The beginning of my pocket money

It was during those days with L that I got introduced to the attractive delicacies sold in the petty shops on the way to school. There were some umpteen shops on the way, each specializing in something or the other, needless to say, junk food of those times! There were these cookies in a bakery, all loaded with dalda/margarine, ranging from 20 paise to 1 rupee; there were deep fried fryums (boti) for 5 paise each, peppermint for 5 paise, cut fruits and cucumber, may be for a similar value, cotton candies, chocolates from Nestle, Pary’s, Cadbury’s, and some with no brand but very popular; there was this gadi wala with some colorful rubbery candy, that he used to make as various designs, as wrist watches, rings, or lolli pops, etc; and there were these chikis of various forms and sizes; honey cake for about 2 rupees a piece, and many many goodies like this. Ohh whatever happened to those small coins and the goodies they used to bring, now!! I guess today’s kids haven’t even seen a 50 paise coin!

Mom, being a good and experimental cook, used to make many snacks at home and pack for school too. She even used to bake a couple of cakes and cookies too, something very big for those days. Needless to say, they were far healthier and of great standards, and of course something less attractive for a 7 year old who was exposed to a hundred different things outside :)

This girl L used to always have some money with her. Sometimes less than a rupee, and more often more than a few rupees, sometimes even 5 or 10. Now, looking at the values of stuff mentioned above in that age, this was quite a money to splurge, esp by school kids.

So she introduced me to various shops on the way, which I had only seen till now, or may be mom bought me a pencil or eraser from one of these occasionally. Every day, she’ll buy a different item, depending on how much money she had and would give me a small portion out of it. And I’d devour the taste of all these new colorful, exciting stuff! That was when I tasted my first honey cake, one of her favorite costly treats, the deep fried fryums (mom always made happaLa-sandige at home and fried them in good oil), some open candies like peppermint, orange candy etc (dad and mom used to get only covered candies), and so on. Even at school, there were kids who would go out in the lunch break and buy some goodies from the innumerable shops surrounding.

Even after having had all these, the greedy me was always eyeing one bakery very close to school where there were a hundred kinds of cookies in jars on the counter. These cookies used to attract me every day, but L had not bought these even once. And my self esteem would not let me ask her to buy me one of those! One of the days I even mustered up courage to go up to the shop and ask about the prices of these cookies. They ranged from 20 paise to 1 rupee.

Back home when there was some change left out on the table or counter, I’d eye them and evaluate the coins to the cookies that I wanted. If I had even faintly asked me parents I wanted to taste one of these, they’d have definitely bought me, but I didn’t. I picked up one coin first and carefully hid it in my uniform pocket. And the same day in the lunch break, I walked up to the shop and handed him the only coin I had and asked for the least expensive cookie. I still remember the taste of it. It was a salt biscuit, the size of today’s 2-rupee coin. Hmmm… it was tasty! Esp since it was stolen, I believe!

So this continued; I tasted a few other cookies and candies like this, each time getting more courageous.

My parents were, as always smarter than me, and had doubted about this. (I wonder how, but will ask mom after showing this story!) But they wanted to confirm before confronting me. So on a Sunday, dad had left some change, quite many coins than usual, along with his wallet on a table when he went to bath. And mom also made sure she didn’t come to that room for a long enough time for me to pick them and hide them. I thought I had accomplished something with great success, but I was wrong. They had counted all the coins and kept them and now, it was clear that I had picked whatever was missing.

And then began another counseling session! I sobbed, and was sure something terrible was to happen now. I guess I lied to them at first, and then admitted. I confessed on doing it for some days now and told them what I did with the money. They told me about Mahatma Gandhi’s story of stealing his dad’s pen, and said it was okay! Surprisingly, they didn’t scold me or beat me, only explained to me it was wrong. They could have falsely suspected the maid for what I had done, they could then lose trust in me if I continued it and so on.

