THE FEEL OF WET GRASS BENEATH THE FEET
There is no electricity, it is
around 2.15 a.m. My mind is getting clouded…A lot of memories come rushing in. The
mosquitoes are buzzing in the ears. Without the fan it is difficult. The humid
heat becomes unbearable but somehow my memories keep me calm. Perhaps that is
the function of memories. They have always done so for every person. As the
present situations worsen and because the future is uncertain, most get solace
from their past, and some get strength. May be that is the reason why we find
our past better.
Now as it was hot I had an urge to
get inside the blanket! It was a strange habit that I had when I was a kid.
When we had first started staying at Faridabad we used to live at 5NH(NeighbourHood)
at a house owned by one Mr.Adlakha. His wife was a teacher at Dayanand Anglo Vedic school at I NH where my brother and I got admission initially. The
house which was rented to us was a portion of ground floor, the other portion
owned by another malayalee family of Mr.Kurien. Our portion almost had no
windows. In the hot afternoons I remember using a hose to water the walls of
our room. The white washed walls would soon soak up the water and the ceiling
fan would dry up the water and what remained was a cooled comfortable room. In
this room I used to lie on the floor under a blanket. I sweated then the
ceiling fan did the same to me what it did to our room.
Thinking back now though we
did not have much, the family was together and close. It is difficult for me to
make anyone understand the way our family bonded. The relationships were so
beautiful. As comforts increase families have ceased to exist. People are now
interested in arrangements. Often these arrangements are what we know as
families of today. Arrangements where all try to outwit, clash to let their
egos tower over the egos of others. When “the fathers were the head of the
family and mothers were the heart of the family” children had better childhoods. With equal rights awareness
reaching dizzying heights most families have become double engine trains where
often the trains are pulling in the opposite direction and the compartments
suffer.
Near the Adlakha residence
there were small stores where you could buy a lot of things. Bottles of sweet
soda with a marble to cork it and they were known by the name of
marble-“kancha”.Its true in life too .Often the bottles are forgotten the corks get famous. You could rent comics for 25paise for one day. Evenings you could
buy chappattis and sabzi.
We started playing cricket
with Sonu and Raju, Adlakha’s sons. Due to heat and frequent dust storms in the
evening and the ill ventilated house we lived in my mother who was a chronic
asthmatic became so sick she had to be hospitalized. Now being a father myself
I can but marvel at the way my father handled two children with my mom at the
hospital. I had shifted to St.Joseph’s convent near by. We later shifted to one Kishen lal’s rented place which was not far from Adlakha’s.The best feature was
it was on first floor and there were big windows with large panes throwing in
plenty of light and air.
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