Summer snapshots.

Summer. A week filled with exams, the last day the toughest to get through, then - FREEDOM!!! Bags packed, a night's journey by bus - with ghat sections that looked menacing at nights; filled with snakes waiting to jump on to the bus from the trees and slither down through my window [I firmly believed they would till I was nearly 12 :)] ; and, then, Heaven!!! Long idyllic days spent with cousins; playing, fighting, driving imaginary buses to the tunes of songs from the latest Bollywood flick on the swing in the maaLi [room in the roof], mangoes, jackfruits, beaches, charmbura upkari, local colas and orange drinks, weddings, munjis, a trip to Udipi and Uppoond, both taken up with enthusiasm proportional to the size of the crowd that went, a visit to the Krishna math, ensured by the bribe of going to Hotel Diana and eating gudbud , the ice cream from Annayya's, kittens, calves, half-ripe guavas and ice candies for quarter annas; khambada aata, bluff, gaddava; Aanegudde and Hattiangadi - where the temples were only an excuse, Pepsis, sugar cane juice and Erola dolo [still unable to find what it is called in English :)], Kaju fruit, walks of 4 kms in the sun and crazy auto drivers; ghost stories made up during narration, some even enacted; plans of putting up a big show for the Elders and practice for the same - the fact that it never materialized didn't matter. In fact, most things didn't matter. Fights were much less complex and mostly binary, Feelings were more open. Adults were complex creatures from whom we remained, thankfully, aloof. Life was simple and beautiful.

Summer. Taste of first freedom. First time away from home. Hostel life. Room mate. Friends. Fun. Crushes. Disappointments and elations. A decision to move away from home.

Summer. A first hand experience of the 'judaai' that poets form Kaalidasa to Gulzaar and Javed Akhtar pen about. First realizations of the frustrations that my career holds. Heart ache. Confusions.

Summer. Parting - from the place that gave me so much. Pain of realising that the best time of my student life is probably over. That my best friend was going to be miles away and all the late night gappe would have to be only on phone from now on. On the verge of a break up - or, maybe it was already over and I was refusing to believe it. Struggle to readjust to home life. To get accustomed to my family. Illness. Death. Denial. Pain.

Summer. Fresh hope. Uncertainties but a few certainties too. Career decisions. Personal milestones. A search for my priorities and an attempt to decide what I really want. The comfort offered by the cocoon of love of my dear ones. The calm confidence that I can face challenges without collapsing. A silent longing for those good old idyllic summer days, but, the sense of loss of childhood made up for by the realisation that I have grown. Into a person I rather like. The joy now is not because of the ignorance of childhood, but by the mindset of choosing to be positive and happy no matter what Life brings.

I remember, I remember.......

I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily cups--
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,--
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Thomas Hood

Read a lovely article by Vanita Dawra Nangia in the Times today. [The O-zone column]. She reminisces about her childhood days, remembering incidents from school days and how things that had affected her deeply back then seem trivial now. That images crumble and things diminish with time. She makes a lovely statement - "Childhood magnifies everything. Even buildings take on bigger dimensions than in reality. I remembered the school building to be much bigger than what I actually found it to be"

Experienced this when i went to Kundapur for Ganapati this year. Kundapur was a haven for us kids. A childhood paradise. Well, at some point all of us non-kundapur-ites have wished to have been living there. As kids, a huge one acre land - filled with mango and jackfruit trees, a rambling house, filled with wondrous nooks and corners to be explored, a lovely 'maaLi' of our own, with the huge swing, the river in walking distance, the sea at an hour's drive - was heaven on earth. The days spent idling away in the 'hittal' under the trees, by the lake; plucking mangoes and guavas; on the swing, swinging away with as much force as our little legs had, to the latest hit hindi songs playing on the tape recorder; trips planned by adults to Udipi or Mangalore, always with some 8 -9 kids in tow, ending with a Gudbud and Masala dosa at Paarijaata; the regular deliveries of 'Charmbura upkari' [Bhel] and Homemade ice cream from Annayya's little stall; the ice-candies bought at 25 p ; the countless games of cards, khambada aata and tons of other make-believe games; fights and patch-ups - Summer holidays at Kundapur used to be the highlight of each year. The house seemed huge, the town - confusing to navigate, the town temple - impressive, Kundeshwar seemed too far to walk, Mamamma was the omnipotent, strong matriarch, and Kundapur - the perfect heaven, resistant to change, resistant to adulteration, pristine and pure.

Went to Kundapur after an year - or was it two? - for Ganapati festival. This time, surprisingly, it felt as though I was looking at it anew. The house was not the gigantic place that existed in my memory, the doors [Hebbagila] didn't seem as impressive, the land - not as rambling as before, the swing - more compact, the town - much smaller, and, sadly, less populated; the town temple seemed like a small shrine. It was greatly unsettling. I couldn't relate this place to the memories I had of it. The town was the same - at least, in size and layout. Yet it seemed different. What made it so was the change in perspective. The Child had gone. It was an Adult now, trying to find the paradise of her childhood in the place that it now is. But an adult can never find the world as marvelous as a child does. An adult has seen the reality and found it to be harsh. The adult finds it impossible to shy away from the truth - that the town is changing; the shops selling home-made ice cream are no more; that Mamamma has aged and is growing weaker and, might not be around one day; that all fights can not end with a "forgive and forget"; that no matter how hard we swing, it is sometimes impossible to touch the sky; that the idyllic times of childhood are never going to return; that life is about earning enough, making a career, finding leave, short vacations, long and hectic work days, deadlines and appraisals, difficult choices, break ups and heart aches, adjustments, compromises, illnesses, responsibilities, separations and death. That people we idolized as kids have their own fair share of faults, and those whom we hated were not demons. In fact, there is no black and white, just gray; varying shades of it.

Yet, the adult finds respite in those brief lapses into childhood - where the mind, for a moment, forgets all that it's "learnt" and becomes innocent again and travels into a non-adult world. A world where Dreams are dreamt and they do come true, where situations are binary - yes/no, like/don't like, 1/0 - and not complex. The adult-turned-child then laughs, dreams, believes - and finds hope that life isn't meaningless after all. That no matter how dreary things might seem, Life is beautiful enough to Live - and to Live it whole-heartedly! The swings are still there, one just needs to believe that one can touch the sky - and, who knows, one fine day, it just might happen!!