Growing up in Allahabad's Thornhill club

I grew up in the Anglo-Indian Colony in Allahabad and it was a warm, homely sort of place. Spacious and airy, people often joked that it looked like a scene out of the wild west – some sort of a ranch minus the horses and guns! There were a few dogs and at times cows and buffaloes were left to graze by their owners but that added to the rustic charm. Encompassing an area of around one square kilometre, there were around thirty-five Anglo Indian families residing there and any number of servants who worked for them. It was known as the Thornhill Club – the colloquial name was the Bandhwa club! Not sure about the origin of both names. This property comprised a large compound within which were a number of spacious, red colonial type buildings with large gardens and a few other smaller cottages with manicured lawns and potted plants. An unpaved, winding road ran through the centre, large neem trees proved plenty of shade on either side , a lot of greenery and innumerable flowering plants and bushes added colour to every compound and right in the centre was a large hall with ante rooms , wooden flooring , badminton court etc. There were also a few tennis courts, but I never saw anyone play tennis on them. Towards the back of this property and at the end of a steep rugged slope was the “dhobi ghat” where the ‘dhobis’ from all over the town came to wash clothes. They came with their donkeys laden with dirty clothes and then let them out to graze while they toiled on for a few hours daily. Although they were over one hundred meters away, I vividly remember hearing them washing those clothes at the crack of dawn, shouting, and grunting each time they banged the clothes on to the sloping stone washing stands. They even did so unflinchingly during the very chilly Allahabad winters while we were all tucked into bed under tons of warm bedding – not sure if they are still there but they sure slogged on manfully. The Anglo-Indian families in the colony were all easy going, God fearing people who knew each other well. Most had lived there for over twenty-five years or more. At times I felt they knew too much about each other and always tried to learn more. As a young boy I often overheard adult conversations about who was divorcing who , of someone who had got engaged and not invited so and so as the families were not on good terms or of someone else who had stopped going to church as she did not like the new parish priest . No one was rich and no one was poor, and I guess that kept everyone peaceful. There was the usual jealousy and back biting but then no one even today is above reproach on that front. It was quite common to hear a knock on the door at eight am on a Saturday or Sunday morning when a neighbour had just decided to drop in for a cup of tea and a chat (read gossip) .We were not yet fully awake but such was the closeness of the families that no appointments were needed and almost all visits were un announced and without invitation! These visits could last anywhere from half an hour to two hours and at times a makeshift breakfast was rustled up as well and the guest stayed on for some more time. It is pertinent at this juncture to inform you that this entire property had no boundary wall, no fence, no watchman and the one winding road had no lights. At night one navigated the road with the help of a torch or managed with the lights from the houses and compounds which incidentally were switched off by around eleven. Nevertheless, I never heard of any robberies or break ins. Once during the Christmas season , after a few drinks, two hens were stolen by someone and sold to someone else in the same colony but nothing more of note . I have so many vivid memories of those wonderful days – they leave me with a fuzzy feeling even today The hall in the centre of the property was used for weddings, dances, parties, badminton and some miscellaneous meetings. If you knew the families, you were usually invited to the wedding and you just had to walk across. If on the other hand you did not know them, then you sat on your veranda and watched the wedding unfold fifty meters away. It was a nice way to pass the evening. Comments were passed on the number of guests, the quality of music, the aroma from the outdoor cooking, the decoration and even the gowns of the bride and bridesmaids. Some were good while others were rather uncharitable! There were a large number of servants living in the out houses and they usually invited themselves to all weddings with the excuse of helping out .They thus managed to get a free meal which no one begrudged them. If they were lucky, someone gave them a drink too. The dances during Easter, Christmas and New year were big affairs. Over two hundred couples and families bought tickets in advance – some bought them at the door at a premium , the best bands in the town were in attendance , guests dressed in all their finery, and dancing till the wee hours of the morning. Snacks and Liquor were on sale during the show and some people carried their own – no questions were asked. There were the occasional arguments & skirmishes , when undesirable, uninvited, lone, drunk guys tried to force their way into the hall or when someone tried to dance with someone else’s girlfriend or wife ! Needless to add, these gate crashers were fisted and literally shoved out by some of the very tough Anglo Indian gents who manned the door and knew how to use their fists to their advantage when needed. Everything carried on peacefully thereafter. I once saw a chair being thrown across the hall at two young chaps who were trying to force their way in! At times, those who had been refused admission waited for the dance to end and passed uncalled for remarks at those leaving and another