While Growing up...

Do you remember what you used to do when you were a kid? The childhood days are the most endeared ones. Whom so ever I know wants to go back to his/her childhood. Imagine how wonderful it would be to relive those moments. Just remembering those mischief(s) you had been involved in with your sibling(s), brings a smile.

When I was a toddler, dad and mom used to take me to movies with them. My dad would buy me popcorn and I would sit on the stairs near my parent’s row of seats and would be munching my popcorns. As soon as I used to finish, I would go to my parents and ask them if we could go home. My dad would give me something toys to play with and I would go back to the stairs, sit and start playing. Again after sometime I would be ready to go home. My mother would then give me some candies and the series of events would repeat. They would be thinking of ideas to keep me busy so that they could watch the movie. Finally they decided not to go for movies till I grow a little.

I used to be the most lovable toddler in my neighborhood. The other kids used to like me a lot. Whenever my mom would carry me outside, the other kids would come to play with me. I used to see all other kids of the neighborhood going to school. Since I was the only one not going to school that time, I would start howling after our neighbors’ kids would leave for school. I would start showing tantrums and not-eating-anything syndrome. So my father would carry me with a small bag in his scooter for a short ride and drop me home before he used to leave for the hospital. I would be very happy and when the other kids would come back from school, I would tell them, with my funny little vocabulary those days, how I went to school that day.

My mother tells me of one incident which, however, I vaguely remember. I had not started school yet, I was on the verge of starting school. My mother used to be associated with different social working organizations. It was a children’s day and some group had organized an event for a Poem Recitation competition for children under 14 years. My mother was one of the judges. I was sitting near my mother watching the participants coming to the stage one by one and speaking on the microphone. Suddenly I realized, I had to recite a poem too. And I started troubling my mother. Seeing that, one of the organizers, just for fun, took me to the stage, announced my name, and gave me the microphone. I sang a nursery rhyme. After that everyone applauded. I was so pleased to see everyone clapping that I said I wanted to sing another. They allowed me to sing another of my rhymes and they clapped again. I was so elated and obviously, I wanted to sing another. The organizers had to lure me with chocolates and candies to end my never ending saga of nursery rhymes.

When I had first joined school, my childhood friend, Meenakshi, was also with me. We were family friends so had known each other since our birth. We saw that every other kid is weeping. When our parents left, our teacher had a difficult time trying to stop the tears of those kids. Meenakshi and I had our own plans to help our teacher. During lunch break, all our small friends were still weeping. Meenakshi and I caught hold of the kids and started hitting them. If they would cry more, we will beat them more. And our little friends were horrified to howl the next day but Meenakshi and I were called to the Principal’s office. The principal was an old person nearing his retirement. As soon as we entered his room and saw him, Meenakshi ran to him calling him grandpa. I thought he was her real grandpa, so I also ran to him calling him grandpa. After that I only remember him feeding us chocolates. I don’t remember much but my mother tells me, Meenakshi and my parents got lots of complaints against us.

I was sent to learn classical music at the same time I started my school. I remember I would be asked to practice but I would be sitting in front of the harmonium with a big pouting face. Then all of a sudden, my mother would start singing off key. Listening to her, I would start singing to correct her and that’s how my mom would trick me to practice. My dad used to drop me at the music teacher’s place every Saturday after school. That lady was old and used to wear big fat glasses; I used to call her grandma. She used to give me music lessons and I used to be peeping at the wall clock all the while. As soon as the class would be over, I used to run outside to see if my dad had returned to fetch me. If I would not see my dad waiting outside, I would start crying thinking what might happen if he forgets to pick me up today. Many a times, my music teacher’s husband would drop me home as I would not stop crying whenever my dad, being a busy doctor, was late. My parents would be so embarrassed with my dramatic fiasco. My dad would warn me not to repeat the same episode of last week before he used to drop me at her place next Saturday. I would be extra careful that day particularly not to weep even if my dad would be a little late. But I would forget that little warning again on Saturdays that would come later.

