Skip to main content

Pooh and the Art of Living & Loving 2- A Friend in Need

Mohan is a family physician, film and TV aficionado, a keen bibliophile and an eclectic scribbler.

In which the reader seeks the story so far...

Pooh wakes up in hundred acre wood only to discover he has forgotten who he is…

Hold on there , why am I telling the tale again? You already know what happened. Thank you for reading the story so far and all your nice comments.

If you havent, lazyfingers, all it takes is a single click to read what happened previously. So please go ahead and click.

As you well know, if you don’t know what happened before it is hard to know what is happening now. And if you don’t know what’s happening now it is hard to be ready for what will come next.

For you see, as a wise man once said, the past is history, the future is a mystery, but today – today is a gift, that is why it is called a 'present'.


Some raindrops rush straight to the ground, but some love to ride on the leaves first and fall leisurely when the rush is over...

Some raindrops rush straight to the ground, but some love to ride on the leaves first and fall leisurely when the rush is over...

In Which Pooh meets a Friend


The rain had stopped as Pooh clambered down the tree with some difficulty. The honey was still sloshing around in his tummy from his recent repast. The air was damp and the smell of wet earth and foliage surrounded Pooh. The sky was still grey like Eeyore’s coat. There was a plippety plop of droplets trickling down the leaves and landing on the branches and the leaf covered ground. Some raindrops rush straight to the ground, but others love to ride the leaves first and then fall leisurely after all the rush is gone.

Pooh felt a drop hit his warm nose and he jumped.

He was tense with anticipation for he had heard the name ‘Pooh’ come from someone nearby. It created a stir of recognition in his woozy head.

‘Could this be my name?’ he thought as he trundled down the path. The remnant of the song he sang before came floating in.


Who am I?

(Is it just my name)

Who am I?

(Will I ever know?)


Scroll to Continue

A rat-tat- a-tat sound stopped him in his tracks. He peered across to his front door. He saw Piglet jumping up and down to reach the door knocker. Pooh knew this was Piglet and that he was his best friend. It was odd like that. He remembered very much all the details of hundred acre wood and its inhabitants but couldn’t quite remember who he was.

Not knowing who he was left an empty space in his head. Like the inside of a pot when the hunny ran out.

Not knowing who he was left an empty space in his head. Like the inside of a pot when the hunny ran out.

In which Pooh can't hold two thoughts in his little brain...


“Pooh. Are you in?” shouted Piglet. Even when he shouted Piglet’s voice came out soft and gentle. As Pooh knew this was his house, he realised his name must be Pooh. Although there he stood, a little wet but content, not fully knowing who he was still left an empty space in his head. Like the inside of a pot when the hunny ran out. But the name helped. Briefly.

He was about to call out to Piglet when something caught his eye. It was a board above his door. It was damp and waterlogged but there was no mistaking what it said. It said 'Mr Sanders’.

Pooh hadn’t noticed this when he came out of his house before.

Now it confused him. He put a paw under his chin and scratched. But instead of wondering about his name, the silly bear wondered why he scratched his chin in these circumstances.

You see, when you are a bear of very little brain, you couldn’t always hold two things at once inside. So Pooh went with this new thought and a song popped into his head.

It is funny how when you can't hold an extra thought in your head, there is always room for a song.



Why do we scratch our chinny chin chin

Why do we scratch our chinny chin chin

...but Can Hold a Song.

‘Why do we scratch our chin chinny chin

When a slippery thought just fails to come in


We wrinkle the nose and stand in a pose

Does it help, does it help, is there anyone who knows

We cup our chin and we raise our brows

We may wiggle our nose like a curious mouse


Scratching the head may help our brain

When its damp and soggy with all this rain

Scratching our chin oh what does it gain

Is there someone out there who can explain



When a slippery thought just fails to come in

Why do we scratch our chin chinny chin’


In which Piglet lends a hand...


Pooh hummed the song out loud, and found he was also doing the actions at the same time. He scratched his chin, wrinkled his nose, struck a pose, cupped his chin, raised his brows and wriggled his nose too when Piglet’s voice interrupted his song.

“Ah there you are, Pooh. And what are you doing?”

“Hello there, Piglet. I am so glad to see you”

Piglet came closer and held Pooh’s hand. Pooh felt better immediately. It’s amazing how a single hand of a friend can calm things down so quickly.

“Piglet, I have a problem.”

“ Do tell me, Pooh, but first lets go and sit down. I have been jumping up and down and my little legs hurt”

They both walked up to a log that looked comfortable. It was a bit damp and there was some sticky moss all over it, but the friends didn’t mind. It was a good log that has helped in many such deliberations.

“Oh bother. I wish I could explain better.” sighed Pooh.

“You tell me what it is and we’ll explain together. That’s what friends are for.”


It was a good log that has helped in many such deliberations.

It was a good log that has helped in many such deliberations.

In which a problem is shared...


Pooh told Piglet how he woke up that morning and passed the mirror and… well you know the story.

Piglet scratched his head. Pooh thought this was a good sign.

“Well, I can tell you that you are Pooh bear”

“Is that my name?”

“Well not your full name. Christopher Robin calls you Winnie-ther-Pooh

Winnie? But I am sure I am a boy. I know it is not usual to call boys Winnie”

“Christopher Robin says that’s why you have a ‘ther’ in the middle and that’s all the explanation you will get.”



Pooh crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side. He may be a bear of little brain but he knew there was something amiss.

“Then tell me Piglet. Why does my house have a plaque that says ‘Mr Sanders’. Am I Winnie-ther-Pooh-Sanders?”

Piglet blinked five times.

If you had cared to read what happened before you would now know that it has been said you blink once for clarity, twice for purity, three times for sanity and four times for curiosity.

Apparently five times, in itself a rarity, is how much you blink for a calamity.


Who is Mr Sanders?

Who is Mr Sanders?

In which the friends go in search of answers


“Oh!” said Piglet. “I used to wonder that myself. I can tell you for sure that you are Winnie- ther-Pooh, my bestest friend. You are cuddly, you like honey and playing Pooh-sticks. I can also tell you that we have been living in hundred acre wood with our friends for some time. However, I really have no idea who Mr Sanders is. I don’t think it is you, Pooh. I think you have just been living under that name”

“Now why would I live under that name if it is not my own?" Pooh looked unhappy and be..bef.. befuddled.