fight ensued. On a few occasions the police from the nearby police station were called in but then again – things usually died down pretty soon I too played in the band for many years- first on the drums and then the rhythm guitar – was the lead singer as well. Did if for the thrill and the high, the little fame we presumed was coming our way and of course the money which helped in those difficult days! As a band I must say we were pretty good and quite in demand all over the town. That we were all in our early twenties added to the charm, I guess. Christmas in the club was quite the highlight of the year. Everyone decorated their houses which had been “whitewashed and painted” a few weeks before. Coloured lights, Christmas trees, fancy curtains and blaring music wafting through the air all added to the festive feeling. Carol singers made sure they visited all the houses in the compound in the weeks before Christmas and were welcomed in with snacks and drinks. If it was late, some people hid from them and refused to open the doors much to the chagrin of the poor singers out in the cold! The chilly winters during the vacations saw everyone sitting outside almost all day – wearing layers of clothes to keep themselves warm. Breakfast, lunch & tea were all had outdoors. As soon as the sun began going down, which was around four pm, the chairs were taken in, the doors shut and small coal fires lit. There was no television back then and no internet either, yet no one got bored. There were books to read, board games to play and others  like “I spy and kick the can” – which were quite a hit. Christmas does remind me of one old gentleman – whenever he visited, everyone was on guard because if you offered him snacks and left him alone for a minute , he would empty them into his bag and say Bye before anyone had time to react . But then again – no one was going to tell him to give the items back – it was quite a dirty looking cloth bag in the first place! Visitors during the festive season were aplenty. Every family made Christmas cakes and if you asked for the recipe, they usually told it to you but left out one key ingredient! There were innumerable other goodies all made at home and each family usually had their own speciality. I remember my mother making cakes, yummy fudge and a sweet we called stick jaw – well that is exactly what it did. Made of cooked sugar or jaggery, you could take one ball, put it in your mouth and chew it for hours. The Christmas tree for the kids was another fun evening. Around fifty kids and their parents turned up at around three in the afternoon. Santa Claus arrived by four. The hall was well decorated with balloons, buntings, streamers and coloured lights. A large Christmas tree took centre stage. There were games, dancing, music and snacks. Santa was usually someone from the colony. He arrived by means of the transport available at the time - on a motorcycle or scooter , in a rickshaw, once in a tonga or he just came walking up the slope and ringing his bell from behind the building . He threw sweets for the kids to keep them as far as possible as they tugged at his cape and that often caused quite a stampeded with children rolling in the mud . I was once requested to be Santa Claus but I refused point blank as the year before, some naughty boys had tugged at Santa’s beard and tried to partially disrobe him in the bargain . ! Boys will be boys and they were all of ten years old so you can imagine, wickedness was in their bones. The girls were usually sober and dignified and they simpered and giggled when he arrived or during the gift giving time. The smaller kids howled, cried and were literally dragged by their doting parents to receive their gift from Santa. When they refused to go to Santa or kiss him they were roughed up as well - I thought the whole things was rather sadistic at times. Once the gifts were given out there was gift wrapping paper strewn all over , there were bugles and whistles being blown , drums being beaten , cars being rolled , children running wild in excitement – it was mayhem galore. If we were lucky, a few photographs were taken if someone had a camera – don’t forget this was the pre mobile age – it was the seventies and eighties! Anyway, while the ladies were busy entertaining the kids and seeing to the snacks and games , a few gents would always slip off to have a Chota or two ( If you don’t know what that is you can find out ) . They would then re-enter the hall looking pretty sheepish, especially when their wives asked then where they had been! They also did a lot of smiling and talking when they returned and it was obvious they were all pretty high and happy for it! Rounders and kick the can during the day were other games that the youth indulged in so also seven tiles and a game with a ball called Kings! Boys and girls from other parts of Allahabad would come to play too and those were days of plenty of merriment and general good clean fun Some youth also conducted a badminton tournament every ear – it was a Tin a Bottle tournament – ie you paid a small entry fee of five rupees and you donated a tin or bottle of something edible – that would go towards the prize hampers. Many a lovely evening was spent battling it out on the badminton court in the hall – the wooden flooring is still as good as ever I am told. There was also the occasional Housie but that did not catch on. The compound of the club was quite dark & deserted at night & I was often quite scared when, having played for a dance somewhere in the town , I was dropped at the entrance gate to the large property well past midnight and had to walk about one hundred meters down the winding road to my house. When those dropping me home would ask me if it would be ok to drop me there , I would