Permanent Standard Time Is the Way to Go.”

Dr. Beth Malow, director of the sleep division at Vanderbilt University School of Medicine, explains: “Having light in the morning not only makes you feel more alert, but it also helps you go to bed at the right time at night.”

This highlights how waking up with natural light improves both our alertness during the day and our ability to sleep well at night.

Second, only a small portion of the world still follows Daylight Saving Time. Less than 40% of people worldwide observe Daylight Saving Time. Gabrielle Solis, a supporter of Permanent Standard Time, notes: “It first started as an effort to save energy, but research has found that the actual energy savings are minimal.”

This shows that the original purpose of Daylight Saving Time no longer applies effectively, making it less relevant in today’s society.

Many doctors believe that Permanent Standard Time is healthier. According to Gabrielle Solis, shifting clocks disrupt sleep and increase the risk of heart attacks and other health issues. By sticking to Standard Time year-round, we can create a healthier, more stable routine for everyone.

To conclude, sticking with Standard Time promotes a safe and healthy morning, aligns with our body clocks, and avoids the hottest part of the workday—something especially helpful for workers who dislike working in the heat. If you agree with my idea, please contact your local representative and support changing the law for good.

—George Nakajima, age 11, California. He will start middle school this fall.

Making Wontons

By Drew Choy, age 12, grade 6, California.

The cold water welcomed my fingertips as I dipped them into the bowl. I gently lathered the water onto the wrapper so I wouldn’t rip it. The meat inside of the wrapper felt like a golf ball—smooth, spherical and heavy for its small size. I connected the two opposite corners of the wrapper and folded the wonton* into an envelope.

I’m a third generation American and making wontons is something that connects me to my culture. My parents are pretty good at it, but I’m just starting, so sometimes I make small mistakes. We make them at random times. Sometimes I get home from soccer practice and the wontons are waiting for me, and other times, I get to make a couple of them, too.

Chinese cuisine is a lot different than many other cuisines in that you rarely ever get to eat the dish you ordered. Most of the time, you share all of the food with everyone at the table, even if you only ordered one item. When I share these meals with my parents, it helps me bond with them.

I set the wonton down on the platter where many of the wontons my parents had previously made were sitting. Journey (the music band) played in the background. My mom, who was preparing the vegetables for dinner, said something to my dad in Chinese which I didn’t understand.

As my dad pulled the first batch of wontons out of the pot, the aroma filled the room, and my mouth watered.

I refocused on my task, but I was having trouble closing the wrappers tight. So I dropped the wonton onto the plate, sat back in my chair, and crossed my arms.

My dad got up from his chair and crouched down next to me. He then calmly walked me through how to find the right amount of meat and how to seal the wrappers well.

When I visit China, I’m the only person in my family who doesn’t speak any Chinese. Whenever we’re shopping at street markets, vendors are shouting out items in Chinese, and at restaurants the menus are all written in Chinese. This makes me feel separated from my culture because I can’t do the basic things that Chinese people can do. But when we’re back home in California, making Chinese food is one of the only things that makes me feel Chinese.

“It’s okay,” my dad tells me. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

My mom, still standing over the boiling pot of water, says, “Yeah, as a kid, I didn’t understand how to make wontons right away. It takes time to learn new things.”

A smile crept onto my face. When the wontons were finished boiling, I made a sauce containing soy sauce, sesame sauce and rice vinegar. I bit into the first wonton and the juice from the meat burst inside my mouth in a flavorful explosion.

Immersing in Chinese culture isn’t just about speaking the language. Food and my parents are equally important things that connect me to it. In China, I may have felt awkward being around a lot of the people, but through participating in small cultural practices here in the U.S., I hope to fill the gap between Chinese culture and me.

* Wonton is a Chinese dumpling that is commonly found across many regional cuisines of China.

