My secret. I Have A Disneyland at Home

I Grew Up in Disneyland. You Did Too. We Just Called Them Grandparents.

I want to tell you something that might sound silly at first, but stay with me.

When I was growing up, I didn’t need a Disneyland ticket. I had my Dadi.You too, right? She didn’t wear mouse ears or walk around with balloons, but when she told me stories of Shivaji or Meera Bai, I swear — it felt like I was riding a rollercoaster through Indian history. She used her voice like a magician. One second she was Krishna, the next — she was Kansa! Her eyes did half the talking. Her hands would move like they were drawing the war of Kurukshetra in the air. And her face — it could show love, fear, anger, and mischief, all within one sentence. And I? I sat there, mouth open, forgetting the world.You had someone like that too, didn’t you?

Our Grandparents Were Disneyland

Your Nana or Nani who told you how India got its freedom — not like a textbook, but like a movie they lived through.Your Dada who described Hanuman ji flying to Lanka as if he watched it happen with his own eyes.Those moments? They shaped me more than any school ever did.

And now, I look at your child… and mine… and I ask myself:

Will they ever know that kind of magic?Your child probably knows Elsa and Spiderman. Mine too.

But do they know how brave Abhimanyu was? Or how clever Birbal was? Or how Sita didn’t flinch, even when the whole world doubted her?

Are We The Last Generation

No app, no cartoon, no AI can replace the way your father raises his voice during a war scene or how your mother pauses after a sad line to let the silence sink in. That pause? That’s emotion. That’s culture. That’s memory.

You and I, we had something priceless We were raised by living theatres. Our Dada dadi, Nana Nani.

So here’s what I’m doing. And maybe you’ll want to do it too.

What Can You Do?

I’m recording my parents telling stories to my kids. Not for YouTube. Just for us. For that one day when I’m gone and they need to hear what love sounds like.You can do the same. Call your mom. Ask her to tell your child that same story she told you when you were sick, scared, or stubborn. Because I believe something with all my heart:

Your child doesn’t need another screen.They need your parents. Their Dada Dadi Nana Nani. Their voice. Their stories. Their eyes.

Let’s not lose this. Let’s not be the first generation that forgets to pass on the most beautiful thing we had.

A childhood filled with stories, not cartoons.