always say “yes” – then as their vehicle would depart I would walk as fast as possible while singing at the top of my voice . I once remember seeing a few jackals scurrying along quite close in the dip beside the road . I was startled out of my wits and took off at top speed not looking back till I reached my doorstep panting like a racehorse. Now you can either believe this or say to yourself that it did not happen but walk on a dark road with jackals beside you and you will know what I mean! I once also saw a ghost of someone who had died in the colony a few years prior to that day – a very nice friendly old man . Those who had lived there at that time would recognize the man from one simple description – he was quite old when he died & he wore a patch over one eye. Nothing major- I was as usual returning from a dance and I saw him cross over in the direction of the house he lived in which was quite close to ours. At this moment I am putting my hand on my heart and swearing that this is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. While on the topic of ghosts let me tell you another incident that happened when we lived in another house adjoining the main hall. It was summer and I was sleeping in the open varandah. It must have been around three in the morning and I was fast asleep on my back. Suddenly I felt a presence and my eyes opened. Standing at the back of the bed and looking over my face at about two feet was a man. My hair stands on end even today so many years later as I key this in so you can be sure this is no exaggeration. He was an old, gaunt looking man, had long hair, a long white beard and moustache but believe it or not – he had the face of a baby . I looked, I froze and shut my eyes. I opened them a millisecond later and he was gone. There was a very famous sweet shop just outside the mail gate of the Thornhill club – the name of the shop was “Hira Halwai”- obviously, the owner’s name was Hira! He sold the tastiest sweets, jalebis and samosas along with a green chutney.He also made Puris and a vegetable – it was nick named Puri Tak. It was chili hot, but the taste was to die for. The milk and curd were the best in Allahabad and during the summer months he sold Lassi as well with a thick layer of cream on the top. Hira’s snacks and sweets were the staple of innumerable parties all over the town. By the way some of the best parties were held in houses in the premises – Anglo Indians know how to party. Most were pound parties where everyone brought a pound of something to eat – this was then put on the table and everyone tucked in all evening – there was always food left over. Many of those I grew up with are still there –some with their children and grandchildren. A large number have migrated to foreign shores and are doing very well for themselves My mother and I had a house there for about forty years – for me that’s a lifetime!

Growing up in Allahabad's Thornhill club

I grew up in the Anglo-Indian Colony in Allahabad and it was a warm, homely sort of place. Spacious and airy, people often joked that it looked like a scene out of the wild west – some sort of a ranch minus the horses and guns! There were a few dogs and at times cows and buffaloes were left to graze by their owners but that added to the rustic charm. Encompassing an area of around one square kilometre, there were around thirty-five Anglo Indian families residing there and any number of servants who worked for them. It was known as the Thornhill Club – the colloquial name was the Bandhwa club! Not sure about the origin of both names. This property comprised a large compound within which were a number of spacious, red colonial type buildings with large gardens and a few other smaller cottages with manicured lawns and potted plants. An unpaved, winding road ran through the centre, large neem trees proved plenty of shade on either side , a lot of greenery and innumerable flowering plants and bushes added colour to every compound and right in the centre was a large hall with ante rooms , wooden flooring , badminton court etc. There were also a few tennis courts, but I never saw anyone play tennis on them. Towards the back of this property and at the end of a steep rugged slope was the “dhobi ghat” where the ‘dhobis’ from all over the town came to wash clothes. They came with their donkeys laden with dirty clothes and then let them out to graze while they toiled on for a few hours daily. Although they were over one hundred meters away, I vividly remember hearing them washing those clothes at the crack of dawn, shouting, and grunting each time they banged the clothes on to the sloping stone washing stands. They even did so unflinchingly during the very chilly Allahabad winters while we were all tucked into bed under tons of warm bedding – not sure if they are still there but they sure slogged on manfully. The Anglo-Indian families in the colony were all easy going, God fearing people who knew each other well. Most had lived there for over twenty-five years or more. At times I felt they knew too much about each other and always tried to learn more. As a young boy I often overheard adult conversations about who was divorcing who , of someone who had got engaged and not invited so and so as the families were not on good terms or of someone else who had stopped going to church as she did not like the new parish priest . No one was rich and no one was poor, and I guess that kept everyone peaceful. There was the usual jealousy and back biting but then no one even today is above reproach on that front. It was quite common to hear a knock on the door at eight am on a Saturday or Sunday morning when a neighbour had just decided to drop in for a cup of tea and a chat (read gossip) .We were not yet fully awake but such was the