Those were the days

I remember my childhood as seasons passing by. Winter – for hot baths (mostly afternoon baths) and studies; summers – for cricket and field trips; and monsoon - monsoon was my favourite. The scent of earth just before the first shower, bringing a sensational feeling, as if something new and exciting is about to happen. And it did excite me. I switched from one school to another and the monsoon would follow. It was always exciting to make new friends but I was no good with other aspects. Sometimes, I would be punished for calling teachers with wrong name. How was a 5th grade student supposed to know that all Maths teachers are not to be called Miss Jauncy? Especially, when their name begun with Mr.

My stay at boarding school lasted two years. It would have been very short, had I dared to call our six feet history teacher ‘BIGSHOW’ (a nick name given to her). How was a 9th grade student supposed to know that BIGSHOW was a famous WWF wrestler of that time?

Every morning, Mr Bundela, our sports in charge, would make us run five rounds of the campus, followed by fifteen minutes of yoga / relaxing exercise. I and most of my classmates preferred only the first and last round. The others rounds were spent hiding in school building, preferably inside the corner washroom, while other athletes worked on building their stamina. One fine morning Mr Bundela heard his nature call but was shocked to see nature’s harness on over ten students at the same time. The very next day wakeup call shifted from 5:30 a.m. to 5:00 a.m. and number of rounds increased to seven. No one dared to hide that day, but only half the class stood up after yoga practice. (Last aasan performed was Shavasana)

Don’t get me wrong, I love cows and would bring no personal harm to them. But, I’ve enjoyed riding carts as much as riding a boat. The only villager quality, I would readily admit. We would hop on and hop off every bullock cart on our way back from school. Sometimes, the rider would use his riding stick to throw us off his fully loaded vehicle. During picnics to farm house, uncle would make us sit on cows and buffaloes but never bulls (bulls can get really angry), while they rested on pile of hay. Our twenty-thirty kilos of weight always went unnoticed.

We had several dogs at farmhouse that I feared the most. So, I was introduced to little monkey named Chameli. I had no intension to ride her, but when I asked her for a hand shake (which is very common form on introduction with dogs), she took it by surprise and smacked me. I started crying and decided not to go near her. I slept under the shade of a giant tree and instead became friends with dogs using the same handshake trick. In search of vengeance, I ate the whole banana myself in-front of Chameli, depriving her of afternoon snack.