'Back when I was four'

From the albums

Nostalgic thoughts are pleasantries to muse over. They never fade away with time; instead linger afresh, in particular, the childhood memories. We used to stay on Nanje Gowda Street — a cross road of Kurumbigal Road.  Lalbagh was situated right across the street as though it was an extension of our house itself. As a result, Lalbagh became a cliché for studies, play and stroll  — synonymous to all activities. Consequently, I had a feeling that several of the tall and huge trees, the bushes, the lake, Glass House, Lotus Pond, and every pathway, which leads to these spots, recognise me.

In fact, in the backdrop of the photograph is a statue of Sri Chamrajendra Wodeyar, former ruler of Mysore, with two ladies sitting on both sides, underneath the statue. On one side is the figure of justice and on the other, the figure representing knowledge. The square had four angels in the four corners. Each one had a different story connected to it. The tall tree in the picture stands no more. It fell off after lightning struck. I remember very clearly that there was a huge gathering  assembled to witness the pathetic scene. Each one was narrating a story of his own connected to it and they were so sad as though they were there to pay homage to the fallen tree.

It is hard to recollect whether I have ever entered Lalbagh through the gate as we used to resort to short cuts either through the vertical steel rods of fence or jumping the broken compound wall. During rains, the Lalbagh Lake used to overflow. Along the water, fishes flowed out. It used to be a feast for those who were staying on the cross roads of Kurumbigal Road.

The elders and the children, alike, with towels or a piece of cloth in hand used to catch fish and I was not an exception. More than fishing, we used to play for hours together. The enjoyment I used to derive was more than that of rafting in Kulu Manali or visiting Kutta in Madikere.

Many a time, we use to play on the Kurumbigal Road and our elders never used to object to our playing on the main road, except during evenings when the HAL buses use to ply. The traffic never used to be as it is today. Now, when I pass by Kurumbigal Road, it aches to see the pathetic condition of the cross roads, the triangular park is in a desolate condition owing to poor maintenance. Revival of the good old days has remained restricted to past memories and memories are confined to albums.