Joy amidst the daily tumble

As children growing up in the rough and tumble of a large household in a bustling metropolis, life was crowded with incidents. We were woken up early in the morning, spruced up, fed, clothed, and sent to school. The street we had to traverse was large and broad and formed part of the famed Grand Trunk Road running through Calcutta (now Kolkata), with lorries and buses and occasional cars trundling down the street, hedged in by narrow houses that stood cheek by jowl with old dilapidated mansions. There were no footpaths, and we managed to keep to the long and narrow stretch meant for pedestrians with those huge, noisy vehicles whizzing past at breakneck pace. A scene that most modern parents would baulk at sending their progeny down that street, but our parents with no options sent us out with hearts of steel and nerves of titanium on a wing and a prayer.

We, of course, enjoyed the walk, revelling in the marvels of the street, and friends joined us on the way, and before we knew it, we were through the 2-km stretch and found ourselves at the iron gates that delivered us into the school. We joined the long lines for the customary prayer before being herded into different classes. The teachers were in charge; we tried to pay attention and learnt the fundamentals, the occasional prank that incensed the teachers, but added to the excitement of school life.

There were sports events, concerts, and interschool tournaments that pepped up our young lives. The green lawns of our school, ringed by tall trees of jamun, silk cotton, and mango, held our fascination, and in the sun-spangled afternoons of childhood, away from the prying eyes of teachers, we would be seen perched precariously on their branches, feeling on top of the world and its ills. The trailing bougainvillaea on the walls, beds of sunflowers and chrysanthemums, together with the sprinklers and lawn mowers doing their job faithfully, added lustre to our young lives as the breeze ruffled our hair and the grass. We talked to our heart’s content, revelling in the sheer joy of words.

Examinations were a necessary evil; report cards sometimes told sad stories evoking reprimands from teachers and parents. Sometimes they were a cause for elation too. We put it down to the vagaries of examinations, the whims of teachers, and divine dispensation. Lunches were communal, shared with “Grace,” and we lived collective lives in a sense of unity amidst the diversity with undiluted happiness. Before long the idyll came to an end, and we shifted into the big bad world and its demands. We meet sometimes, by accident or design; we hear of others doing well and still others who were and no more. We remember a life wholly lived and with joy now turned to memory
and nostalgia.