There is one school of thoughts which always associates bachpan with fun and frolic playing hide and seek ---eating sweets icecreams etc---all in all having fun .
Then there is another which tells us about the deprived children and how they have to slog for their daily bread ,go through maltreatment and abuse at the hands of drunkard fathers,step mothers and all that ---all in all sadnesss galore a great tear jerkar.---this includes the slumdog kinds too.
Two extremes--but here's my bachpan --and the middle path it followed .
My father was a mines manager and lived in the interiors (jungles of madhya pradesh and maharashtra )so we either went to a hostel or to our grandparents for our education .I was sent to my nanaji's gaurdianship ---a true disciplinarian --- who saw to my studies ,and to my diet personally.
NOthing very sad but quite torturous --cows milk ,chyawanprash ugh !! and for every mistake I made he would make me rub my nose on the wall .
Never let me use the eraser so that even the smallest mistake boasted itself prominently on my notebook.and then that punishment. though it did help me never to repeat the mistake.
He even made me skip the rope 100 times every evening(health conscious) .
I happened to be the eldest of all the children in my joint family so whenever a new member of the clan joined school I was made to be their local guardian --imagine 9 years old myself had to take their responsibilities they commited mistakes and I was called up by mother superior-- worst was I had two uncles who were younger to me ; when I was in class 2 they were in KG1 and KG2 respectively and I had to address them as "mama' relations had their own sanctity those days --and I was their local guardian too in school.--I am sure you people must have by now started sympathising with me .
Then it was my brothers turn to join me in Nanaji's house and thank GOD he just wouldn't tolerate the patriarch's dominating ways so my parents shifted us to a hostel ---
But here too I was elder and he the younger so I was found shedding tears when he got the caining
Then there is another which tells us about the deprived children and how they have to slog for their daily bread ,go through maltreatment and abuse at the hands of drunkard fathers,step mothers and all that ---all in all sadnesss galore a great tear jerkar.---this includes the slumdog kinds too.
Two extremes--but here's my bachpan --and the middle path it followed .
My father was a mines manager and lived in the interiors (jungles of madhya pradesh and maharashtra )so we either went to a hostel or to our grandparents for our education .I was sent to my nanaji's gaurdianship ---a true disciplinarian --- who saw to my studies ,and to my diet personally.
NOthing very sad but quite torturous --cows milk ,chyawanprash ugh !! and for every mistake I made he would make me rub my nose on the wall .
Never let me use the eraser so that even the smallest mistake boasted itself prominently on my notebook.and then that punishment. though it did help me never to repeat the mistake.
He even made me skip the rope 100 times every evening(health conscious) .
I happened to be the eldest of all the children in my joint family so whenever a new member of the clan joined school I was made to be their local guardian --imagine 9 years old myself had to take their responsibilities they commited mistakes and I was called up by mother superior-- worst was I had two uncles who were younger to me ; when I was in class 2 they were in KG1 and KG2 respectively and I had to address them as "mama' relations had their own sanctity those days --and I was their local guardian too in school.--I am sure you people must have by now started sympathising with me .
Then it was my brothers turn to join me in Nanaji's house and thank GOD he just wouldn't tolerate the patriarch's dominating ways so my parents shifted us to a hostel ---
But here too I was elder and he the younger so I was found shedding tears when he got the caining
One nice thing about my Grandpas house was that My granny did not allow non veg food to be cooked in the regular kitchen so that other "" kitchen ""used was like a temple to us "when will its doors open?" specially for eggs Oh what a delicacy
Tell you something though my nani did not eat eggs but she was the one who bought them she had one ABBU Mia who would come with eggs in a basket and then nani would sit on a chair: one of us kids would go and bring 2 bowls , one filled with water and Abbu mia would dip each egg in the water the ones which sank were the good ones and we would put them in the other bowl . We loved doing this job handling each egg lovingly .
Tell you something though my nani did not eat eggs but she was the one who bought them she had one ABBU Mia who would come with eggs in a basket and then nani would sit on a chair: one of us kids would go and bring 2 bowls , one filled with water and Abbu mia would dip each egg in the water the ones which sank were the good ones and we would put them in the other bowl . We loved doing this job handling each egg lovingly .
Then the time to eat those eggs --hmmm --heavenly !! the aroma still wafts whenever I think of those days .
Eggs never tasted so nice ever after ---
Then my dad got transfered to the headoffice and we shifted to a house-- the family together .
This was the time I was in the 9th standard and life had become lovely --7.45 am I would be ready for school and sit in front of the radio scribbling down in my 400 hundred pages note book what talat mahmood was singing My mother saw to it that no one disturbed me at that time .Then 8 am just as K L saigal started his song we knew we should be out of the house else we may be late for school.
We went to school on bycycles the whole lot of us and all the passers by knew us and we knew them because we were regulars on the road .and if any one of us did not cross the other at the same place everyday it meant we were either late or early.
In school I used to be a great singer and also a storyteller --would tell the girls stories of movies complete with songs
Then Hockey: in the beginning I tried to avoid but Mrs Joseph our senior teacher knew I had the makings of a great goal keeper and she ignored all my tears.Am I gratefull ?YES.
I am also gratefull to her for pushing me on the stage and making me a good artist .
so these are my Bachpan ki yadein .
iske baad toh college "" woh kissa phir kabhi
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