Once Again I wish I am a Child

by Syam Hariharan

I was born in a village surrounded by small water canals brushed by the slow moving river Kaithapuzha. Childhood memories are certainly pleasant and often enriches my thoughts and dreams of a lost golden era of life. The rainy monsoons, farmers working on muddy paddy fields, fragrance of freshly harvested rice pellets, the smell of fresh milk, whirl pool of salted lassi with floating fragments of butter, fluttering of birds, the small grunts of cows, feeble sound of milking cows. The village life perfectly matched a typical ‘’Malgudi’’. People used to wake upon siren of Hen, students and working class kept their schedules as per the factory siren which whistled at regular intervals. The entire village set their watches, clocks and memories as per the schedule of the factory siren. I could see the big chimney of the Tyre factory ejecting thick black smoke into the blue sky.

  I used to get up early morning, walk around in the big fenced plot, watching my aunts sweeping dry leaves of Mango, jack fruit, cashew and guava trees. They used to pile it up at certain locations and lit them up. During the cold winter mornings I used to warm up my hands in fire and bake some “ Kaawath/ Kaachil**, cashew nuts’’ in that fire. It was so much delicious to have them baked in fire. When the burnt blackish outer skin is broken; fresh aroma slides though the nostrils flooding the taste buds. Around six o clock in the morning people from the neighbouring homes came to fetch water from pond and well. They share village news and have small chit chats. Everyone had a special glow in the face; no one seemed to be under work pressure like the faces which we see in the modern offices. 

  There were some regular visitors for my grandmother after the busy early morning schedule. Around 9 the fish seller woman, a little plump brownish lady with mouth full of beetle leaf and tobacco. She used to sip a cup of black coffee and take a short rest on our backyard veranda. Weekly once an old chicken vendor used to appear with his white turban and a collection of white, brown and patched chickens with legs tied on his flat bamboo carriage kept over his head. He talked very less and never stopped at our home except when he was thirsty.  During summer season the Cashew trader, came with a big sack of Cashews, we used to sell cashews to him to earn some money for the local Ice-cream sticks. There were many traditional Muslim neighbours; Ummomma belonged to the big bungalow just behind our plot. Ummomma had big golden bangles; she wore stylish clothes, pretty. She chewed betel and tobacco and often smoked small beedi’s. My grandma believed in some magical powers of Ummomma, once when I was sick, tired of severe fever she took me to Ummomma’s bungalow where she chanted some Arabic mantras and gave me some granules of sugar. Grandma said it is to keep away bad energies.   I felt overjoyed when the festival season of the near by temple approached, a “Velichappad**“ with bronze bells on his sword came through our narrow passage , and a big elephant after him himself struggled to enter into the passage. We used to serve them with heaps of rice, coconuts and bananas and jaggeries. Temple festivals were so much colorful with big smashing fireworks which spread under the starry sky.

Moonlit nights, bathing in the near by pond during summer, flashing lightning and running to the mango tree to collect falling mangoes, furious monsoon rains…………… everything still remain wonderful, and when I look back to life, I feel sorry for the children I will have, what I can give them is an air conditioned space with a small balcony to see the world. They may not believe in what I say about my childhood. I wish the world may go back to the old generations, where we see love and in pain to share the pain. 

........................................................................................................... ** Kawath/ Kachil – Is a special tuber similar to Tapioca, a starchy food stuff which is often boiled and mixed with grated coconut and salt or baked in fire.** Velichappad- --Is a person who is believed as the representative of Goddess Kali, he visits homes to collect fund for the temple activities. During those visits he wears special clothes and swings the sword of Kali. Some times he predicts future of people.