I happened to visit the place where I lived from 1989 to 1995. It was a chance encounter, the visit I mean. I didn’t plan it. I was passing by that lane, and almost impulsively, I took a left turn instead of going straight.
I don’t know about other people, but I can recall my childhood pretty vividly. The labyrinthine lanes seemed so pregnant with past. So much so that it almost gave me goose bumps and involuntarily, I started returning. I had to coerce myself not to. The lanes had a proper road with tar and all [as opposed to the bricks which they used to have previously]. They were so not the same as they used to be, and yet I had a striking familiarity with them. It also reminded me of all of the childhood friends which I had. I lost touch with them as soon as I left that place, and I’ve no idea of even their physical appearance now. I don’t think I’d be able to recognize them with their face anymore. Just a moment, I think I should name them all here. Who knows one of them might see this and get in touch. The names are [as much chronological as possible]- Mohit, Golu, Ekta, Ashu, Nishu, Chhotu, Betu, Prateek, Little, Mini, Garima. This is pretty much it. I really don’t know their proper names, so pardon me for that. The dusty ‘park’ where we used to ‘play’ now has a 4 storey house.
Then I saw the home where I used to live when I didn’t go to school. Astonishingly, it was still the very same! Superficially, nothing had changed there. That was some sight. Plastic Ball Cricket, the first day at school, my thumb nail getting squished, getting drenched in rain, bathing in sun light during winters, the doordarshan, death of Rajiv Gandhi.. these are some of the things which I remember with utmost clarity. My reading habit started from the newspaper report of assassination of Rajiv Gandhi. It was such sensational news of its time that I thought, damn.. only if I could read and understand everything written on that boring and awkwardly ‘huge’ newspaper. [No, the newspapers didn’t use to be any bigger than they’re now, but I was too small for them :P].
Our landlord, Gupta ji [who was almost a grandfather figure to me] is no more. The name plate was engraved with the dreaded letters LATE. I think I felt a lump in throat for no good reason.
I never knew I’d be so connected with my past, but as it turns out.. Apparently, I am. And much later, I realized that this what I’ve been wanting to do for quite sometime now. Sometimes, living in past is not such a bad idea at all.
well no one can beat this, my past is very much connected to present. As a teen i used to think every damn person arund me has changed their home or school atleast once in their life and here i am who has always lived in one house, been to one school and one college…it seemed to me as if my poor life is devoid of all the excitement.
to think of it now, i guess i am too lucky to be living in this house for past 21yrs and lucky to know every damn person in my school…to have grown up with familiar faces around me…the sense of security that u get out of all this.
buut now i feel that its going to be quite difficult for me to shift to a new place…i ll miss my bed…the awkward mattress…and wt not!
btw i’m curious to know how exactly u used to call the little …i mean in hindi…y dint u write chhota instead???
@ kritikamattoo
Well, everything has it’s own pros and cons. It won’t be difficult now coz you’re not a kid anymore. It’d had been much more difficult had this transition occurred at some early point in your life. And the mattress, it’s not awkward. It’s unique! 😛
Uska naam ‘Little’ hi tha. Although, he was soo not little! 😀
They were christians I suppose. His sister was Mini and he was Little. Some names they had!
came here through your twitter handle..nice nostalgic post..will be here more frequently!!
hey you…i suddenly feel compelled to leave a comment on this one…. like kritika i grew up in a one place….with familiar faces, growing older with me… somehow i feel that this is one of the reasons that i dont remember much of my childhood, whenever i try only photographs which my parents took flash in my mind… i feel this sense of deprivation….i dont have a first childhood memory, i dont remember the toys i had, i cant relate to the stories my sister recalls with amazing clarity…the memories i have start from age 3-4 and up….even that am not sure of….it also maybe because my childhood wasnt exciting enough…or maybe i dont have sharp memory which i highly doubt!!
whatever the case maybe i have feel so sad when i dont have stories to tell share about my mischiefs or the silly things i did as a kid….there’s nothing but the photographs of the past….
and i guess this is one reason i have this urge to capture everything in my phone or camera(which i am ususally too lazy to do)…what if, just what if i dont remember stuff when i get older….