closeness of the families that no appointments were needed and almost all visits were un announced and without invitation! These visits could last anywhere from half an hour to two hours and at times a makeshift breakfast was rustled up as well and the guest stayed on for some more time. It is pertinent at this juncture to inform you that this entire property had no boundary wall, no fence, no watchman and the one winding road had no lights. At night one navigated the road with the help of a torch or managed with the lights from the houses and compounds which incidentally were switched off by around eleven. Nevertheless, I never heard of any robberies or break ins. Once during the Christmas season , after a few drinks, two hens were stolen by someone and sold to someone else in the same colony but nothing more of note . I have so many vivid memories of those wonderful days – they leave me with a fuzzy feeling even today The hall in the centre of the property was used for weddings, dances, parties, badminton and some miscellaneous meetings. If you knew the families, you were usually invited to the wedding and you just had to walk across. If on the other hand you did not know them, then you sat on your veranda and watched the wedding unfold fifty meters away. It was a nice way to pass the evening. Comments were passed on the number of guests, the quality of music, the aroma from the outdoor cooking, the decoration and even the gowns of the bride and bridesmaids. Some were good while others were rather uncharitable! There were a large number of servants living in the out houses and they usually invited themselves to all weddings with the excuse of helping out .They thus managed to get a free meal which no one begrudged them. If they were lucky, someone gave them a drink too. The dances during Easter, Christmas and New year were big affairs. Over two hundred couples and families bought tickets in advance – some bought them at the door at a premium , the best bands in the town were in attendance , guests dressed in all their finery, and dancing till the wee hours of the morning. Snacks and Liquor were on sale during the show and some people carried their own – no questions were asked. There were the occasional arguments & skirmishes , when undesirable, uninvited, lone, drunk guys tried to force their way into the hall or when someone tried to dance with someone else’s girlfriend or wife ! Needless to add, these gate crashers were fisted and literally shoved out by some of the very tough Anglo Indian gents who manned the door and knew how to use their fists to their advantage when needed. Everything carried on peacefully thereafter. I once saw a chair being thrown across the hall at two young chaps who were trying to force their way in! At times, those who had been refused admission waited for the dance to end and passed uncalled for remarks at those leaving and another fight ensued. On a few occasions the police from the nearby police station were called in but then again – things usually died down pretty soon I too played in the band for many years- first on the drums and then the rhythm guitar – was the lead singer as well. Did if for the thrill and the high, the little fame we presumed was coming our way and of course the money which helped in those difficult days! As a band I must say we were pretty good and quite in demand all over the town. That we were all in our early twenties added to the charm, I guess. Christmas in the club was quite the highlight of the year. Everyone decorated their houses which had been “whitewashed and painted” a few weeks before. Coloured lights, Christmas trees, fancy curtains and blaring music wafting through the air all added to the festive feeling. Carol singers made sure they visited all the houses in the compound in the weeks before Christmas and were welcomed in with snacks and drinks. If it was late, some people hid from them and refused to open the doors much to the chagrin of the poor singers out in the cold! The chilly winters during the vacations saw everyone sitting outside almost all day – wearing layers of clothes to keep themselves warm. Breakfast, lunch & tea were all had outdoors. As soon as the sun began going down, which was around four pm, the chairs were taken in, the doors shut and small coal fires lit. There was no television back then and no internet either, yet no one got bored. There were books to read, board games to play and others  like “I spy and kick the can” – which were quite a hit. Christmas does remind me of one old gentleman – whenever he visited, everyone was on guard because if you offered him snacks and left him alone for a minute , he would empty them into his bag and say Bye before anyone had time to react . But then again – no one was going to tell him to give the items back – it was quite a dirty looking cloth bag in the first place! Visitors during the festive season were aplenty. Every family made Christmas cakes and if you asked for the recipe, they usually told it to you but left out one key ingredient! There were innumerable other goodies all made at home and each family usually had their own speciality. I remember my mother making cakes, yummy fudge and a sweet we called stick jaw – well that is exactly what it did. Made of cooked sugar or jaggery, you could take one ball, put it in your mouth and chew it for hours. The Christmas tree for the kids was another fun evening. Around fifty kids and their parents turned up at around three in the afternoon. Santa Claus arrived by four. The hall was well decorated with balloons, buntings, streamers and coloured lights. A large Christmas tree took centre stage. There were games, dancing, music and snacks. Santa was usually someone from the colony. He arrived by means of the transport available