Revisiting the India that was-Memories of visits to India in the Seventies

We would visit India after every three years and these visits were eagerly awaited by the whole family. My brother two years younger to me, my sister younger by seven years, and of course, Mom and Dad. The visit to India was packed with a tight schedule for the two months that we spent in India. The two months would be spent in Gurgaon, our base where my Paternal Grandmother stayed, Moradabad where my maternal Grandmother stayed, and then there was Agra where my maternal uncle lived. Delhi was another City on the schedule because my uncle, (my father’s brother and my  aunt, my father’s sister) used to live.

Our journey invariably would start with the trip from Arbaminch to the capital of Ethiopia Addis Ababa. We would stay at a hotel in Addis Ababa till we got a confirmed ticket on the Ethiopian Airlines flight to Bombay. Our favourite restaurant in Addis Ababa was the Omar Khayam where we could feast on the tandoori chicken and the naans. The flight to Bombay was a much awaited event. We flew to Bombay, where we would meet my Mother’s sister  her husband and their three children. The stay at The Holiday Inn was a wonderful experience. We often stayed for one day so that we could get the Indian Airlines flight to Delhi the next day. The one day we spent in Bombay would be spent visiting the Juhu beach,  and drinking coconut water. The flight to Delhi would  invariably take place the next afternoon.

After the flight landed at Delhi, we would take a taxi to Gurgaon where my Grandmother would be waiting for us. I still remember the green coloured doors covered with mosquito netting. In Gurgaon we would meet the extended family. The humid and warm weather during the months of July and August would be uncomfortable enough. We often slept in courtyard with mosquito nets draped over frames that  covered the Charpoys or the traditional beds. The mosquitoes still found a way in in spite of all the Odomos cream we rubbed into our exposed limbs. Mornings started with the chirruping of Sparrows. Daadi, as we called our grandmother was a veritable  old lady who was so old that she could never grow older. She was strict and yet a kindly woman who gave us money to buy toys from the toy seller who would sell toys which included windmills, whistles, and those toys which had pictures on celluloid which had pictures on them.

In those days we were given a treat of sweets in the form of mixed sweets. The scent of Jallebis mixed with the scent of decaying stuff greeted us while walking down to the Bus stand for the Bus to Moradabad. The clacking of the horse drawing the Tonga to the bus stand and the rickety and rattling Haryana Roadways buses invariably painted blue would be our preferred  modes of transport from Gurgaon to Moradabad or Agra. When we reached Moradabad, we would go to the mission compound from the bus stand in rickshaws.The scents that greeted us on the way were a complex mix of sweets, the stink of garbage, incense sticks and other scents that have long disappeared with the coming of Malls and the fruits of advancement.

Naani, our maternal grandmother was another old and ancient woman who was old so old that she couldn’t get older! I remember that my brother and I pestered her to take us on outings. And more often than not she took us to the railway station where we saw the steam engines shunting and the scent of the burnt coal mixed with smoke were a unique scent that I have not experienced for ages! In Moradabad, we ran all along the  field , amongst the tamarind trees that grew in Mission compound. In Moradabad, we often went to the Company Bagh, which was an open space bounded by walls.

Today neither Naani or Daadi  are alive, but my memories of them can never be erased from my mind.Today I have settled in Gurgaon, India but can’t find that old India that I use to visit once in three years. Those two months that we spent in India passed away rather swiftly as they were spent visiting relatives in places like Agra, Moradabad, Delhi, and even Lucknow.  Those were days that left a mark that are difficult to erase! The scents that greeted us were a complex mix of sweet meats, decadence, incense sticks, and the bidis (local cigars) that greeted us everywhere. But then those were times when we as children could gain great satisfaction from the cheap toys we bought from the Khilonewala. Today children of the same age as my brother and I all those years ago are no longer satisfied with windmills and whistles and bioscopes. They are more interested in staying at home playing on computers and PSPs. Wonder where that India of complex scents and incense sticks and jugglers and monkey trainers has gone!  We children, my brother and cousins included were often drawn out by the typical sounding of the Dugdugi, a small hand-held drum that announced the appearance of the man with the monkeys the Madaari. The monkeys, a male and a female dressed in clothes would then be put through a routine with much calling out of the roles of the matrimonial culture. We were also entertained by a troupe of tight rope walkers, what with a little girl precariously balance on a tight rope going through the motions of crossing two ends balanced on her toes.

