<p>They term them stress busters and attention-assistive devices; these colourful fancy geometric shaped thingamajigs being twirled straight to your face at your car window by hopeful sellers at every traffic jam or junction! Priced, I understand, from a mere Rs 40 to thousands of dollars and crafted in silver, gold and precious metals beyond, they are purveyed in glitzy boutiques as well to the rich and famous as ‘nerve calmers.’ But all I know is that a couple of glances at these ‘money spinning marvels’ sends me into a tizzy,<br /><br />An enigma therefore is, what is so enchanting about them in comparison with those graceful wooden tops from six decades ago, probably crafted by nearby Channapatna artisans instead of today’s Chinese plastic influx? Usurping the top, which called for practice to learn the nuances of control, why is the rage now the finger spinner which requires just a little pressure to make it whirl. What’s in it that’s touted as therapeutic?<br /><br />Learning how to spin entailed patience. Firstly, it was an art to wind all around it precisely so a jathi (thick twine) that would not slip out of place, and second, making that crucial flick of the wrist while simultaneously releasing the top from jathi to land it on the ground, while spinning on the point of the nail embedded in it. Somewhat akin I reckon to a cricket bowler’s ‘twist and toss’ action, requiring similar accuracy.<br /><br />It was my mum who taught my two elder brothers and me to spin tops, fly kites and aim marbles. Somewhere along the way, we even learned to make our own manja — grinding glass shards and mixing them with glue into the twine — all for that extra kite bite! Those were among the ‘done pursuits’ imbibed during our childhood in the fifties. It took immense concentration to fine tune these arts, this included many tears on my part when I was teased for my lack of ability to match the boys. I persevered nevertheless, with mum encouraging me.<br /><br />Playing with tops was so exciting, and once one mastered sharpening the point of the nail embedded in it, it was time to compete in attacking games, like hitting someone else’s spinning top with yours, and making what we used to term ‘a gunj’ or a dent in it! A perfect aim to hit the target, like in marbles, was the key to victory. One lamented as the nails wore thin and the gunjes increased, sometimes even splitting the wooden top, as parting with possessions in those days was not easy. But it led to being hailed a hero if your top ‘gunjed’ others more than it got…<br /><br />Our fancies for these games were not short-lived pastimes like the attractions today which are discarded tomorrow. We enjoyed simple pleasures with our companions and made do with what we had for as long as we could, and were taught not to compare but instead to share. These games and plenty of others that needed imagination but no investment, dealt with the stresses in us. As for deficit attention, I remember patient teachers and loving parents taking out time to pay heed to our need for a bit more help with tasks that troubled us, including schoolwork.</p>
<p>They term them stress busters and attention-assistive devices; these colourful fancy geometric shaped thingamajigs being twirled straight to your face at your car window by hopeful sellers at every traffic jam or junction! Priced, I understand, from a mere Rs 40 to thousands of dollars and crafted in silver, gold and precious metals beyond, they are purveyed in glitzy boutiques as well to the rich and famous as ‘nerve calmers.’ But all I know is that a couple of glances at these ‘money spinning marvels’ sends me into a tizzy,<br /><br />An enigma therefore is, what is so enchanting about them in comparison with those graceful wooden tops from six decades ago, probably crafted by nearby Channapatna artisans instead of today’s Chinese plastic influx? Usurping the top, which called for practice to learn the nuances of control, why is the rage now the finger spinner which requires just a little pressure to make it whirl. What’s in it that’s touted as therapeutic?<br /><br />Learning how to spin entailed patience. Firstly, it was an art to wind all around it precisely so a jathi (thick twine) that would not slip out of place, and second, making that crucial flick of the wrist while simultaneously releasing the top from jathi to land it on the ground, while spinning on the point of the nail embedded in it. Somewhat akin I reckon to a cricket bowler’s ‘twist and toss’ action, requiring similar accuracy.<br /><br />It was my mum who taught my two elder brothers and me to spin tops, fly kites and aim marbles. Somewhere along the way, we even learned to make our own manja — grinding glass shards and mixing them with glue into the twine — all for that extra kite bite! Those were among the ‘done pursuits’ imbibed during our childhood in the fifties. It took immense concentration to fine tune these arts, this included many tears on my part when I was teased for my lack of ability to match the boys. I persevered nevertheless, with mum encouraging me.<br /><br />Playing with tops was so exciting, and once one mastered sharpening the point of the nail embedded in it, it was time to compete in attacking games, like hitting someone else’s spinning top with yours, and making what we used to term ‘a gunj’ or a dent in it! A perfect aim to hit the target, like in marbles, was the key to victory. One lamented as the nails wore thin and the gunjes increased, sometimes even splitting the wooden top, as parting with possessions in those days was not easy. But it led to being hailed a hero if your top ‘gunjed’ others more than it got…<br /><br />Our fancies for these games were not short-lived pastimes like the attractions today which are discarded tomorrow. We enjoyed simple pleasures with our companions and made do with what we had for as long as we could, and were taught not to compare but instead to share. These games and plenty of others that needed imagination but no investment, dealt with the stresses in us. As for deficit attention, I remember patient teachers and loving parents taking out time to pay heed to our need for a bit more help with tasks that troubled us, including schoolwork.</p>
