There was a time when while coming back from the school, he used to pass a path, with three ponds on sides. So at one point in the path there used to be a pond on either side. That was the place he used to love turn the tails of the stray cow, so that it runs and throws all in its path to the ponds on either side. Though at times have fallen to its side effect. When the cow decides to charge back, and the instigator becomes the victim; and take refuge in the mud and bushes on the pond bank. And come back with a muddy shoe and explain why and what happened to Ammi.
Enid Blyton – had an early effect, and he had his own den; deep in the overgrowth in one of the big gardens. A cleared patch, with bricks placed strategically to cover it from the rest of the world. With a trench dug up, to drain the rain water, and a shade of lotus leaves and kochu (what is it called in English?) leaves giving a shade. We cultivated anthills, to stop intruders coming in.
We knew the taste of each mango tree, and the Jamrul, and lichee. The Mango trees were marked and each used to have a number inscribed. The numbers depicted the number of mangoes traced in them. The choicest ones used have strings tied so them when they were raw, and people suspect less of theft. And used to help us pluck them when they are ripe easily, without raising suspicions or even climbing the trees. All we need to do is pull the string and it would fall.
Playing king was the most exciting game there, with regular army, bamboo arrows with tips hardened by heating them; wooden swords with nails put on the tip to make them sharp; armors made of banana trunk, shields made of broken wooden furniture and building fixtures. With regular practice sessions, we had a formidable army of seven (including two females) who were feared by rest of the peer teams. I was obviously the undisputed king.
Oh and then there was that bike trip, in those small bicycles. Mine was red and Nilendu had the blue one. His one was more robust while mine had a puncture-proof tires. We used to regularly race behind trucks on the Bombay road (NH2). Once the truck (or should I say Lorry – as we used to call them) driver noticed two small cycles frantically pedaling to keep pace with its mechanical six wheels. So he braked hard – and disaster. We were not in a position to brake – so we steered. Nilendu had the canal in his side – and went there. And I had shops lined up on my shop, so I crashed in one. While people from the keen deep mud picked Nilendu, I was inside the Sweetshop, nearly on the lap of halwai, with sweats thrown everywhere and broken pieces of showcase glass. People knew both Nilendu and me. Me as the brat and Nilendu as the son of the vet (ghorar dactar). So we were spared after a massive scolding. And then dad took me to hospital in the evening, with broken pieces of glass lodged inside my left knee and heel. It took 3 weeks and 6 dressing to get rid of them and the resulting infection. That was the first visit to the Hospital dressing room.
while starting my journey, I searched for my love, and I landed on a space longing and loving rain… are we rivals or fellow journeymen on the same quest of love and rain?
childhood really is the best time. and all we want to do is grow up! i dont think todays kids have it as easy though. everythings so competitive, its all about having your ipods and nintendo.
seems like we all get stuck in our mess. i find myself wrting so much depressive stuff i think it should be called bog instead of blog ! haha buts thats just me at the moment.
what i dislike about myself though is the fact that i know it can only go up… yet i find the journey up is always a slow one. and i keep falling back down. like a yo yo. i know , i need to change myself. thats long hard work..
ps: loved the b&w picture of your mum. i am assuming that is her.
sweet lil days !
reflecting on childhood ? have nt allowed myself that in years . hope i can some day . not some concocted story to boost a demoralized child .not a figment of imagination to make my past more colourful.not a bunch of glamorous pictures that reek of a spoilt kid and her childhood . not one carefully edited to tell an inquisitive bunch of relatives.not one that is idealistically correct to show my 4 year old fren his path in life.
but one that is lying somewhere ,i hope it is , unattended ,unkempt ,lonely, cold and dark .maybe someday someone will come and help me unpack the contents.
eeyyyeewww . u are making me all mushy . i hate you . unlike you many of us have a life to live and cant afford to wallow in deep pools of emotion .
by the way . achis kemon ? hows your love life going . heard its been raining in your city. no us -we prefer to eagerly wait for monsoon instead of immature impulsive showers.
you have nt written poems in a while ,what happened ? girl fren copyright ?
Mogambo khush hua!!
LOL…whoever wrote tht line was a genius man! To get a big-shit criminal to say it and then chuckle, I think it was some kind of private joke on Mr. Puri…Anyway, i said it coz tht explains how I felt reading about your exploits of yonder…Bada mazaa aaya…Khuda kare aapki alternate timeline mein aap phir yoonhi madmast rahein…
OK too much urdu happened…
wet blankets make me sneeze – and then my lungs get very angry and irritated. i dare not irritate them.
moonlit bubbles – well no offence but i prefer bubbles that shine in sunlight .thatz wen the colourful spectra is at its optimum . moonlit is hardly illuminating , its for things shady ,or shady actions . maybe even shady creatures . wiser to keep kids away from shady moonlit nites even if bubbles provide an innocent facade.
ok dont kill me . i m just being myself . monsoon comig to hyderabad first then bangalore.chek ur facts.
we hyderabadis are the patient sort – we dont jump around in sudden showers – like amateur lovers .we wait for the monsoon – she comes and quenches our thirst like a long passionate night.
are nt you cooking these days – have nt heard you brag about your cooking skills in a while .
watever happened to girlfren ? wen a man is in love (suddenly ,as ur post said) and then again he starts to speak of his childhood ,it only implies kuch garbar hai baap.kya hua ? bata bata we are all frens are nt we?
its 2.40am now and the temp is 28degs.heard its raining in calcutta.
hehe, thanks for thinking right!! Yes, it is an exciting job, or atleast sounds like it on paper!! But you don have a bad deal yourself…When I started studying, I thought I\’d probably be doing what you\’re doing right now..But then tried and realised it\’s too much pressure with very little gratification…or maybe I was in the wrong firm…
Anyway, now I can officially invite whoever I want to drink with me without sounding promiscous!! So yeah…Your invited…whenever…
some people are getting pervert ideas- there is nothing wrong with searchengine . thank u for your concern . and kindly elaborate on – bhimri in gorom -cos the only thing i am eating is my dinner .
well yes…passion keeps me alive…my music and sports and ppl!…
the adrenalin that goes along with it keeps me alive….u bet its risky business…but its worth evry bit of it…!
its just that…its sad wen ppl dont put their heart into their work n living… i mean how often is it that u find an ace footballer…who duznt passionately luv his game…. a good artist who duznt liv for aesthetics…or evn a good romance…with sum1 who isnt passionate…?
the risk i guess is when passion edges towards obsession!….
do u kno of the whole s.c.bose….recovery issue?…i was jus watchin it on tv…
oh well anyways thnx…for all u said!
hirak rajar deshe shobai raja …..
these are pics of cloud failed to see rain . maybe u r delusional . chek ur facts and fiction.
oh, i was referring to the child king and his kingdom, hirak rajar desh…a distant land where you are the invincible king
i liked your blog….but confused after reading the comments..unfinished conversations i guess, anyways i\’ve read the blogs of some of them…i already know that they are capable of confusing me :))…please visit mine…
…and King horus had a falll!
naughty since childhood horus!!
i think every kid has had an accident during childhood..which has resulted in a hospital trip! i fell down the stairs with my litte tricycle..got stiches and all that!
good read as always 🙂