The mangoes were a great favourite, what with many a fight taking place between my father and my Grandmother regarding the size of the mango they picked up from the offering. The mixed sweets that we got from Laxmi Sweets in Gurgaon were greatly in demand since we would go without them for a whole three years in Ethiopia. We sure did miss the mosquitoes, the mixed sweets, and the toys that the roving toy salesman would sell.

When we returned to Ethiopia, our suitcases where packed with goods from India which would hopefully last the next three years. They goods we took back with us included the stuff, Saris which my mother bought from Chandni Chowk, the lentil based Barrias dried spicy dumplings which were my Father’s favourites, a large number of stickers, Commando Comics which we bought from the Greater Kailash market, the Sohan Halwa from Chandni Chowk in Delhi, and yes, the Bombay Halwa which my Dad bought from Bombay. All this stuff was packed in our Samsonite and VIP suitcases. Some of the stuff we took back did last a couple of years, but then, most of the stuff disappeared within a few months leaving us with a strong desire to visit India again! Nothing could beat the desire to visit our country again, and we all looked forward to the next visit. So I say, if memories can be packed in suitcases, can’t they be unpacked from them mind many years on? Now when I live in a modern India, I see that a great change has taken place. Instead of the bazaars we go to Malls, the scent of Jallebis  and the scent of decadence have been replaced by a more complex scent of latest perfumes. The rickety Haryana Roadways have been replaced by the ultramodern metros, and today in place of the humble Ambassador cars, the roads are full of more modern and sleek offerings from the automotive industry.

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A Nightmare Revisited-a short story

I stood watching the clear morning sky and saw a four-engined plane streak across the blue sky. The morning was young and the scent of the flowers wafted in the air.  The plane was not really high up having just taken off from the airport. Dad and I were standing in our garden admiring the plants with the flowers blooming. We didn’t speak, my dad and I, as we were enjoying the morning air! Somehow there was a dread in my heart at that day which the freshness of the morning could barely drive away, but I kept it in my heart. Still, I said to my father, “those Easter lilies look really good, don’t they, dad?”  “Yes,” he said smiling at me. We then stepped out of the compound on to the road.  Instinctively I  looked at the morning sky and with a feeling of misgiving at the plane that had just taken off from the airport nearby. I could see the four vapour trails in the air right behind it. Immediately, I saw an object detach itself from the fuselage and saw it tumbling down right at us! “Dad!” I shouted, “Look out” with a growing sense of unease, as I saw that it was one of the four engines tumbling down towards us. My dad stood frozen to the ground as he now also saw the object tumbling to the ground.

I remembered at that moment my father's account of the time when he was serving as an apprentice mechanic at the Delhi flying club long before I had come to this world. He and a couple of his friends had just  left the hangers for a cup of coffee when a fighter plane, a Gnat came swooping in, trailing flames behind it. The plane crashed into the hanger my father had just left, and immediately six planes, an assortment of Tiger Moths and Cessnas, fully fuelled, caught fire. Some of my father’s friends had stayed back and were charred to cinders. My grandfather immediately after the incident told my father to quit his aspirations of being a flight mechanic.

I looked back at the sky with a sense of horror and saw the huge aircraft engine tumble towards the earth. Barely able to shout a warning, I saw the object slam into the Earth with a loud report some distance away. With a sense of relief at having escaped a direct hit I looked at my dad and then back at the  sky. The plane from which the engine had fallen had turned back towards the airport, which, I believed was in order to make an emergency landing.I  had heard and even experienced a situation where a four engined aircraft had lost one of its engines and yet was able to land safely on three engines! What I saw  however, gave me a sense of unease- the plane, now with its three engines seemed to have lost its gracefullness in flight. It seemed to rush towards the Earth,  towards us, it seemed in an uncontrolled dive.  I tried shouting a second warning to my father to move away from the flaming wreckage of what had once been a graceful mechanical bird, but then the words simply wouldn’t   come out! A few moments later, the silver bird slammed into the ground with an almighty explosion. It was quite far away, but then it seemed as if it was right beside us. The whole ground shook with the impact, and  then it seemed as if time had come to a stop.  I realized that it had been providence that had save us! The flames from the wreckage leaped into the sky it was clear that there would be not survivors!

This, incidentally had been my second experience of a plane crash! I recalled a similar incident that had taken place a couple of years back. Back then, I had been with my friends, returning from college in Delhi when we saw a  three engine plane spiraling in the air, looping the loop as the expression would have been. The plane, a three engine craft would gain height, do a loop, and then come back down.  My two friends and I could see that something was wrong. The engines of the plane seemed to be screaming rather loudly and we could see, my friends and I, that there was difficulty in maintaining a level flight. After what seemed an agonizing five minutes, the plane slammed into the ground a kilometer away from us. We rushed, my friends and I, and when we reached the crash sight, we could see the wreckage of the silver bird. We knew that there would be no survivors, and with great sadness proceeded back to the bus terminal.