at the time - on a motorcycle or scooter , in a rickshaw, once in a tonga or he just came walking up the slope and ringing his bell from behind the building . He threw sweets for the kids to keep them as far as possible as they tugged at his cape and that often caused quite a stampeded with children rolling in the mud . I was once requested to be Santa Claus but I refused point blank as the year before, some naughty boys had tugged at Santa’s beard and tried to partially disrobe him in the bargain . ! Boys will be boys and they were all of ten years old so you can imagine, wickedness was in their bones. The girls were usually sober and dignified and they simpered and giggled when he arrived or during the gift giving time. The smaller kids howled, cried and were literally dragged by their doting parents to receive their gift from Santa. When they refused to go to Santa or kiss him they were roughed up as well - I thought the whole things was rather sadistic at times. Once the gifts were given out there was gift wrapping paper strewn all over , there were bugles and whistles being blown , drums being beaten , cars being rolled , children running wild in excitement – it was mayhem galore. If we were lucky, a few photographs were taken if someone had a camera – don’t forget this was the pre mobile age – it was the seventies and eighties! Anyway, while the ladies were busy entertaining the kids and seeing to the snacks and games , a few gents would always slip off to have a Chota or two ( If you don’t know what that is you can find out ) . They would then re-enter the hall looking pretty sheepish, especially when their wives asked then where they had been! They also did a lot of smiling and talking when they returned and it was obvious they were all pretty high and happy for it! Rounders and kick the can during the day were other games that the youth indulged in so also seven tiles and a game with a ball called Kings! Boys and girls from other parts of Allahabad would come to play too and those were days of plenty of merriment and general good clean fun Some youth also conducted a badminton tournament every ear – it was a Tin a Bottle tournament – ie you paid a small entry fee of five rupees and you donated a tin or bottle of something edible – that would go towards the prize hampers. Many a lovely evening was spent battling it out on the badminton court in the hall – the wooden flooring is still as good as ever I am told. There was also the occasional Housie but that did not catch on. The compound of the club was quite dark & deserted at night & I was often quite scared when, having played for a dance somewhere in the town , I was dropped at the entrance gate to the large property well past midnight and had to walk about one hundred meters down the winding road to my house. When those dropping me home would ask me if it would be ok to drop me there , I would always say “yes” – then as their vehicle would depart I would walk as fast as possible while singing at the top of my voice . I once remember seeing a few jackals scurrying along quite close in the dip beside the road . I was startled out of my wits and took off at top speed not looking back till I reached my doorstep panting like a racehorse. Now you can either believe this or say to yourself that it did not happen but walk on a dark road with jackals beside you and you will know what I mean! I once also saw a ghost of someone who had died in the colony a few years prior to that day – a very nice friendly old man . Those who had lived there at that time would recognize the man from one simple description – he was quite old when he died & he wore a patch over one eye. Nothing major- I was as usual returning from a dance and I saw him cross over in the direction of the house he lived in which was quite close to ours. At this moment I am putting my hand on my heart and swearing that this is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. While on the topic of ghosts let me tell you another incident that happened when we lived in another house adjoining the main hall. It was summer and I was sleeping in the open varandah. It must have been around three in the morning and I was fast asleep on my back. Suddenly I felt a presence and my eyes opened. Standing at the back of the bed and looking over my face at about two feet was a man. My hair stands on end even today so many years later as I key this in so you can be sure this is no exaggeration. He was an old, gaunt looking man, had long hair, a long white beard and moustache but believe it or not – he had the face of a baby . I looked, I froze and shut my eyes. I opened them a millisecond later and he was gone. There was a very famous sweet shop just outside the mail gate of the Thornhill club – the name of the shop was “Hira Halwai”- obviously, the owner’s name was Hira! He sold the tastiest sweets, jalebis and samosas along with a green chutney.He also made Puris and a vegetable – it was nick named Puri Tak. It was chili hot, but the taste was to die for. The milk and curd were the best in Allahabad and during the summer months he sold Lassi as well with a thick layer of cream on the top. Hira’s snacks and sweets were the staple of innumerable parties all over the town. By the way some of the best parties were held in houses in the premises – Anglo Indians know how to party. Most were pound parties where everyone brought a pound of something to eat – this was then put on the table and everyone tucked in all evening – there was always food left over. Many of those I grew up with are still there –some with their children and grandchildren. A large number have migrated to foreign shores and are doing very well for themselves My mother and I had a house there for about forty years – for me that’s a lifetime!

