I am always surprised by how much people remember about their childhoods.... I am somehow always a little lost when it comes to remembering my childhood. I don't remember much perhaps as a consequence of the limited hard disk that i was configured with (I show signs of it even now, so it is not that i had selective memory loss in my childhood) :). But then, every time, i go down memory lane and clear out the cobwebs crowding my vision, i see only a few things ....
I remember my efforts at cursive writing at my dad's insistence... everyday, for many months on end (or probably even years) i would religiously write the following sentence and i could not stop being amazed at the fact this sentence contained all the letters in the English alphabet... "A quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs".
I remember my visits to the book shops when i would want to buy soooooo many books (books are something i still find hard to resist). My love for stationary is something which is still unabated although the electronics age has diluted my passions. What better smell than that of fresh paper and ink ! What's better than the feel of fresh, crisp sheets of paper. I love the smell of old, hard bound books as well but the fear of the dust (ingrained by the fear of an asthma attack) do curb my adventures amidst piles of old books !
I can still remember those letters which i used to write to my thatha (grandpa) detailing my studies, exams and results. I always used to feel special when i received a reply. Well, it was special because in a big family with nearly a dozen cousins, i was the only grandchild who still wrote letters... He made me feel so special then! With time of course, the letters became far and few till they ultimately stopped and now i don't have him around to write to... I still love writing letters and find them extremely romantic but then the fact is that it is a lost culture now... !!
My brother… he was a source of constant joy as this cherubic, cute little kid. I remember as a 5 year old praying (I was not my thinking self by then !!) for a little brother to play with and finally, I had my bundle of joy when I was seven. He was my dream come true though I didn’t always like him being the centre of attention, my complaints were only with my parents and not with him. I still remember teaching him to walk and talk and write all before time… I couldn’t wait for him to grow up and play with me! By the age of one, I had given a pencil in his hand to try and teach him numbers…. He was and still is the apple of my eye, the witty little one who can keep blabbering for ever mindless of the time or the distances… Love you bro !! :)
Those weekly ice cream parties at home when appa would buy a huge brick of ice cream (once a week or a fortnight) and cut it into 4 and i and my brother would keep eying each others share... :) So much excitement for an ice cream... !! That's problem with growing up... you stop valuing these tiny pleasures that come your way....
Maggi at lunch used to be a feast... :) I remember how much i had to cajole amma to make maggi and not idly or dosa for lunch (sucking in those long, spindly threads was exciting) ... And, now comes a time when maggi is the food for the sick days in the room and a good appam or a dosa seems like such a delight... how much times change... !!
I can't but remember "biscuit aunty", a wonderful malayalee aunty who used to live close by and had an amazing terrace garden... ( i used to envy her gardening skills and i sooo wanted to have a garden in our third floor apartment !! Now, I can only imagine my mom's fear of having a terrace garden in addition to two kids !!! ). I dont know how i came to name her so, but i guess, she was generous with biscuits... !!! :) From my childhood to my teenage tantrums she was there pretty much all through, (as a friend for mom and as my biscuit supplier) however the bonds we shared became weaker as i grew up into more of a rebel than anything else... but i still remember those wonderful words of wisdom she so readily gave.. As a dark, plump, south indian child growing up in Delhi, i was often subjected to taunts like "kaali" (Darkie), "moti" (Fatso), madrasi (Tamilian) etc... (well contrary to the general impression, kids can be quite heartless at times) and then ever so often i remember coming crying to biscuit mami and there she would be, patiently telling me these wonderful things! She would tell me that being dark does not matter because i was fair at heart and that i will be a wonderful person; and that the other kids troubled me because they were jealous of my abilities and so on... and at that time, as a little kid, coming back from a bad day at school, that's all i needed to hear... I think she is one of the reasons for my strong disregard for appearances till date. I learnt early on in life to not judge people and books by the cover and that lesson stays with me still... Some things in life make sense only at a much later time.. :)
I still remember the excitement in the house when appa would be coming back from an official tour... We would clean our places, finish our homework and wait in anticipation for him... What will he get this time used to be question top most in my little mind i think ... I still cherish the mekhla and the beaded necklace that he brought for me from Assam along with the stories of tea estates and the vast greenery (the Darjeeling tea was not high on my priority list then).... or the big can of rasagollas he got from Calcutta (I always had a sweet tooth... inherited it straight from my dad) :) !!