In both the instances I could feel the last moments of the passengers the fear of what was to come, the faith that they had in their pilots, and the last moments when the curtain of life was drawn across their eyes. But then these were two dreams that I had seen flash by my mind in the morning hours. Blame it on an active imagination of having read many stories about plane crashes, or for that effect playing Flight Simulator games on my personal computer. I have also been involved in two incidents while flying which might have created such a vivid picture in my mind. One was when there was a flame out in one of the four engines of the now ancient 707 plane when a vulture was ingested while taking off from Addis Ababa airport, another was the crash of a DC-3 from an airport in Arbaminch. I aware in both the dreams about the complicated interplay of trim controls, flaps et al in controlling a flight where there is an engine flameout, or the engine falls off. There have been numerous instances of engines falling off planes in the past. Today, however, traveling by plane is said to be safer than traveling by road!

Songs of Childhood-Memories of life in Arbaminch

 

I was nine and my brother was seven, and we had a huge fan following of Ethiopian friends in Arbaminch. We were a gang of children which included: Yeromnesh, Martha, Atakilt,  girls, while Sintayoo, Desalign, Simeign and Dawit were boys. We all lived in the same locality also called a Kebele. Although most of our friends came from close by, there were instances of  boys coming from far away just to meet my brother and I as the popular Firanges of the locality. Our favourite games in those days was football although we would also play volley-ball. The football matches were closely fought affairs on the field with the dust kicked by our feet roiling in the air. In those days I had an awful cough caused by the dust!

We had a lot to do after school in those days. After we had completed our homework we had the evenings to ourselves! One of our popular destinations was the Kulfoe river which flowed across the town on to one of the lakes. The Kulfoe river was a seasonal river with its depth varying from the dry season to the rainy season. My brother and I had our first swimming lessons in the Kulfoe river. The long walk to the river, often accompanied by an elder and a large group of our neighbourhood friends and back home would be tiring enough! Sintayoo and his elder brother, Simeign were our next door neighbours, and they always involved in our escapades and excursions.

In those days, our parents and us experimented with the planting of various crops, the seeds of which we brought from India. Besides the Horticulture, we were also interested in keeping a large number of pets. The pets included Chicken, Partridges ( in cages of course) dogs, deer, tortoise and the odd goat or so. Thus we boys were busy playing with one pet or the other! There was however one male Goat that roamed the lanes, and my, was he a bully! My brother and I, along with our friends were literally scared of this male goat that had butted one or two of us on some occasion or the other!

Some wild animals did figure in our conversations with our Ethiopian friends, and these included the marauding lions that often entered the town and slayed cattle. Hyenas were common as they roamed the streets after dark. Once, baboons formed an important topic of discussion for us. It revolved around reported incidents in which women who had gone to collect firewood from the forest had been attacked by baboons with sticks and stones. The baboons on seeing the group of women approaching the forest would clamber on to trees snarling and barking at the women. Some of the more enterprising ones would dare to brandish sticks at the women and some would even throw stones at the women.

Kurkuffa was a favourite food with the Gamugoffans. It was a meal of corn dumplings immersed in boiling water mixed with bitter leaves that grew on a particular tree which had wood as light as balsa wood. My brother and I often waited eagerly for the meal to be prepared so that we could taste some. Injera, the traditional pancake was made of “Teff”, a tiny seed growing on a grass like plant. The teff paste would be left to ferment and then it would be poured on to an earthen griddle to be cooked on a wood fire. The Shero Wat, or the Peas Curry could be had with the Injera. Shero Wat constituted a powdered forms of peas mixed with various spices. The powdered peas would be mixed with water and cooked to a consistency somewhat similar the the Kurrhi of India. What marks Ethiopian food as distinct from other varieties all over the world is the fiery taste of pepper. Pepper is of two varieties, the ordinary pounded red chilly pepper, and Mitmita. Mitmita is a preparation which is made up of a tiny variety of chillies (highly potent) dried, and pounded with dried garlic, dried onions and ginger along with a little salt.