—Drew Choy, age 12, grade 6, California. Drew writes, “I’m Chinese-American, and I am the second generation of my family born in the U.S. I only speak English right now, but I used to be fluent in Chinese. The most important thing to me is my parents. They are the ones that support you and guide you through all aspects of your lifetime. My parents are my best friends and I wouldn’t be who I am without them. In the future, my dream is to become a professional soccer player. I am a very athletic kid, and sports are something that always cheer me up.”

Adam Bobrow, the Voice of Table Tennis

Adam Bobrow, the Voice of Table Tennis*

By Viraj Ajgaonkar, age 12, grade 8, Mumbai, India.

Adam Bobrow sketch by Viraj Ajgaonkar.

I am an emerging professional table tennis player, and I do my best to actively compete at Mumbai’s city level table tennis tournaments. There are multiple players whom I greatly adore and I always try to imbibe their techniques that help me to improve my game.

But there’s this guy who is quite unique, and he has created a meritorious place for himself as an official table tennis commentator in the UTT and WTT tournaments. When he was a professional player, he was popular for his signature snake serves and hitting the ball across the table.

Yes, you guessed it right. He is our very own the “Voice of table tennis,” Mr. Adam Bobrow!

He is also a successful YouTuber wherein he battles out professional players—from China’s Ma Long and Fan Zhendong to France’s Lebrun brothers or Brazil’s Hugo Calderano, right up to India’s Sharath Kamal or even USA’s Kanak Zha.

His humorous style of talking in his typical American accent, his colourful t-shirts and shorts, and his strong command over the language makes him very unique. He is truly fun-loving and seems to enjoy traveling to diverse places. For a recent Doha tournament, he traveled light—with just one backpack!

He has had played a pivotal role in spreading the passion for table tennis (ping pong) by challenging even the enthusiastic non-players of various age groups across the world through the solid platform of PingPod.

You will notice that he is a keen observer when you see him play against professional players in the challenge games. He tries to study their strengths and other technical aspects of backhand/ forehand strokes, chop, block, etc. He then effectively blends it especially in his English commentary. He often gives nicknames to many players—like Xuperman to Xu Xin or The Golden Girl to Manika Batra.

I’d like to take an opportunity through this article to invite you, Mr. Bobrow, to our city of Mumbai at Shivaji Park Gymkhana and Park Club. Mr. Bobrow, do come and challenge me and my other senior buddies, and let’s have a blast over here to create some unforgettable moments!

By Viraj Ajgaonkar, Age 12, Grade 8, Bombay Scottish School, Mumbai, India.

* Table Tennis is known as Ping Pong in many countries of the world.

Battle on the Board

By Elaine Elizabeth Jinto, age 14, Karnataka, India.

Why did the ancient kings of India even bother to invent a game like chess? I mean, take Babur*, Akbar, or any other king for that matter; they seem to have spent their whole life in mortal combat, so why also have a war on the board? If I were one of those ancient rulers, I would have banned chess in my kingdom. As chess was a game from ancient Indian history, everyone here in India seems to play the game. Everyone just wants to be the next world champion, unlike me, who is forced to play the game so I can follow my real dreams.

But then, why was I sitting at a chessboard waiting for the Karnataka Chess Championship to start? And, why was Karnataka State Champion Sindhuri Patil sitting exactly opposite to me?

Yes, my dear reader, I, Elaine Elizabeth Jinto (with No FIDE** Rating), was about to play with one of the greatest chess players of India. Now you will be like, “Whoa, hang on, wasn’t she saying that chess was a useless game ten seconds ago?” Yes, I was saying that, but I need a FIDE rating to get into ISRO’s space camp. I was on the Top Board, the spot coveted by all chess players. But I didn’t want to be there. It was just because of FIDE’s weird pairing mechanisms. The game was available live on Lichess.org, and as I looked around, I saw the spectators sitting outside the tournament hall, everyone looking at their cellphones. I felt even more nervous, so I took a deep breath and imagined myself at the Space Camp. That did not help me, though. It made me more desperate to play well!

I wondered what the spectators were thinking. Were they hoping for an interesting match worth watching? Or were they judging the little girl sitting opposite the champion, nervously twiddling the pieces around? Or were they sympathizing with the girl who had to play a very tough match for no particular reason?