My brush with the cops

MY BRUSH WITH THE COPS Foolhardy, bold and downright stupid were words that were often used to describe teens when I was growing up and rightly so. This incident happened when I was around 14 – a ripe old age! Allahabad was a one-horse town back then ( it’s better now I am told)- the main market in the area known as Civil Lines closed by eight pm and so you literally had to find exciting things to do – they were out there somewhere – finding them was the crux. Boys being boys, find them we did – sometimes simple enjoyable entertainment like landing up at the wrong wedding and eating dinner ( this is another story ) - at other times something silly / dangerous , much to our utter horror and dismay . However this incident was not a case of ‘all’s well that ends well’ - in fact, to put things in the correct perspective , this incident did not end very well at all - but certainly much better than it could have , if things had spiralled out of control as they are so often apt to – Murphy’s law and all that jazz! Let me set the scene for you. The Girl’s High school where this incident occurred lay mid-way between my friend’s house and mine (this guy is now my brother in law) and so this was a frequently travelled road. It was a girl’s boarding school as well! It was around seven in the evening and dusk was falling. As we cycled from his house to mine, we heard terrific music coming from the school basketball court on the other side. We could not look in as a three-foot high strip of cloth had been fixed over the wall. We did remember however, hearing a few weeks prior to that evening,that the very famous Uma Pocha (sister of the singer Usha Uthup ) would be performing at a dance at this venue . So here we were. The dance was due to start in an hour or so – the band were tuning up their instruments and there was some great free music for two bored teens to listen to – what more could we ask for. However, some added excitement was the need of the hour and that is what we got pretty soon. In order to get a better view of what was going on inside, we rested our bikes against the wall and climbed up. Then by standing on tip toe and pulling the cloth down we had a bird’s eye view of the proceedings . The band members ( the Neophiliacs - whom we recognized and who were the top band in Allahabad ) were busy with their instruments –they were in black suits and bow ties and we envied their luck , round tables with pristine white table cloths , chairs draped with red and white scarves , candles on the tables , balloons and miscellaneous decorations , coloured lights , strobes , the powdered dance floor and Uma Pocha testing the mike in her husky voice – check – check – mike testing one , two three ………. So, this was the good life. We on the other hand were in shorts and T shirts and looking scruffy , sunburnt and sweaty after playing in the sun all day - I had a ladies bike ( I have written about this lovely bike before) , while my pal had a gents bike with no mudguards – he wanted it to look like a racing bike !– I am giving you all these minute details just so that you can compare us with the privileged ones inside ! After surveying the scene for some time, boredom set in and so we decided to raise the bar & take things to the next level. Not sure whose bright idea this was but will not apportion blame . Looking back on this incident decades later I wonder why we were so stupid and why we did what we did in the first place . We got down from the wall, picked up some very tiny pebbles, climbed up back again ( it was quite a struggle as I was short ) and then began throwing the pebbles at the drum set and speakers which were quite close to the wall . We giggled each time we hit the target . We missed and we hit and we missed and we hit. This carried on for about fifteen or twenty minutes. No damage was done but people inside obviously knew that something was amiss across the wall as some pebbles landed on and near the band members as well. Then as we climbed up for the umpteenth time to continue the mischief, all hell broke loose. There was shouting , dozens of men could be heard running down the road in heavy boots calling out to each other ,torch beams zig zagged in all directions , searching for the miscreants on the dark walls , there were shouts of “ catch them “ and “ beat them” in Hindi . We stood no chance against the oncoming assault.( There was some abuse as well but I will leave that out ) My friend jumped down, got onto his cycle and sped off. I was caught and dragged off the wall. One or two canes rained down on by backside - meanwhile my pal, not seeing me, returned! That’s what good friends are for, I guess. He was also caught and we were both smacked and kicked a few times. Then there was the walk of shame and we were pushed & dragged into the school campus through the front gate. What we did not know at that time was that an hour prior to our indiscretion , someone else had pelted the band with large stones and the guards were on the look out from that time – that is how we were nabbed immediately . By now the dance was about to start and there was excitement in the air. The band had struck up a waltz. Well-dressed ladies and gents were walking in, hair set , make up in place , holding hands, smiling and chatting. The scent of their perfume and cologne wafted in our direction. Some looked with disdain