Those were the days my friend

 

Today there was a longing - a very sudden urge

deep within me

To take a walk – a nostalgic walk

On an avenue, of the Railway quarters

In my hometown- Allahabad.

 

Instantly I was transported back home

And there I was – a young boy again

Revisiting his roots.

 

Those narrow, enchanting, tree lined avenues

Predominantly ‘neem’, ‘gulmohar’ and the occasional ‘pepul’

Where I played as a boy.

 

It was ‘121 Traffic Quarters- third avenue’

The address has a nice ring to it, even now.

The home where I was born and raised.

 

Those old Railway houses – Colour washed, once a year

 Double- storied, simple square blocks

with gardens at the side, front and back.

Where flowers bloomed & vegetables were grown

 And chickens were often reared.

They laid their eggs in the hedges around the house

And I went and collected them every morning

A chore I loved – often there were six!

 

There were dogs too and we had one

 some aggressive  ones that bit-

 others whose ferocious bark was sufficient to scare you away.

 

The hedges were low and stunted – if any at all

Usually bushy and green with the occasional bougainvillea

Chameleons and butterflies aplenty.

Barriers and walls were a rarity back then

If it was yours – it was mine too

The jamun, plumb and guava trees

tempted all and sundry- we picked and plucked at will.

We were shouted at occasionally

if caught in the act – but nothing serious or of any consequence

hence, we did it repeatedly& with impunity.

 

I vividly recall

Vegetable and fruit sellers with their carts

Shouting out the various prices while cutting through

the narrow lanes.

 Peanut vendors, ‘Fatty’ - the butcher, the old man with his Ice cream cart,

 ‘Bushy’, the baker, with bread, tasty patties and biscuits

In his tin box on the carrier of his bicycle – and the bell!

The ‘box man’ with trinkets and other knick-knacks for sale,

 ‘Kallu the kabari’ with his raucous laughter

Who knew everyone by name- he loved to gossip.

Not to forget ‘Smiler’, the toothy cloth merchant

With his bag of fancy material for Christmas dresses and shirts.

These were all regulars I can never forget.

 

All residents had household helpers who cooked and cleaned

Everyone was either ‘baba, baby, saheb or mem- saheb’

The older adults were ‘Bara- Saheb and Bara Mem-saheb’

Many stayed in small quarters at the back of the houses

 

 Everyone sat out in winter

Lunch in the shade of the moringa tree was so nice

Although I detested the curry with drumsticks !

 

 Eating peanuts and having tea at four!

It got chilly by five – and the adults went in to freshen up

For the evening – no TV back then – just chit- chatting!

Visitors dropped in unannounced

Simple friendly people and oh so many of us kids

Seemingly more boys than girls whose only ambition in life

Was to play!

 

The avenues were put to good use

by rickshaws pullers, cyclists, pedestrians

a few scooterists, motorcyclists and the rare car

Who took this short cut to the Civil Lines.

 

We however put it to greater use

  And played cricket, football, kings , seven tiles

And “gulli danda’’ as well

Oh, those endlessly long, fun filled afternoons

Where, caste, colour, creed or religion

Had no bearing.

The burning of the ‘holkar’, the playing of ‘Holi’

The Eid and Christmas celebrations

We enjoyed them all.

The avenue lights came on at dusk

Thinking back now – they were rather dim.

Many were covered by creepers

 that had crept up the long pole- they dimmed the lights at times

 

“I spy” rang out from various corners, in the late evening

And the shrieking and shouting continued till around nine

With us charging around in groups and having a blast

Before one knew it, it was eight or somewhere around that time

When the unwritten rule said- ‘get home’ for dinner.

Uncomplicated pastimes, kindred spirits, simple pleasures, great friendships

“Those were the days my friend”