As we waited for the match to start, I took a good look at my opponent. With the T-shirt she wore when she last represented India, hair in a thick, tight braid, glasses, a nose ring, and a very, very serious, slightly mocking expression on her face, she was the scariest opponent I had ever played. Or maybe it was the difference between our FIDE ratings that scared me. Or both. I don’t know.

So, there I was, sitting in the tournament hall, about to play for the first time with a digital board and clock. An A/C and a reclining chair were provided for my comfort. But far from being comfortable, I was shaking nervously and was already thinking of ways to resign without appearing too cowardly. I kept pressing the buttons on the timer absentmindedly until Sindhuri told me to stop changing the time controls!

The bell sounded, and the match started. Sindhuri made the first move, and I could taste the aggression in the air. Playing safe, I opted for a defensive move. I mean, a move that wouldn’t lead to an immediate loss. She glared at me, and her pieces charged towards mine. Within seconds, the enemy had broken through the castle walls and annexed the treasury. With two men dead on the field, I was forced to retreat. Sindhuri ordered more pieces out, and in that calm bit (the only calm bit in the whole war—too bad it was short-lived), I attempted to reconstruct the castle walls. This resulted in the sad death of my beloved elephant and knight; may God bless their souls.

I felt dozens of eyes on me as piece after piece was either captured or trapped where I couldn’t use it. I took a deep breath and tried to tell myself that the gleaming gold cup, displayed on the stage, wasn’t my ultimate goal. It didn’t work, though. As I chewed my lip, trying to think of at least one move that would prevent the impending destruction, I realized that even though I found chess boring, I wanted to win. Losing was bad. And even though I pretended not to care, I did. My thoughts raced: Should I just save the knight? Should I castle to stop getting checkmated? Or could I just resign? Losing track of everything, I tried to save my last man on the field, and the king was trapped. “Checkmate,” Sindhuri yelled triumphantly.

The bell sounded, and the match ended. So, there you are, my dear reader, a brief description of the destruction of my poor kingdom and the victory of a WFM against an ordinary fourteen-year-old. I left the tournament hall clutching my score sheet with tears in my eyes, feeling that chess was more useless than ever. Anyway, before I leave to sob in peace, I must answer my question in the beginning. The answer came to me as I took one last look at my destroyed kingdom. The ancient kings likely wanted to practice their battle strategy.

By Elaine Elizabeth Jinto, age 14, Karnataka, India. She has been published in Skipping Stones multiple times.

Editor’s Note:
* Babur is known as the founder of the Mughal Empire in India. Akbar was the third in line of Mughal emperors (who died in Oct. 1605 CE) and his son, Jahangir, followed as the next emperor.
** FIDE stands for Fédération Internationale des Échecs (in the French language) meaning the International Chess Federation.
NPR (National Public Radio, USA) reported on June 08, 2025 that the game of chess is very popular in India; and that there are even online chess schools to train serious chess players in the country. Currently, there are 85 Chess Grandmasters in India. In 2024, at the World Chess Championship in Singapore, 18-year-old Gukesh Dommaraju, from Tamil Nadu, India became the youngest-ever world champion.

The Girl who Saved the American Pilot

By Fanny Wong, Chinese American author, New York.

On February 11, 1941, Ah Ying watched a parachute float down from the sky. It draped the roof and the side of a small building in their village of Shatin, in the outskirts of Hong Kong.

The adults of the village were frightened and ran off. Ah Ying was nervous too, but she was more curious than frightened. She walked closer and saw a White pilot. She was relieved the pilot was not a Japanese. The Japanese had occupied Hong Kong and she was used to seeing them strutting around, sometimes on horseback.

His leg was hurt. He was limping. Could she trust him?

The pilot showed a Chinese flag sewn on the inside of his jacket. Ah Ying breathed a sigh of relief.

