Wednesday, February 3, 2016

My Childhood in a small town...

Its a quiet warm evening. We had plans to go shopping after dinner. As we stepped out of our home, the warm breeze, setting sun and serene ambience changed our plans. We decided to forego spending the rest of the evening in a mall and instead chose to walk in the neighborhood.

I am not a big fan of holding hands with kids and I get uncomfortable at that "pulled" feeling. However, this evening was different. As my kid Sriya took my palm in hers and started walking, I remembered couple years spent in a small town of Andhra Pradhesh when I was around the same age as my kid is now.

As I was lost in my thoughts, I heard Sriya asking questions which made no sense. Well, for couple seconds I was irritated. Long walks in silence are not possible with a talkative six-year old around.
My husband, who instantly recognizes my facial expressions started entertaining her in a hush-hush manner.
After coming back to present from those sweet memories, I suddenly asked Sriya "Do you want to hear about your mommy's childhood stories?" leaving my husband surprised .As they both paid attention , I started...

It was the year 1986. My dad got transferred to a small town near Vijayawada.As I stepped out of the bus after a grueling seven hour bumpy bus travel at night,I was welcomed by  River Krishna's gushing waters from the dam ,small grass stalls starting their businesses, fresh idli smell from a small cafe and the aroma of fresh milk from the milk cans.

Having known the busy life of a city with honking,rushing and smell of petrol, this scene awed me . As I took some silent steps with my dad and mom, I entered the neighborhood where the Government allocated "quarters" for the employees. I remember passing through a park and then it suddenly hit me that I had none of my friends here. Seeing my hand tightly wrapped to his wrist, my dad paused for a second, looked at me and lifted me to carry.He seemed to assure that everything will be alright.

I was led to the second-floor and my dad opened the door. I wondered how on earth would I remember our new home as every other quarter looked alike. Very soon,I started liking my new home.
A small drawing room with a guest bedroom beside it, a kitchen, a master bedroom with a balcony made me feel cozy.Having lived in a joint family,I was not used to a cozy setting like this .

Balcony had amazing view of a far-off mountain and some structure built on it.I later learnt that that was a hospital. With the temple-bells ringing in my ears, I felt a mix of excitement and some worry.
I missed my pals, my grand-father and mostly the noise .This silence was entirely new to me and I wondered if I can ever get used to this. But now I realize that kids are adept at adapting to new environment than adults.

I started with my new school, DAV Public school. Set in a place with beautiful views, and the construction with clean white walls, a library, a prayer ground, fully grown trees and with strict discipline, this was the best school I attended till date. City schools and class rooms are always cramped. I now teach my daughter the sloka that the students were made to sing before having their lunch in that school.

As days passed, I made new friends. We played on the common terrace that joined two consecutive buildings. Our favorite game was to get drenched in the water that overflowed from the over-head water tanks. I remember walking with the dripping skirt ,oil and water mixed hair back to our quarters. Though I do not recollect my mom's exact expressions, I loved the horlicks( a sweetened malt mix)  and roasted peanuts she gave me after she changed my clothes and dried my hair.

My parents enrolled me in the music classes and I used to walk with my friends every evening to learn Carnatic Music. I enjoyed that one hour of learning. My teacher was then in her 20's,playful and strict sometimes. Their family loved  me and my singing and I became my teacher's favorite in no time. My music teacher's elder sister visited the family often and she would ask me to sing a kriti or two. The Geetham  Paduma Nabha param purusha that she taught me still rings in my ears and makes me feel nostalgic. My teacher taught me a light song with great enthusiasm when I got an opportunity to sing in the "All India Radio".  Now, looking back, I feel that she had a profound influence on me though I haven't realized it then. She was gentle, loving with all of us and disciplined us at the same time. I wish I can meet her sometime again!

Sunday was a holiday to the class and we had a typical schedule. As we did not have television, my mom took me to my friends' quarters and while our moms got busy preparing and massaging
 herbal paste for our hair, we watched "Ramayana" ( A classic epic of Lord Rama).
After couple hours we would wash our hair , and then come home for lunch.
 How informal and close the relationships were at that time!