But at the same time, my dance classes were a different story altogether. I used to go to those classes with my best friend, Kavya, on Sunday mornings.  Either her father or my father would drop us and pick us up from the Dance school every week. Some days they might be late, and both of us would wait for some time. Then we would decide to head back home by foot and to everyone’s surprise, we would take the road which we used to know that our fathers do not take. We would take some twists and turns and take the roads where four wheelers could not go so as to shorten our trip. And by the time, we would reach home, search operations would have been started already. We would be scolded and would be warned not to do that again. But to our parents’ horror, we would repeat our escapade some days later. 

When my younger sister was born, I was very enthusiastic about the idea of showing her to the world. I remember whenever someone would visit to see her, my mother would carry her in her arms and show her to neighbors, visitors and family members. So, I thought you need to show her to people. That morning some friend of the family had arrived, and my mother was taking bath. I thought in her absence, I needed to show my sister to the visitor. So, I lifted her in my tiny arms with all her baby cot and blanket and stood smiling in front of the bathroom door. My mother opened the door and saw us. If she would have shouted, I guess I would have dropped her. I excitedly told my mother about the visitor and how I wanted to help my mother. My mother simply smiled and appreciated my thought and slowly took my sister from my arms. I was so proud of the fact that I could lift the baby and felt that I have grown up. Whenever I think about that day now, I get goose bumps.

When I am writing this article, I can’t stop myself sharing this incident. My sister had just started her school. We had gone to a birthday party of a one year old, who was the younger brother of one of her schoolmates. After we returned home, she started opening wardrobes after wardrobes. My mother asked her what was she looking for to which she replied she was searching for batteries because at her schoolmate’s house she had seen a doll kicking and moving his limbs so she also wanted to insert batteries into her dolls. She was so innocent and cute. And I can’t imagine that she is now married and runs a house.

I always used to tease my younger sister that we had brought her from a nearby dustbin. She used to be very upset with the idea. When she did her blood grouping test, it came out that we both sisters have the same blood group. I remember the day, when her blood group results have come. She had entered the house with my dad, and she had come running to me and had told me, “You know I came to know today that you were also brought from the same dustbin exactly four and a half years ago before I was brought home”. I understood straight away what she meant but my parents were confused and were looking baffled at our nonsense talk. 

I had been involved in many mischiefs in childhood along with my sister. However, we enjoy being mischievous even now. Actually, it was me who would involve her so that she doesn’t tell anything to mom and dad. Trust me; she was very bad in keeping secrets that time. We would plan a surprise gift for mom or dad on their birthday or anniversary and she would go to my mom and say, “Ma, do you know, what are we planning for your birthday? Well, I can’t tell you about the card we have prepared for you”.

My sister has stood by me many a times. The vice versa is also true, of course. But, the bond between siblings does come with its share of sibling rivalry, too. I realize that I used to be meaning to my younger sister some of the times. My mother would give us chocolate bars of equal sizes. I would eat some and then hide it somewhere. After my sister would finish hers, I would again start eating and tell her, mom loved me more so she had given me a bigger share and she would start crying. After some time, I would myself tell her the truth. Whenever I had to go to some of my friend’s birthday party, I would be asked to take her with me. I used to be very upset with that idea. On the way to my friend’s house, I would be walking fast thinking that if she can’t measure up to me she would go back home. But some time later she would start crying because she couldn’t walk fast and she was behind me. I would be scared that somebody might kidnap her, and I would go running back to her and cajole her so that she stops crying and finally, I would take her to my friend’s house happily.

We used to quarrel a lot, too. We will be shouting at each other and will be hitting each other. We will be asked to go to separate rooms after that and we will be asked not to speak to each other. Just after ten or fifteen minutes, both of us will silently meet when our parents are not looking and start talking and planning another mischief as if nothing had happened earlier. And mom and dad would feel they were the culprits to separate the inseparable sisters. J

During festivals or some occasions, my mother would prepare delicacies and would store them in different jars. And on Sundays when mom would be taking her nap, I would be stealing them from those jars. I would force my sister to eat even if she didn’t like so that she could not tell mom as partners in crime tend to stick together. Sometimes my mom would hide those jars but somehow we two sisters would know where to find them. We would become Sherlock Homes, and Agatha Kristie; merged into one.

Well, the list goes on and on. And time just flies. I would love to go back to those days. Thinking about those days not only makes me smile but also brings back to life the child still inside me. You could have taken my childhood away from me but you could not take the child out of me. These memories would last with me till my last breathe. And, also am ensuring that it has been documented.