At school, I still remember playing with the boys and beating them at basket ball.... I was a tomboy then and got along famously with the guys in my class... (I guess I still get along well with guys - old habits die hard) :)
There was also this one lesson in school which is imprinted in my head and despite my many attempts i haven't been able to lay my hands on this old text book from school... I remember reading in school this lesson on Dr Marie Curie and her childhood... My memory of the lesson itself is vague and rather fragmentary but i remember the book saying that she as a child would peek into her father's chemical cupboard and be fascinated with chemicals therein. She of course went on to be the first woman to win two Nobel prizes and then it seemed like the most inspiring story to me... In many ways, she made me want to become a scientist (and today while i am close to being one, i also realize that a Nobel is but a dream :))... As a child, Marie Curie was the most inspiring woman and my awe has not worn off even now as an adult... !!!
I once remember appa advising someone on picking out the toughest options to start with, so the rest will end up seeming easy. Picking out the more difficult option does not come easy to us and is in fact a little masochostic but there is a deeper wisdom in the statement that I agree with. I guess, some where along the line, these are the ideas and the ideals that have shaped me into who I am… and now given a choice I wouldn’t change any of it…
Growing up in a traditional, middle class family, i was taught the right values of religion, obedience, academic excellence, propriety, social considerations etc but all i can remember now is rebelling against almost all these values and questioning each one of them in my head. I was a rebel then and i have challenged almost every advice i was preached about... I can only wonder at the plight of my parents then when their teenage daughter questioned why she should go to a temple or care about what any one said... (I am not bohemian or hippie, or a tattoo sporting, rock music loving kind of a rebel, but more of the elitist, intellectual sorts, who wouldn't mind sticking to tradition as long as it is voluntary, out of my own choice and without sermonizing and the usual diktats).
As i sit writing down with these glimpses of the past, I realize that life was so much simpler then.... a simple vanilla ice cream or a maggi or a pack of biscuits used to make my day... and now, i just demand more out of life... Is that why as adults we lose out on happiness... ? Because those small joys in life, those tiny moments of bliss are no longer sufficient... that we want more out of life and that we have a bigger picture in mind... I wish I could think like a little child once again ... have someone tell me the right things to do... just for a day (I know I will not be happy like that for a longer time as i like being an adult but just for a day... :))
I remember my efforts at cursive writing at my dad's insistence... everyday, for many months on end (or probably even years) i would religiously write the following sentence and i could not stop being amazed at the fact this sentence contained all the letters in the English alphabet... "A quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs".
I remember my visits to the book shops when i would want to buy soooooo many books (books are something i still find hard to resist). My love for stationary is something which is still unabated although the electronics age has diluted my passions. What better smell than that of fresh paper and ink ! What's better than the feel of fresh, crisp sheets of paper. I love the smell of old, hard bound books as well but the fear of the dust (ingrained by the fear of an asthma attack) do curb my adventures amidst piles of old books !
I can still remember those letters which i used to write to my thatha (grandpa) detailing my studies, exams and results. I always used to feel special when i received a reply. Well, it was special because in a big family with nearly a dozen cousins, i was the only grandchild who still wrote letters... He made me feel so special then! With time of course, the letters became far and few till they ultimately stopped and now i don't have him around to write to... I still love writing letters and find them extremely romantic but then the fact is that it is a lost culture now... !!
My brother… he was a source of constant joy as this cherubic, cute little kid. I remember as a 5 year old praying (I was not my thinking self by then !!) for a little brother to play with and finally, I had my bundle of joy when I was seven. He was my dream come true though I didn’t always like him being the centre of attention, my complaints were only with my parents and not with him. I still remember teaching him to walk and talk and write all before time… I couldn’t wait for him to grow up and play with me! By the age of one, I had given a pencil in his hand to try and teach him numbers…. He was and still is the apple of my eye, the witty little one who can keep blabbering for ever mindless of the time or the distances… Love you bro !! :)
Those weekly ice cream parties at home when appa would buy a huge brick of ice cream (once a week or a fortnight) and cut it into 4 and i and my brother would keep eying each others share... :) So much excitement for an ice cream... !! That's problem with growing up... you stop valuing these tiny pleasures that come your way....
Maggi at lunch used to be a feast... :) I remember how much i had to cajole amma to make maggi and not idly or dosa for lunch (sucking in those long, spindly threads was exciting) ... And, now comes a time when maggi is the food for the sick days in the room and a good appam or a dosa seems like such a delight... how much times change... !!