And then they decided to give me some pocket money every day. It was 25 paise a day. I could use it every day or save it for a couple of days for a bigger cookie, or save some for the future and make a big sum of it and use it for a bigger thing. Whatever I did with it was up to me, it was my money! But there were some important things that had to be kept in mind:

•          No open foods - they are very unhealthy because of the dust, dirt and germs on them
•          No cut fruits/veggies for the same reasons
•     No boiled food - like boiled corn or boiled peanuts - the water they’d have used might be very unhygienic and unhealthy
•          Not too much of fried foods, as the oil they use is not as good as the ones used at home
•        Cookies can be had occasionally as they are mostly with dalda and not pure ghee, which is not healthy in the long run

Yes, there were a lot many things to have in spite of all these No’s. I did use the money for my little pleasures, but also made sure I saved it (More about the savings in a later post). The amount I got, almost doubled every year, became a weekly sum from daily, and then monthly. By the time of college I was getting about 500 bucks, but I had also learnt to use it meticulously.

Pics Courtesy Google Image Search

The day I bunked school

I was in second standard then, about 7 years of age. My school was about a kilometer or two from home and I used to walk for about half an hour to reach. There were some country roads which we had to walk to save time and distance, a railway line to cross, a slum to go past. Those were the days when there were no school buses painted yellow to take the kids to school. May be there were in some hi-fi international schools, but those were something we were unaware of. We did our schooling in some local private school as did most of our peers from that age. And walking to school was the only option. Second Saturdays would be special as dad would be off from work and would drop us in his scooter, a luxury we looked forward to!

In the beginning mom used to accompany me, with my little sister, who would walk a bit and for the rest of the walk, end up in mom’s arms. And then there was this older girl, a neighbor of ours, who was in fifth or sixth standard then who also went to the same school and an arrangement was made for me to go with her and comeback with her. Let’s call her L.

I used to enjoy walking with her - a big girl who seemed to know so much, who had friends on the way, who knew many shops that sold candies on the way and who I thought was one bold girl. What I didn’t know then was that she used to miss classes quite often, be sent out by teachers every other day for not completing home work and got very low grades. These were something that weren’t even possible for me to imagine, as my parents saw to it that I always completed my homework, taught me at home as well, never allowed me to bunk just like that and I was always told education was the most important thing to have in life! So all things that this girl L did, amused me.

There were times when I’d have some complex and feel inferior to her, as I never had the guts to do all that she did - to be so carefree about school, and not to be asked about anything about school at home. I envied her freedom! I cursed my luck for having parents who took interest in my studies and grades and home works…

(What I didn’t know then was that as soon as she completed her 10^th, no matter she failed or passed with a rank, her parents would get her married off to a rich guy or rather a man, much older than her, and then she’ll have a couple of kids before her mid twenties and that’s about it. There was nothing beyond this for her to aspire for… but in my case, my parents aspired that I’d study well (of course I was the one who got first in class most of the times) and become an engineer or a doctor or whatever was that I aspired. They wanted me to become independent with good education and that was the most important one.)

Coming back to the story, this girl, on some days stopped by the railway track and asked me to go to school alone and come back in the evening. By now, I was well aware of the route and was used to walking alone too. And in the evenings when I’d come back she’d already be there, and would walk back with me. I was so dumb that I’d assume she came to school after me and came back just before me! Later she told me that she’d sit by the railway track and play there by herself for the entire day and go back home after the school hours!

She tried persuading me to give her company too. But I was too scared to attempt anything like that as I knew the consequences of it. When I didn’t give in, she tried scaring me. She showed me a used and thrown hand gloves and said stories that there were some criminals there who murdered people and chopped their bodies into pieces and carried them in gunny bags. And that this hand had fallen off by mistake. I was petrified by this thought. I then agreed to stay with her one day, and hide and watch that guy who killed people! Was it out of fear of that guy or was it because of curiosity or to appear bold like her, I don’t remember now. Anyways I bunked the next day.

As we reached the railway track, we didn’t go further on the school road and instead, removed our shoes and got on to playing something there. And the criminal who was apparently the cause of this venture had been forgotten! After about an hour or so, to my ill luck, there came this neighbor aunty, who knew both of us and there we were caught red handed, err mud handed :)

I don’t remember the exact sequence of what happened later, but I and L were in that lady’s house and my mom was brought there; our house was a couple of furlongs from hers, may be her son went over and brought my mother (there were no telephones then). Mom had her comb still stuck on her hair, she had left in a hurry. And the next thing I remember is that my mom took me home silently, clearly angry and as soon as we went home, she changed my soiled clothes and gave me a couple of whacks from her comb.

