e-firsts

..."Do you have a choco-bar?", The vendor religiously pulled out one and I started enjoying the same looking in the craziness of Janpath at Connaught Place (New Delhi). This area is so much full of activity, there is so much hustle-bustle going on that sometimes you really wonder "what are they upto? why is everybody going crazy?" and my mind instantly started to roam around twenty years back in time to the rustic life of Indian villages.

Being born in a village from western UP, always reminds me of those open green fields, chirping of birds, the scare crow and the gofan (a sling used to throw stones to scare away birds eating crops). It was in 1986 when parents moved from the village (due to dad’s new job). Life became pretty mechanistic with customary schools nearly 10 months a year and then 2 months summer holidays. But it was these 2 months which were the best part. I vividly remember the scenes when my grand-father used to greet us with sparkling-eyes on our visits. Next one and half months were just fun especially with some of my cousins also around. There was nearly NO routine, just eating-playing-sleeping, more-eating more-playing more-sleeping and the cycle went on unobstructed for full period :) Most special were visits to mela and almost weekly to the local market with my grandmother. Have you ever sat on a tonga where buffalo-carts would desperately try to outrun horse-carts? Time travels you see!

My grandmother used to love me too much (m being the eldest kid in family), the customary pennies everyday and a gullakk is actually a true story :) I would be the chosen one among all kids in the house whenever it was some special occasion like visiting families for daawats (kind of festive community feasts on marriages etc) or visits to markets, or even visits to relatives in nearby villages. The daawats always had kheer, puri, aloo-ki-subji with jal-jeera. The hosts would invariably put a lot of boora (powdered sugar) in kheer which I used to hate always. Nevertheless, the taste buds always liked the delicacies.

In daytime, mostly we were accompanied by grand-father to the fields where he would show us different types of watermelons, muskmelons, sunmelons which he specially used to crop in summers. Mostly we would run all by ourselves deep into the fields and try to get some fruits & berries. His eyes constantly followed us and as soon as we returned, used to peel off the melons and distribute to all. Some days we would leave early mornings and come back by evening. It was always an amazing experience taking a bath in cold tube-well water, the breakfast and lunch was mostly delivered in fields where we would feast upon in shades and seated on rope-knitted charpoys. Sometimes, we would chase away stray animals with ropes and sticks in hand. The chase would invariably always leave a trail of dust which used to take time to settle and the scene was panoramic specially with the sun-setting down in the horizons. On returning back, the food was traditionally served to senior male members and rest would have it later. Many a times, we sat next just watching him. He always wore a “gandhi-topi” and “dhoti-kurta” and was a man of few words. Infact I don’t remember him speaking much. Heavy voice, few small sentences! The days will pass so fast that the departing day will come and there will be lot of customary-crying (somehow I never thought it was real) by relatives! What I recall, are only the teary-eyes of my grandfather.

Years came and years passed by, I graduated from one class to another. It was in 1995, it all came to a standstill when my grand-father passed away. I never went again to our ancestral home. It wasn’t a conscious choice but when I grew older, I myself had no inclination to visit again. And I knew for obvious, there would be nobody waiting for us. No sparkling eyes in anticipation!

“Hey Bachchan…….Bachchan…”, It was somebody patting on my shoulder which brought me back to reality. Standing behind me was my class-mate for whom I was waiting at CP. By this time, the choco-bar had mostly melted and some of it was on my shoes, we started strolling towards Café Coffee Day with me still engrossed in wilderness of the past. Somebody has aptly said, "What we remember from childhood we remember forever - permanent, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen."

-Bachchan