Besides football and Kurkuffa, flying kites was another important pass-time for us. Since we did not had ready made kites, we had to make them ourselves. The European cross sticks kite and the  Indian Bow and cross stick kites were our favourite varieties. These kites had to have long tails attached to them for better stability in the strong winds. We experimented with the size of the kites and the materials we used to make them. One favourite material was plastic. Because of its greater strength as compared to paper, we used plastic to make bigger kites, some times so big that they required a couple of us to help with the launch. The problem with the PVC-Plastic was that it was in short supply and it came in the form of the wrapping in which dry-cleaned coats were handed over to customers by the dry-cleaners. Paper, on the other hand was plentiful as we had a lot of the Pravda newspapers that our Soviet Friends gave to us!

Insects were plentiful in those days and they came in great varieties. The red spider was a common spider that grew to a large size. I don’t really know whether it was poisonous or not, but never the less my Dad was very particular about spraying insecticide indoors every night. Another spider common to the place carried her babies on her back. If you crushed her, then woe betide as all the babies would spread outwards! The red velvet spiders came out of the earth right before rains, or immediately after the rains. There were times when the ground would be covered by a waving carpet of red, velvet spiders migrating to higher ground. The sand fly, or the boring fly, also called as “Moyale” in the local tongue was a fly that bored a small hole between the nail and the soft flesh of the toe of the foot, lay its eggs and then fly away. The result would be an unbearable itching from the affected area. The Local ladies were experts in extracting a sac containing the eggs and the larva. The sac would have to be extracted without breaking it, lest the larvae should remain with the toe. The caterpillars that turned up during a particular period of the month were repulsively huge, gorging on large amounts of leaves. coloured black, red, and white, they could be found crawling everywhere, trees, branches, leaves and the ground. My brother was especially allergic to the Caterpillars as his eyes would turn a strange colour with the whites of the eyes almost engulfing the pupils!

For us children, the Monitor Lizards were especially repulsive. These lizards reaching a length of two to three feet in length were known to devour chicken eggs and the chickens themselves! They were known locally by the name, “Arjano”. Although, we boys were pretty brave, we could not however bear the sight of these lizards as they struck a great fear in our hearts!There were stories that revolved around the lizards which was to the effects that they were poisonous and that their bite could be deadly!

 

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Some poetic lines written on a desk by a lovelorn student of class eight!

Once while doing the rounds of a class which once housed students of class eight, I came across some graffiti written on a highly decorated desk top. The depth of emotions and feelings expressed by this anonymous writer struck me, and I very strongly believed that I should share the feelings expressed in  the space of a narrow desk! Creativity should be recognised and shared with all humanity!

The first Graffiti reads:

Love of my life, you hurt me!

You have stolen my heart,

And desert(ed) me. (Apologies for the Grammar!)

Love of my life,

Can’t you see,

Bring it back,

Bring it back!

Don’t take it away from me.

-Queen.

If indeed Queen had written these words, then sure he has one great follower, doesn’t he? But then wait, there is more to come! The next poem reads:

Wait a minute, I am passing out,

Win or lose,

Far more shocking than anything

I ever knew!

How about you?

Ten more reasons why I need

Somebody new.

Just like you.

Far more shocking than anything,

I ever knew right on cue,

Can’t stop by the way!

But then wait, there’s more to come:

Without you,

Without your everything falls apart,

Without your,

It’s not much fun picking up the pieces,

You are the perfect drug,

And I want you!

Nine Inch Nails

But then the exuberance goes on in the pouring of a lovelorn eighth class student:

She says we gotta hold on,

To what we got,

It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not,

We got each other,

And that’s a lot for love!

We’ll give it a shot,

O’ halfway there!

O! living on a prayer,

Now and then when I see her,

It takes me back to her face,

It takes far too long to that special place,

I’d probably break down and cry!

Sweet child O! mine-

Guns and Roses

Such exuberance and such pathos, it is amazing, especially in a student of class eight! If he has such a memory and is able to write such poetic lines, it is worth appreciation!

A Note of Caution: Desks are not meant to be written on! you never know who might be watching. There are better mediums for creative writing, you could write your thoughts in a diary, or for that effect even write a blog.

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“Behind everything in life a purpose be!”

Behind everything in life a purpose be,

As success sweet shadows  harsh defeat ,

And Spring follows Autumn drear.

A moment of hardship trains you well,

To face doubtful times with laurels so sure!

  Oh, to  lay weary heads in restful sleep!

Behind everything in life a purpose be,

But question not the testing times,

And savour most the coming joy!

A moment of doubt salutes

A moment so clear, as the sweet stream

Greets the  thirsty traveler!

So they say,  valleys do greet mountains so sheer,

As feasts do greet travellers that hunger,

And sweet sleep awaits those that tire!

Behind every thing in life a purpose be!

So the thorns of roses speak of what could be,

For a life without thorns would be a life not lived!

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