And later I was given some counseling and asked to confess on the details of the event. And there was some lesson on why it was bad to bunk so as well; and how it could be dangerous for little girls to be roaming about the railway track the whole day and so on. And there ended my bunked day!

Come home sometime....

There was this aunty who lived in our locality, a little away from our home. Her son was my school mate and Ma and she had met a couple of times at school and had got befriended. In the evenings when I and Ma used to go for a walk, we’d pass by their home. If she’s out at that time, she’d stop us for a chat. The talkative lady that she was, she would not let us leave for a long time, talking this and that. But strangely, she would not welcome us inside so that we could sit and talk.

After a few attempts of trying to end the conversation, finally when we set out to leave from there, she always had this comment, “Please do come home sometime, when you pass by this side”. We’d say “Sure!” and walk off from there and have a hearty laugh! This used to be a regular scene, and I used to make fun with mom, and remind her that “We should go to her house sometime, when we’re passing that way”! And it never happened. Every time we’re there, she’ll never invite us in, and at the end she’d say her usual dialogue. After a few years, she had shifted from that place and heard nothing of her.

I was pleasantly surprised a few days back when I was returning from office, and I see that same aunty, of course a little older now, in front of a house. I stopped by and talked to her, and learnt that she lived here now, very near my new home. And again she never asked me in, and when I set out from there after talking for a while, it was her usual dialogue that made me smile – “Do come home sometime, when you’re passing by this side”!!!

How I wanted to tell her that I do pass by the same road everyday, and yet I do not want to go to her house!!!

Navarathri - A festival of dolls

In school days, apart from 2-3 weeks of mid-term holidays, Dasara was a special season - full of celebration, decoration, nice things to eat, lot of visitors at home....

Dad, mom and we would all arrange the steps, decorate walls and ceilings with color papers, hang silk curtains out of mom’s sarees, get down the big carton of dolls, stored in the attic, arrange them all, put serial lights, help mom with making many varieties of snacks and sweets for guests.....

And this was one time of the year when I would take my friends home, mom and dad would invite their friends, our teachers, relatives, people in the neighborhood, and the house will be full of visitors.....

It had been missing it all from the last few years. This time, I made up my mind to do it all, albeit in a smaller scale, in my house and relive those moments again. I convinced Dee and in-laws on this, got home a part of the packed dolls from mom’s place and started out the venture. Dee, who was reluctant in the beginning, had his creativity coming out of from some hidden corner and got so fully involved and made such good arrangements.

Top view of our park

We started out making a park first time, not sure how much of sand and mud should go in for some ragi to grow, and look green!!! With a lot of phone calls to mom, and suggestions from in-laws, we got it to a decent looking form.

We got little niece Hima on our side, by involving her, and giving her a role to watch out for anyone touching the dolls, and complaining about them to me! This made her feel responsible and engaged, and she never disturbed the set up. She in fact was so delighted that she kept on hugging me and telling me, “Atte, gombe super!!” Ahh... what a moment it was!
And she called this doll in the park, with a dog as "Hima and Bruno"...
Ok, so we arranged everything, in whatever little time we got. I realized how difficult it is to take out time for all these, after a tiring day at work....... We invited some friends, but couldn’t invite many more And managing so many visitors was also a challenge! But after all the efforts, it was rewarding. I felt great pride in saying these are my parents’ collection, most of them over two decades old, when someone asked about them. Overall, it was a good start, and hope we continue with it.....

Note:
Navarathri or Dasara is a festival of dolls in South India. Most of the households have a tradition of decorating and arranging a collection of dolls, during this festival for 10 days. A pair of wooden dolls of bride and groom, which is passed on to the girl during her wedding, is the most important one. In households having constraints of making a full fledged arrangement, at least these two dolls will be kept along with kalasa (kalash) and goddesses are prayed. During this period, friends and relatives, especially kids will be invited and sweets and snacks distributed to them.

The red leaved plant

After many years, I saw this plant in aplenty again on waysides in Yercaud. This plant has flowers with red leaf-like petals. It actually looks like red leaves (I used to think the leaves turn red in some season!). It brought back so many memories from childhood….