It was all right. He was not an enemy. He was working with the Chinese against the Japanese invaders. She must hide him from the Japanese soldiers.

Ah Ying led the pilot from the village to the cow pastures on a small path. As they climbed the steep path, he could hardly follow her with his hurt leg and a burned arm. They went up a steep path, Ah Ying pulling him by the good right hand.

There was no way of avoiding a Japanese sentry post below. They hurried as fast as they could. But the Japanese spotted them.

Crack! Wheeeee! Crack! Two Japanese soldiers fired shots and others were running toward them. They raced up a hill and down the other side. The pilot could not follow fast enough and Ah Ying lost sight of him. The Japanese soldiers were quite a distance away when she reached the top of a hill and raced down the other side. She looked back once and saw the pilot half hidden by a boulder surrounded by scrawny weeds.

For the next few hours, until the sun set, Ah Ying dared not look for the pilot. The Japanese soldiers were still searching for him on the hillside. She had to help him somehow. Her parents were against her going back to help.

“The Japanese is our enemy, not the pilot. If he’s caught, the Japanese will treat him cruelly,” she said to her parents, who knew too well the cruelty of the soldiers.

As Ah Ying searched the hillside, she sang a folk song to let the pilot know she was looking for him. He emerged from behind the boulder. She led him through bushes and grass to a tall shrubbery on another hillside. She pulled the shrubbery aside and shoved the pilot down a foot or two onto a straw floor in a hole about eight feet in diameter.

Ah Ying turned on a flashlight. The hole was underground. It must have been used as an oven for burning charcoal. The past fire had baked the walls into hardness and sealed off dampness. She pounded two nails into the rock at the entrance and hung a blanket to block the light from inside the cave.

The next morning, Ah Ying brought food. It was plain rice with pickled cabbage. She watched him scoop them into his mouth hungrily with the chopsticks.
The pilot wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand and pointed to his chest to introduced himself, “Donald Kerr.”

Ah Ying introduced herself he same way. She motioned with her palm that he should stay there and left.

It was too dangerous to visit the pilot in daytime. The next night, Ah Ying brought hard boiled eggs, boiled sweet potatoes, and a thermos of hot water. She pointed toward the outside and brought in an old man dressed in dark clothes and western hat.

Peering at the pilot through thick glasses, the old man said, “Good morning, sir. I am happy to know you. I am Y.T.”

“My name is Donald Kerr. I’m glad we can talk in English”

The children did not understand what the two men discussed in English. When the discussion was over, Ah Ying left with Y.T.

During the three days that Kerr hid in the cave, Ah Ying supplied him with food. On the fourth day, she brought along a young Chinese woman.

“Friend, friend,” the woman whispered, while removing the bushes and crawled in.

“My name is Miss Li,” she said. “I speak some English. Someone will come for you in a few days.”

She left with Ah Ying.

Several nights later, Y.T., the woman, and Ah Ying arrived with more food.

“Eat fast. We go to another place,” he said.

They hiked in silence up a long slope. At the top of the hill, water shimmered in the distance.

“Now you go with Ah Ying,” Y.T. said and disappeared with Miss Li into the darkness.

They walked and walked, up and down hills, on large paths and tiny trails. It was rough going. There were rocky patches and narrow gullies.

At the bottom of a hill was a town with dim lights. Ah Ying left him on the hill to sleep among the weeds, with his rolled-up coat for a pillow.

The weather was sunny the next day. After dark, Ah Ying came back to the waiting pilot with a note in English, “I bring you home now.”

They traveled silently into another valley and reached a long Chinese house. A wooden door opened a little to let them in. A room was full of people, young and old men and Miss Li.

“Who are all these people?’ Kerr asked.

“Guerillas,” Miss Li said. “We’ll keep you safe. The Japanese are only a few miles away. Sleep here until we are ready to leave.”

Around midnight, Miss Li woke the pilot sleeping on a bamboo bed. “We take you to China by boat.”

Miss Li and Ah Ying shook hands with the pilot.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Kerr said.

