Straight from Papa's mouth - The Gum Boots

I have sometimes wondered how I came to possess a fervent imagination, one which is constantly itching to get down to business. The answer perhaps lies in the fact that I was born to parents who placed a high premium on good reading, listening and regaling skills. I grew up hearing Papa narrate comical incidents from his own childhood with such merry abandon and animated gesticulations that no matter how many times they were repeated, these tales of mischief would always manage to gather an avid audience. Mummy ‘s bed time tales from Aesop’s Fables, Grimms Brothers’ Fairy Tales and Mahabharata were also recounted with such aplomb that it was difficult not to picture the quixotic characters and places. Enraptured, I would listen to both sets of stories, building corresponding images in my mind while dreaming of someday being able to recapitulate with just as much gusto.

This is my first attempt to put on paper these tit-bits from the past and I hope that you enjoy reading them as much as I have enjoyed listening to them.

It was one of those late December evenings in Gwalior when merciless gusts of cold wind threatened to freeze those who dared to venture out and cups of hot masala chai (masala tea) and pakoras were handed out to those ensconced in the warmth of Buaji’s house. Three generations of family huddled around an old heater which barely managed to spout enough hot air to warm ice cold fingers and toes. Enveloped in sweaters, scarves and shawls, we braved the sub zero temperature that night with chai, pakoras, a rickety heater and an inevitable round of storytelling. Fuelled by the sweet gingery kick of chai, anecdotes and real life incidents soon started flowing in copious amounts. Several stories branched out, multiplying like neutrons in a nuclear fission reaction.

4 brothers (my father being one of them) – the biggest mischief makers of their time- figured in more than one tale. A story of one of these brothers, brother number 3 to be precise, who will be referred to as P (a respected doctor in today’s day and age) left everyone laughing so hard that tears trickled down most cheeks. Here goes……. Summer vacations had begun and the first day dawned bright and sunny - simply perfect for all the tomfoolery already mushrooming in his head. With much effort P shook off the drowsiness which lay heavy on his eyelids and looked around to check if he was the last one to get up. As conscientious as ever, his oldest brother S was sitting at his study deeply immersed in a book while brother number 2, R was nowhere to be seen. His youngest brother, brother number 4, also known as my Dad or D, sat on his bed fiddling around in general.

‘Let’s play Hide and Seek today!!!’ exclaimed P jumping out of bed in one quick leap and landing right in front of S. Keeping his book aside, S appraised him from top to bottom and replied with great disdain ‘At least brush your teeth and drink your milk before you begin hatching plans for the day’. P turned a questioning gaze towards D who was already nodding excitedly, giving his consent for a game of Hide and Seek. Within minutes all 4 brothers were outside in the courtyard along with their friends from the neighborhood all set to kick off the vacations in style. With a whole lot of cheating and some luck P managed to avoid being the Seeker and couldn’t help making fun of his poor slob of a friend who was conned into being one. As the Seeker turned his back to the rest of the boys and began counting, the group scattered in an instant. A few crouched behind nearby stone pillars while others slinked into the recesses between houses.

P took off as quickly as his legs could take him, determined to find the most ingenious place to hide. Soon he found himself standing at a road construction site a little further away from home. The place was littered with empty cylindrical cans of coal tar (dambar in Hindi) which were almost as tall as P himself. But crouching behind one of these cans seemed too clichéd to P. Just as he was about to take off once again in search of a perfect hiding place a glimmer of an idea lit up in his head bringing a broad smile to his face. He checked the can in front of him and found it devoid of its usual content: molten coal tar. Having checked a few more cans he was convinced that all the cans were empty and would serve as an ideal hiding place.

With great dexterity P hauled himself over the can kept at the far end of the construction site and swiftly lowered himself inside. All this while, he did not take his eyes off the road as he knew that by now the Seeker would be roaming around like a wild animal searching for his prey. When he had almost sunk to the bottom of the can he happened to look down at his body inside the can and couldn’t believe his eyes. His lower body, beyond the waist, was submerged in a shiny jet black viscous solution of coal tar! ‘How could this happen?’ he thought in dismay. In his hurry, he had not checked all the cans and had assumed after looking into a few that the rest were empty as well. A little shred of panic wriggled its way into P’s heart as he sank deeper into the quick sand like coal tar. ‘This is no time to panic’, he told himself sternly. The gears in his brain started creaking and grunting as he mulled over plans to get out of his predicament

A few hours of struggle later an exhausted P heaved himself out of the can. Huffing and panting he stood on the road now but his troubles had not ended just as yet. His legs were covered in a thick layer of coal tar and it appeared as if he was wearing knee length dark black gum boots which stuck to the hot road as if they had adhesive on their soles. Slowly he inched back home as each step felt like a mile. ‘Maybe this is how it feels when one is walking on an iron road wearing magnetic shoes’ he imagined. Thoughts of super heroes swooping in and carrying him back home crossed his mind along with images of his favorite halwa-poori which painfully tantalized his fast building hunger.

Needless to say, P reached home and was received by a stunned group of brothers and friends. Not wanting to look like a complete fool in front of everyone, P began boasting about his adventures and clowning around showing off his coal tar boots. I can only imagine what must have transpired between him and his mother (my Dadiji) when she found out what had happened but I am cent percent sure that he wasn’t rewarded with halwa-poori. I am told that it took all of her patience and a gallon or more of kerosene oil to peel off the adventures of the day. In that moment all characters of this story must have been unaware of the number of times this incident was to be recounted in years to come and the generations ahead who were going to hear about it on cold winter nights drinking chai and devouring pakoras.