In school days, there was one such plant near a friend’s house. I was deeply fascinated by it, and loved to collect these leaves or rather petals. I remember it used to have these red petals only in one season – may be winter when I used to have Dasara holidays. I used to go cycling all the way till that friend’s place only to collect these petals. We’d carefully save these in between pages of my books and let dry. And I and she would flaunt it in front of my other classmates once the school reopened.... We made up stories that this is a kind of red leaf which is found only to lucky people, and it brings luck, etc.... When asked to share a few petals, we would refuse to! Or give it to only those friends who were very good to us!!! And my sis, in an attempt to compete with me, had once filled her favorite book, with petals of some other flower. To her ill luck, that flower was probably too delicate, and it had got stuck to the pages, instead of drying off. And the entire book had gone waste. Yes, she did get scolding from mom and dad for that!

Ahhh... those childhood days were so colorful……

Well, when I saw this plant again last month, I did again become a kid. Dee was probably wondering what was so special with it…… I was bent upon getting one sapling home and having it grow in front of home. We thought we’d take one just before leaving, but due to the rains, we couldn’t :( And yes, I was upset about it.

But guess what??? Last week when I had been to Chickmagalur with my team on another outing, I did find the same plant, and this time I made it a point to get one home. Planted it myself, and watering it regularly.... hoping for it to grow and bear those red leafy flowers….. and remind me of my childhood everyday........

The Little House Books

When my friend who was coming back from the US asked me for the umpteenth time what I wanted from there, my usual reply was “Nothing!”. But this time he really pestered me to ask for something, and almost did an emotional blackmail that I do not consider him a good enough friend, etc etc, and hung up!!! I was really confused now, not knowing what to ask him, if at all I should. I am not so crazy about getting things from abroad, and of late I have started feeling that we get almost anything in namma Bengaluru itself. Hmmm......

Suddenly I remembered my favorite book series, which I had been searching for in almost every other book store in Bangalore from many years, but in vain. Yes!! I could ask him to get me a couple of books from that series; I only had the Kannada translations of some of them with me. Anyway he would get me something or the other, though I do not ask him to. Instead, why not ask him to get me my favorite stuff? So the next time he called me, I told him about these books, and sent him the list of the books, in order of my liking, and asked him to get me a couple of them, preferably the ones on top of my list. He again called me up, sounding confused and said “These books look like kids’ books, are these the ones you actually asked for?” Eeeeeeeee, I grinned, yup, that’s what I want! And well, he got me 8 out of 9 books of the series!!
Ok ok, let me tell more about it. Laura Ingalls Wilder was an American author, who lived in the late 19th century and early 20th century. She has written a series of books for children called “The Little House Books” based on her childhood in a pioneer family. There was this old, worn off book at home, “Hullugavalinalli putta mane” by S. Anantha Narayana, a translation of her “Little House on the Prairie”. I remember growing up listening to and reading from this book. Chikki (my aunt) used to read out one chapter for me after in returned from my pre-school, and I would listen to her and imagine all of it, as if it were happening in front of me.

Later on, when I started reading myself, ma gave me the other three old books of the series she had at home. I was so deeply fascinated by them that I had started imagining myself as Laura, and my family as her family she has written about. At times, I’d hallucinate that I am the actually the rebirth of Laura herself!!! Ha ha… I used to enjoy imagining things like that!!!
And recently I did play a prank on Dee saying that I remember about my previous janma, that I was Laura in my last birth, blah blah. I sounded so serious that probably at one point he was kinda perplexed!!! However, I still have this dream of going to the US once, and visit the places that she has mentioned she lived at.

Ok, we hadn’t found the other 4-5 books anywhere, till my college days, when our library had got new re-prints of the entire series. Happily, I had read all of them again, and slowly started buying them one by one whenever I found one. But reading the original books in English had still been a dream. No book store in Bangalore had it, and I had left hope.
But when I googled for it a couple of years ago, found so many links and so much more info about her! And wow!!! The books are still sold in US!!! And now, I have them with me! Yayyyyy!!! I was so delighted last evening when I got them…… wanted to read them all at once!
I surely want my kids also to grow up reading them ;))
PS: my friend has missed the 7th book in the series – “A little town on the Prairie”, one of my favorites. Now, greedy Sum wants that too :D

Updated Later:

Ok! The seventh book, which i thought was missing was in the car itself :). Dee saw it and got it to me the next day. Yayyy!!! I am happy :)))