Old memories......

Something I saw on facebook triggered this.....

My childhood is so vague in my memory.....maybe I was not very attentive as a child.......Those were the days of "chitrahaar" and pepsi cola....:P

It is said that smell is the best trigger of memory ....the smell of "vibhuti" (sacred ash) triggers the vision of my mother in the small enclave in my house in mumbai....
I remember my mother ...fair....beautiful......looking fresh in her 9 yards saree......murmuring incantations ......after the worship she used to force consecrated "prasad" down my throat....and push my head in obeisance towards the laminated photo of our family deity.....

I remember the fights I used to have with my sister......unrecognizable now as a stern matriarch disciplining her children as once my mother did.....
Our fights were legendary......she never backed down and I remember hitting her with my small fists screaming "Dishum" with every wallop I packed....

Battles with my sister were always a lose-lose situation...though I would win the battle by making my mother side with me(I was the younger one so my mother was possessive about me, much to my sisters chagrin). After the fight she would go into the other room and lock herself up.....and how could I let her have all the fun alone...I would knock the door and ask in a gruff voice "what she thought of herself??"......No response....I would then use a more gentler enquiring tone to find out whether she was playing without me and having fun in the process!!!
I can imagine her giggling with suppressed glee while retorting that I may as well say goodbye to the toys which we both shared........Mute rage used to take over me and I would run over to my mother who by this time would have lost interest in our fight and just retort by saying that nowadays I need to pay attention to my studies......I remember thinking how stupid grown-ups were....no sense of priority...the toys were at stake and there was a very good chance my sister may be wreaking havoc with them or worst marrying off He-man and Evelyn....(the He-man doll was my favourite....I had stolen it from my friends house and his sword was moth-eaten)


I specifically remember the clock striking 8:15 p.m......that was the time my father arrived after a punishing day on the Mumbai train.....The moment the bell rang we both would rush for the door........there was a reason for that......my fathers office had a canteen from where he would get us biscuits........that was all he could afford.....he would smile in tired satisfaction as we ruffled through the "red bag" ( He always bought the goodies in the red bag)....Now as I look back I can see the tired eyes of my father.......tiredness from a life which gave him no freedom.......bound him to a chair for 30 years.....he always liked to travel.....A history buff and a naturalist at heart.....he detested being tied to a spot.......someday I hope to take him on a Eurotrip.....

Sundays were good......there used to be Ramayan on TV......and at 2 in the afternoon my friends would call me for playing box cricket.....
I was mortally afraid if someone would suggest over-arm bowling or playing in the ground...since I was very good at thrashing them at under-arm bowling........playing in the ground would mean losing to the guys who I used to make mincemeat of in underarm cricket....:P...
sometimes I would feign stomach ache just to escape playing in the field....
I remember one specific incident which my building friends still refer to......on one such day when I was trying to evade playing in the field...one of the bullies in my building held me the scruff of my shirt and asked me why the little imp thought the field was not good enough for him...
I responded by saying that I am prone to "summer boils" and my mother has strictly prohibited me from playing in the sun.....After 8-9 seconds of stunned silence all of them burst into peals of laughter....because it was winter in Mumbai..:P