There were two playgrounds in the area. One was for kids which had swings, monkey bars and slides with benches for parents. The other located just opposite to the kids park had a huge auditorium.
All kids walked to the park and played till dusk until one of our parents would come searching and walked us back. My favorite was swinging competition .My friend would sit while I stood behind her. Then we would compete with the other friends about who would swing high.  I usually came home full of dirt and sometimes with wounds on my knees and elbows. The cut-iron corners of the slide or the rusted monkey bars did not stop us from having fun.

Really, all that physical activity, playing in a group helped me in more than one way.

During festivals ,there would be competitions like fancy dress, music ,drama and dance held in park with auditorium. That reminds me of joining  a dance class I had  joined few days before the competitions began. My dance teacher was preparing all her students for the upcoming competition and I was thrilled that I will get to wear that glittering clothes and jewelry. But my teacher had other thoughts for me.She decided that I should take part in  a "non-classical dance" as I was not proficient with classical dance yet. I thought it was still ok.

The next day, I went to the class all excited only to learn that I would participate in  a "dance-drama" and will be a "fisherman's wife". Fisherman's wife? yuck, I gasped, I was shocked and I thought of turning back and running away. But I had no choice. She made me wear a simple cotton saree tied in a Maharastrian style(the saree would come in between the legs) and some black dots on my chin.Then she tied my hair up in a bun with a plastic flower. On top of that she asked me to enact a scene where the wife would be crying that her husband beat her up and to sneeze into my hand.
That was it !!
I ran home after the class and made sure that I never come face-to-face with the teacher again.
I convinced my mom that that I would be a Cinderella or a princess and never act as a fisherman's wife.

One of the simple pleasures were our evening walks in the neighborhood. After dinner, we walked for an hour holding hands passing through the wonderful smells of jasmine and lily, hearing the temple bells, pausing for a minute when my dad or mom met their friends and my dad trying to teach me grammar or simple math playfully .I remember they laughing when I spelled something funny . They laughed when I asked them why is "l" silent in word like walking and talking.

Temperatures would rise upto 45 degrees in summer and the weather is very humid. I waited for my summer holidays like every child would. Dad would soak heavy blankets in cold water and hang on all windows to keep the temperature sane inside. Mom would buy new earthen pots to store water and  cover them with them wet towels all the time. She used to spread the vegetables on a cloth and sprinkle water on them to keep them fresh.Those were the days where the refrigerators, air coolers and air conditioners were not among the "mandatory" items. People could still live without them.

My favorite pass time in summer was reading books. I was and am a big fan of books and I enjoyed the long uninterrupted reading time sitting beside a window that overlooked  the wide road and covered by trees on either side. I read all epics like Ramayana, Mahabharata, Bhagavata and even remember reading "KumaraSambhava" by Kalidasa written in the form of slokas.The comics like Tinkle, Chandamama,Amar Chitra Katha were my favorites.

Reading books had its own advantages and disadvantages. While they gave me immense knowledge and helped me build strong language skills, I felt I have changed. I became more and more silent with no Grandfather around to bear my tantrums.I felt that I am pampered less and less and mom and dad took control of me. My dad once said that I became more focussed and suddenly grown up and left my continuous talking and mischief.Yes, my extended family knows that side of me very well.On one occasion,when I complained about my kid's continuous chatter to my Uncle, he lovingly said "You know my dear, world is round. Its your turn now" .

My dad worked in shift systems as an Assistant Engineer. He worked in night shifts twice a week and I would wait for him to come back. He would bring us the delicious breakfast that is a local delicacy. He used to wake me up at six in the morning, brush my teeth and make me eat the breakfast.

The afternoons comprised of light lunch with vegetables that had more water content. The area was more prone to Chicken pox and we had to be careful. The mangoes  in that region are my all-time favorite as they had a different flavor unlike the mangoes I had in Hyderabad. My dad would wash them up, cut in small pieces and placed them beside the salad he used to prepare everyday.

Stay tuned to hear my bantering about the  personalized, open-waters swimming lessons every evening.

More to come....

See you soon!