Monday, February 13, 2012

bombay blues

Trotting towards the school bus, basket in hand and a rain coat covering some of the body, while I use my yellow 'robot' umbrella, I splash water with every step, having to stop regularly and empty my gum boots. As the bus honks away asking people to hurry, I get in and take my favorite seat. The seat above the rear tyres. Keeping the window open and letting some drops come in as the bus moves, I had to keep cleaning my glasses from time to time until my kerchief was too wet. Off went the bus up towards the hilltop, winding ways going on and on. Rainy days meant prayers in class. The class rooms were damp, dark and extremely moist. The tubelights were needed the whole day. The left corner of the room was reserved to hang the raincoats and the umbrellas. That is where my robot umbrella stood shining among sober ones. I remember the P.T. An activity every little kid with spectacles would dread. Sometimes they break, sometimes they are made to break and now they do not want it. However, the PT Sir, is bound to have other plans for you. I loved football, except when the ball started flying towards my head. So, I would just slink away and move towards the edge of the ground where we had torn the fence. Freedom. I could walk in and out of school. I would catch those shiny little pink crabs and make them fight each other. At times, I would gather a zoo of different species just to see which one hated which one and even try aquatic fights by putting them into a polythene cover. Staring at the thousands of dragon flies, I would catch one of them with some help. Tying a string around them and around the goal post, I would see the helpless insect fighting it's way and I would think I am going through the same. Post-school, I used to have a lot of outdoor time. The then famous, hide-n-seek and it's variants with some roughness involved. Trying to find a place to hide, I hid behind a mound of bricks and to my surprise I found a kitten, perhaps a week old and injured struggling to move. I believe it was because it was dirty. Stalling the game, I took it back to my apartment and gave it a luxurious bath, perhaps making it worse. I would go to Anoop's place where we would play board games. He was the only other kid who I knew who would travel in my bus. I remember the days where we would fight for our friends, but then, sometimes fight with them too. This was the place I struggled initially. My mother helped me through by learning hindi and then teaching me so that I can manage easily. That was 1995. I am now older by seventeen years. The memories hit back when they find time to. And they did now. Those little moments, the adventure, the innocence, all in all, it was fun.

2 comments:

shivangi said...

Some incidents are itched forever in our minds, I guess this is one of that. I like how you captured the minute details of it and the way your Mom swooped in to save you. Well, Moms do that always.

Gururaj said...

I guess it is only when the mind gets time to ruminate that these incidents fall out into the open. The ever running pace of life makes one stove everything away for another day.