The pilot was taken to his base in Guilin, China. Back home in Shatin, Ah Ying never forgot the pilot and her courageous story became proud lore of her family.

By Fanny Wong, Chinese American author, New York. Ms. Wong has been a frequent contributor to Skipping Stones Magazine.

Christiano Ronaldo, the Great Soccer Player

About the Pixel Sketch of Christiano Ronaldo

Football (called soccer, in America) is one of my favorite sports; I am very passionate about it. I play soccer with my school buddies during our school break time, although I don’t play it on a professional basis.

All football players have their own unique styles and techniques of playing. Amongst them, Christiano Ronaldo, popularly known as CR7, is a legendary player from Lisbon, Portugal who started his career with FC Sporting, then MUN and many others. At present he’s with Al Nassr.

He is an iconic figure to me, especially when it comes to his bicycle kick, his headers, and his remarkable vertical leap which I think nobody has surpassed. He has come a long way from being a poverty-stricken boy to the most successful and elegant player in the football history.

I adore him mostly for his sheer faith in his physique and fitness (which is outstanding), and the respect that he gives to his fellow players. Yes, he doesn’t even promote commercials of carbonated drinks; he says they are harmful for health!

The deep affection that he has for his mother is clearly seen when he said that his mother is his refuge, and that he’ll take care of her until his last breath! I remember one occasion when he failed to convert a penalty into a goal but later succeeded in making a goal for his team in the same Euro Cup match. He apologized to his fans and his mom, and later, he silenced the crowd that was supporting his opponent team through his gesture (a finger over his mouth).

More than anything, his signature style of ‘Suiiiiiiiiiiiiii……..’ will always be remembered by all football fans like me. He is indeed a true inspiration for all youngsters. He has repeatedly excelled with his dedication, hard work and mental toughness.

So Mr. CR7, wherever you are, this is a form of respect that I would like to pay you through my very first attempt of drawing a pixel sketch of yours on a graph paper! (Do look at it from different angles to get the best glimpse).

By Viraj Ajgaonkar, Grade 7, Bombay Scottish School, Mumbai, India.

The Birth of the First Human

By Diponkar Chanda, originally from Bangladesh, Canada.

“While the story is not based on any specific folktale or myth from Bangladesh, it is inspired by the cultural storytelling style I grew up with—where themes of transformation, nature, and divine connection are often present. It is an original piece, drawn from imagination and shaped by a sense of spiritual curiosity.”

Long, long ago, trees of every kind embraced the soil, animals wandered freely through the wild, countless birds flew across the sky, and endless varieties of fish swam in the oceans. Insects crawled, flies glided—everything was alive and moving.
But one thing was missing.
There were no humans—nowhere in the world.

Yet, there were shadows. Shadows of many shapes, colors, and sizes. Small ones, tall ones, and those in between. They came in uncountable forms—silent, formless, and dreamless. Though they moved, they had no desires. Though they existed, they felt nothing.

But among them was one curious shadow.
He longed for more.

One day, he rose into the sky and reached the gates of heaven. There, he stood before God.
“What is it you seek?” God asked.
“I want to feel the world,” the shadow replied. “I want to be alive.”

God raised a glowing hand.

“I want to see,” said the shadow.
So God gave him eyes.

“I want to hear.”
God gave him ears.

“I want to taste.”
God gave him a tongue.

“I want to smell.”
God gave him a nose.

“I want to touch.”
And so God gave him skin—and with it, arms and legs—so he could walk and hold, run and rest.

In that moment, the shadow became the first human—alive with five senses and the gift of wonder.

With this miraculous transformation, the Earth itself stirred with change.
From that first human, more humans came—walking in sunlight and dreaming under moonlight.
And the world was never the same again.

—Diponkar Chanda is an emerging writer based in Toronto, Canada. Originally from Bangladesh, he writes stories and poetry that bridge cultures, languages, and imagination. English is not his first language, and he brings the rhythm and depth of his native Bengali into his storytelling. This is his first submission to a North American children’s publication.