I can't but remember "biscuit aunty", a wonderful malayalee aunty who used to live close by and had an amazing terrace garden... ( i used to envy her gardening skills and i sooo wanted to have a garden in our third floor apartment !! Now, I can only imagine my mom's fear of having a terrace garden in addition to two kids !!! ). I dont know how i came to name her so, but i guess, she was generous with biscuits... !!! :) From my childhood to my teenage tantrums she was there pretty much all through, (as a friend for mom and as my biscuit supplier) however the bonds we shared became weaker as i grew up into more of a rebel than anything else... but i still remember those wonderful words of wisdom she so readily gave.. As a dark, plump, south indian child growing up in Delhi, i was often subjected to taunts like "kaali" (Darkie), "moti" (Fatso), madrasi (Tamilian) etc... (well contrary to the general impression, kids can be quite heartless at times) and then ever so often i remember coming crying to biscuit mami and there she would be, patiently telling me these wonderful things! She would tell me that being dark does not matter because i was fair at heart and that i will be a wonderful person; and that the other kids troubled me because they were jealous of my abilities and so on... and at that time, as a little kid, coming back from a bad day at school, that's all i needed to hear... I think she is one of the reasons for my strong disregard for appearances till date. I learnt early on in life to not judge people and books by the cover and that lesson stays with me still... Some things in life make sense only at a much later time.. :)
I still remember the excitement in the house when appa would be coming back from an official tour... We would clean our places, finish our homework and wait in anticipation for him... What will he get this time used to be question top most in my little mind i think ... I still cherish the mekhla and the beaded necklace that he brought for me from Assam along with the stories of tea estates and the vast greenery (the Darjeeling tea was not high on my priority list then).... or the big can of rasagollas he got from Calcutta (I always had a sweet tooth... inherited it straight from my dad) :) !!
At school, I still remember playing with the boys and beating them at basket ball.... I was a tomboy then and got along famously with the guys in my class... (I guess I still get along well with guys - old habits die hard) :)
There was also this one lesson in school which is imprinted in my head and despite my many attempts i haven't been able to lay my hands on this old text book from school... I remember reading in school this lesson on Dr Marie Curie and her childhood... My memory of the lesson itself is vague and rather fragmentary but i remember the book saying that she as a child would peek into her father's chemical cupboard and be fascinated with chemicals therein. She of course went on to be the first woman to win two Nobel prizes and then it seemed like the most inspiring story to me... In many ways, she made me want to become a scientist (and today while i am close to being one, i also realize that a Nobel is but a dream :))... As a child, Marie Curie was the most inspiring woman and my awe has not worn off even now as an adult... !!!
I once remember appa advising someone on picking out the toughest options to start with, so the rest will end up seeming easy. Picking out the more difficult option does not come easy to us and is in fact a little masochostic but there is a deeper wisdom in the statement that I agree with. I guess, some where along the line, these are the ideas and the ideals that have shaped me into who I am… and now given a choice I wouldn’t change any of it…
Growing up in a traditional, middle class family, i was taught the right values of religion, obedience, academic excellence, propriety, social considerations etc but all i can remember now is rebelling against almost all these values and questioning each one of them in my head. I was a rebel then and i have challenged almost every advice i was preached about... I can only wonder at the plight of my parents then when their teenage daughter questioned why she should go to a temple or care about what any one said... (I am not bohemian or hippie, or a tattoo sporting, rock music loving kind of a rebel, but more of the elitist, intellectual sorts, who wouldn't mind sticking to tradition as long as it is voluntary, out of my own choice and without sermonizing and the usual diktats).
As i sit writing down with these glimpses of the past, I realize that life was so much simpler then.... a simple vanilla ice cream or a maggi or a pack of biscuits used to make my day... and now, i just demand more out of life... Is that why as adults we lose out on happiness... ? Because those small joys in life, those tiny moments of bliss are no longer sufficient... that we want more out of life and that we have a bigger picture in mind... I wish I could think like a little child once again ... have someone tell me the right things to do... just for a day (I know I will not be happy like that for a longer time as i like being an adult but just for a day... :))
1 comment:
Hi Suvasini, I just realized that you've been following my blog. Thanks!
You have plenty of interesting thoughts on topics that I too have been thinking and writing about. Nice to meet someone with a similar thought process. I can well relate to your post on childhood and simple pleasures!
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