Bits and Pieces

Chapter1 – The Wonder Years

Picture a collection of coins organized in neat rows of plastic sleeves in a passionate numismatist’s (coin collector’s) coin album. Each coin, whether bright and shiny or rusted and lack luster, is irreplaceable. And consequently, each coin is just as dear to the collector as the other. My life thus far has been uncannily similar to the aforesaid album of coins, rich in its collection of myriad moments. I must admit that preserving this album hasn’t been an easy task as a notorious pickpocket called ‘Time’ has tried swooping in and relieving me of my treasure on more than one instance. To chronicle these pieces is therefore the most prudent decision. With my head buzzing with several stories that clamour to share this space, I am attempting today to recapture a time -

1) When summer vacations meant reading books by the dozen and imagining the midnight feasts at St. Claire’s, George’s Kirrin island and it’s infinite mysteries, Heidi’s red faced grandfather serving her fresh cheese, bread and milk for breakfast, David Copperfield’s and Oliver Twist’s dramatic lives, the virtuous yet fun-filled stories of Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy from Little Women and Bobby, Phyllis and Peter from The Railway Children……… my list would never end.

2) When Papa always came home from his evening game of squash and hurled his sweat drenched t-shirt at me, letting out a loud chortle when it landed right on my face. The wet t-shirt sometimes took the form of smelly socks instead, just to add a bit of spice to the daily drama!

3) When mornings always began with Ma emerging all pink and fresh from her morning bath, smelling mildly of Pond’s cold cream (a blue and white jar of which always sat in the bathroom cabinet) and coaxing me lovingly out of bed.

4) When a 4 year old Pranay mutilated lyrics of popular Hindi songs to suit his requirements. ‘Bas ek shaam zulf ki’ became ‘Bas ek shaam wolf ki’ and ‘Kali Kali bahaar ki’ became ‘Kali kali bahaar ti’. His renditions often made us laugh so hard that our sides hurt.

5) When trips to New Market usually meant chhole bhature at ‘Little Hut’ and sundaes or cola-floaters at ‘Top n Town’ while trips to old Bhopal meant bringing back a handi full of aromatic biryani from the ramshackle yet extremely popular 'Medina' dhaba.

6) When hot summer days were made pleasant by sitting in front of a water cooler devouring golden yellow mangoes straight from the refrigerator and cold winter nights were made warm by snuggling in between Ma and Papa under heavy quilts (sometimes with a hot water bottle toasting my feet) watching ‘Oshin’ or ‘Doogie Howser M.D’

7) When a perfect weekend meant starting my day with cartoons on ‘Doordarshan’, a special Sunday brunch, extended play time in the evening with friends, being greeted back home with a tall glass of cold coffee or a warm mug of cocoa (depending on the season) and ending the day with a fun movie on television.

8) When having your own room was a privilege grandly bestowed upon the first born (which was Me) and lying prostrate outside the door, slipping sheets of paper, bits of wood and other odds and ends under the door while whining constantly to be allowed inside was a right stubbornly demanded by the last born (read Pranay)

9) When trips to Bhopal meant Dadi’s time tested bed time tales and Dadaji’s kurta pockets which were famous for their never ending supply of toffees or when trips to Pune meant ransacking Nani’s stockpile of ‘Pan Pasand’ toffees and helping her pluck ripe mangoes off the rows of mango trees in the backyard.

10) When school meant 6 hours of friends and fun, interspersed with lessons.

11) When every day the sun rose to a raucous sound of Pranay’s cries of protest against being woken up early for school as he sat atop the laundry box, dangling his tiny legs. Toothbrush in hand, he would more often than not recline on his perch to catch a few more seconds of shut-eye and end up smearing his pajamas with toothpaste (calling for a larger dose of Ma’s ire).

12) When packing and moving lock, stock and barrel every three years was an understood and expected phenomenon. The minute all our rectangular iron boxes were pulled out from their various hiding places and polished with a fresh coat of black paint, I knew that it would soon be time to say goodbye to my friends, my school, my room and other things I had grown fond of. At the same time it also meant that an exciting fresh start in a brand new place was in the offing.

13) When each time Papa packed his trunk for a long temporary duty to some godforsaken remote hinterland, a small doll of mine or a picture of all of us together or some similar memento found its way in between the neat folds of his olive greens, to remind him of his loved ones back home.

14) When going to a friend’s place for a sleepover was the rarest of rare occurrence and called for lots of excitement, excessive preparation (almost as if I was going to be gone for a month) and a list of dos and don’ts from Ma.

15) When finally I did embark upon a long sleepover of sorts which meant leaving home for the first time to go live in a college hostel, I wanted to bawl like a baby.

                                                                                                                  …………….To be Continued