I
was born and raised in a tension free era. No running after school bus or
gobbling breakfast; my morning musings were chirpings of birds, sounds of
fluttering leaves, chanting of ‘karaagre vasate Lakshmi…’, the faint singing of
the lady milking the cow- all rustic rhythms. I grew up in the calm and cool
sleepy village- fearless, dare to experiment with new ideas, sometimes
rebellious with never to give up attitude.
When
I was in school I didn’t have restrictions or objections playing with boys. We
were a gang of three girls and five boys. I was the oldest of girls (I was in
class 6) and Murthy was the oldest of the boys (he was in class 9). Soon after
the school we were playing in the fields running along the path between the
sugarcane fields, playing hide and seek in palm groves. There was a huge
tamarind tree at the far back of our house. We were scared to go near the tree-
there was an unusual aroma around during the day, the monstrous shades of its
branches at late evenings scared us. But, truly, the swaying tree branches
inspired me; it aroused the burning desire of the swing- going up till the sky,
then come down to touch the ground only to push it higher. I had seen the film
heroine doing this and wanted the same experience.
We
lived in a ‘vathara’ (cluster of small independent houses with common front and
backyard). We had a jasmine plant right in front of my house. The jasmine
creeper was quite grown up, the branches tangled and twined with each other to
form a strong knitted flat swing. Every evening I and another girl used to
climb on to the jasmine swing, pluck jasmine buds, sing, and sway. Wow!! What a
wonderful experience it was!! My desire to swing high was on fire!!
I
had a secret meeting with Murthy to plan a big swing. I explained the complete
plan- a wooden swing tied to a branch of the tree!! I graphically described how
we tie the swing to the branch, make others sit in the center of the swing and
each of us stand on either side of the swing facing each other, hold the rope
in both hands and push the swing with feet. He was little scared. ‘Nooo…’, he
said. I told him to be brave as he was a boy! We needed a long and little wide
wooden plank and a thick rope. Where to get? When I told him ‘where and how’,
he screamed. Again I had to remind him that he was a boy, as brave as me!! He
teased me, ‘Oho! You are Jhansi Rani!’
Those
days well water was the only source of fresh water for us. We had not seen taps
at all. Women of our ‘vathara’ drew water from a nearby well off the backyard.
Every house had a rope. The rope used to be on the pulley of the well from
morning six to evening six. I knew this. There was a carpentry workshop a
little away from my house. Murthy knew this. We decided to steal rope and
wooden plank!! I was thrilled!!! Daytime theft!! I decided to take a
trustworthy girl from our gang to assist me. We waited for the women to leave
the place with their filled metal pots. “What are you doing here Lakshmi?”
Nanjamma, Murthy’s mom, yelled at me. ‘Playing hide and seek, atthe’, I grinned.
(‘Atthe’ in Kannada means aunt; we used to fondly call neighboring ladies
‘atthe’ and men ‘maava’. No uncle-aunty
business!). She didn’t appear convinced
by my reply. She was turning back and watching us with spying eyes. ‘What hiding
and what seeking she doesn’t know’, the girl with me smiled with a wink in her eye.
Finally
the much awaited moment came. Quickly I ran towards the well, released the rope
from the pulley, clumsily folded it and rushed to the tree without forgetting
to take the one that I had taken from my home and hid near the bush. Murthy was
waiting with the wooden plank. He had brought another boy of his class to help
him. We tied the ropes on both the sides of the plank and the edges on to the
tree branch. Swing was ready. Every evening we enjoyed the swing. My joy knew
no bounds. This went on for a month or so. One fine day the already worn out
rope gave in. Murthy fell down and was hurt badly, the plank tilted the
children slid and fell; I held the edge of the plank for some time and fell
down. Thank god!!!
The
dry paddy and sugarcane grass spread below saved us from injury. Nanjammatthe
blamed me for everything; told that Murthy couldn’t do all that and advised my
mom to have an eye on her daughter.
Don’t
know where Murthy is today. But I remember our adventure and laugh, miss those
days. My sympathies with today’s children. Their childhood is lost somewhere,
minds are conditioned, and their thinking is narrowed down only to their
studies. If left free to think independently, children fantasize and imagine. Children
these days are hooked by mass media at an early age. Their fantasies are ready-made
fantasies of TV, sold fantasies and fake ones, not their own. There is a close
connection between childhood imagination and adult passion. A happy child grows
into a happy adult, sees beauty everywhere, and respects life as a gift of God.
