I had just cleared class II. Bursting with pride, I had to tell it to Maa a.s.a.p. But school would officially get over three hours later. What to do? Home was not very far away, I knew the way, if I went home now, I could show the result to her in about 15 minutes. But I knew, she would not want me to go home alone; I had heard earfuls on the dangers lurking in all corners for the pretty girls. What the heck, I could always fabricate something. So I walked home, me and my school bag, crossing the streets of Sardarpura, Jodhpur, facing the traffic, all of 2 km.
Reached home quickly enough. After the result euphoria was over, came the expected question, how did you come so early? A born fibber, I gave the name of a remote neighbour who seldom came to visit us, saying he dropped me. Matter closed. There was a vague question around why didn’t he come up, which I quickly thwarted.
My bad luck, the same neighbour turned up a couple of hours later. His son had also scored a good result and he was bursting with pride to share with the world. धरती नही फटी, आसमान नही टूटा। Maa thanked him for dropping me, he was smart, figured it out, he looked at me and said, Oh that is nothing, and gave me a conspiratorial winky smile. That uncle-who-came-less-frequently became my best friend that day.
After school, the evergreen pastime of 70’s for us middle class kids was playing लँगड़ी टाँग with the colony kids who had nothing better to do than indulge me. Every day, without fail, I had to play till it was dark. The neighborhood uncles and aunts looked down their noses on my गुंडा behaviour and sternly told my parents, giving examples of their meek daughters, see, how quietly they sit at home and learn to sew (which thankfully Maa was not quite adept at, hence never asked me to). She was thoroughly amused by the vision of a possible docile daughter. So, one fine day, she told me, today you are not going to play with the boys, sit at home like a girl. I fell from the seventh heaven, what happened to my docile Maa, आप तो ऐसे न थे? I begged, cried, please, I have to go; my friends are waiting. But she was determined. Finally, when all means of persuasion failed, I fell on her feet (actually) and begged her to let me go, today is the last day of my happiness, I am ready to stay a prisoner for the rest of my childhood. She just laughed her hyena laugh (at least that is what It felt that time) and said No. To hell with all niceties, I got up, opened the front door and walked out to play. Will worry about her anger after four hours.
Thankfully by the time I came back home, there were more important matters of congress politics being discussed and my unladylike, non-docile antic was forgotten and hopefully forgiven. As a wise man once said, I too said nothing.
I was an avid high jumper. Would play in school, at district level and state level, and at home, on my roof with the parapet and street view. On hot Sunday afternoons, when everyone in the city would be having their afternoon siesta, I would be out on the roof, despite loo warnings, my frock tucked at my waist and jumping over a wire tied from the parapet to the door at my shoulder level. And one day I fell. Wham on my forearm. Maa shouted from inside- what happened? I was quite prompt to say nothing, as my arm swelled. Next whole week I had to wear full-sleeved dresses that I normally reserved for winter, as I had to hide the discovery of my sprained arm. Else my afternoon activity would be limited to sombrely lie on bed and rest like normal girly girls. The harmed arm was never discovered, she was quite gullible that way.
You must know by now that I strictly don’t follow rules and always do what I am told not to. I recollect an example from school time where I persuaded a class full of strong minded 50 girls to bunk school and watch a movie in the theatre Minerva. Trust me, we all walked in our uniforms from the Saint Patricks Vidya Bhawan, in a single file, to the theatre, where I collected money from everyone, bought the tickets and we watched “Masoom”. We cried in the movie and we cried after coming back to school in anticipation of the punishment. The school principal stood in front of the entire class (with everyone looking intently at their dirty shoes) and asked sternly- whose idea was it? Tell me else the entire class is going to be punished. It was a matter of the principal and my principles. I stood up and owned up the mischievous misdeed. Well, she forgave me, told me never to do it again, and I could see a smile lurking at the corner of her lips which she tried to hide in vain.
I spent a lot of time worrying my teachers to death, being a brighter student made them forgive me, but that didn’t mean they liked me. Eating the tiffin in class, drawing cartoons of teachers, passing notes were some of the common ones. When utterly frustrated with me, they resorted to the age-old techniques of “Go stand outside the class”, assuming that was a punishment, and we would giggle and leave happily. Me and my bestie would stand on either side of the door and roll on the floor laughing at our own silly wit, though sobered up enough to say the customary sorry when the teacher exited.
How I miss my childhood and ability to play truant without a care in the world!
myhumerousbone 