as a few guards surrounded & questioned us in anger and everyone could sense there was some confusion. Our families were quite well known in Allahabad and some people who knew us walked by, thankfully without recognizing us. The icing on the cake was us being made to hold our ears and sit on the pavement. At that moment I wished that the earth had opened and swallowed us whole. We were told that the police would be there shortly, and we would be sent to jail. I was terrified and shed a few tears – poor me! Amidst all this tension a bright idea struck me ( I thought it was bright at that time ) . I told the two guards watching over us that we had just thrown one or two pebbles for fun and above all we had no bad intentions as the band members knew us very well and they would vouch for us as we were from respectable families – I also told them to confirm that fact from anyone in the band ( this was the truth by the way and band members knew us ) The band leader who was passing by at that very time was asked if he knew us – I could not believe it when he looked directly at us & said NO! Either he was drunk, angry or blind or a combination of the above. Even at that tender age my temper boiled, and I would have smacked him if he were nearer! Then an angel in the form of the main sponsor of the dance passed by – he was a big shot in the city and later became a Member of Parliament. He looked at two scruffy boys sitting on the pavement in the bright lights – asked what had happened – probably felt sorry and told the guards to free us and usher us out. He warned us never to be seen in that area again that evening. (We would never dare) We were shoved out rather roughly, scurried to find our cycles where we had left them and slunk home. You can bet , we never got into such mischief ever again .

My brush with the cops

MY BRUSH WITH THE COPS Foolhardy, bold and downright stupid were words that were often used to describe teens when I was growing up and rightly so. This incident happened when I was around 14 – a ripe old age! Allahabad was a one-horse town back then ( it’s better now I am told)- the main market in the area known as Civil Lines closed by eight pm and so you literally had to find exciting things to do – they were out there somewhere – finding them was the crux. Boys being boys, find them we did – sometimes simple enjoyable entertainment like landing up at the wrong wedding and eating dinner ( this is another story ) - at other times something silly / dangerous , much to our utter horror and dismay . However this incident was not a case of ‘all’s well that ends well’ - in fact, to put things in the correct perspective , this incident did not end very well at all - but certainly much better than it could have , if things had spiralled out of control as they are so often apt to – Murphy’s law and all that jazz! Let me set the scene for you. The Girl’s High school where this incident occurred lay mid-way between my friend’s house and mine (this guy is now my brother in law) and so this was a frequently travelled road. It was a girl’s boarding school as well! It was around seven in the evening and dusk was falling. As we cycled from his house to mine, we heard terrific music coming from the school basketball court on the other side. We could not look in as a three-foot high strip of cloth had been fixed over the wall. We did remember however, hearing a few weeks prior to that evening,that the very famous Uma Pocha (sister of the singer Usha Uthup ) would be performing at a dance at this venue . So here we were. The dance was due to start in an hour or so – the band were tuning up their instruments and there was some great free music for two bored teens to listen to – what more could we ask for. However, some added excitement was the need of the hour and that is what we got pretty soon. In order to get a better view of what was going on inside, we rested our bikes against the wall and climbed up. Then by standing on tip toe and pulling the cloth down we had a bird’s eye view of the proceedings . The band members ( the Neophiliacs - whom we recognized and who were the top band in Allahabad ) were busy with their instruments –they were in black suits and bow ties and we envied their luck , round tables with pristine white table cloths , chairs draped with red and white scarves , candles on the tables , balloons and miscellaneous decorations , coloured lights , strobes , the powdered dance floor and Uma Pocha testing the mike in her husky voice – check – check – mike testing one , two three ………. So, this was the good life. We on the other hand were in shorts and T shirts and looking scruffy , sunburnt and sweaty after playing in the sun all day - I had a ladies bike ( I have written about this lovely bike before) , while my pal had a gents bike with no mudguards – he wanted it to look like a racing bike !– I am giving you all these minute details just so that you can compare us with the privileged ones inside ! After surveying the scene for some time, boredom set in and so we decided to raise the bar & take things to the next level. Not sure whose bright idea this was but will not apportion blame . Looking back on this incident decades later I wonder why we were so stupid and why we did what we did in the first place . We got down from the wall, picked up some very tiny pebbles, climbed up back again ( it was quite a struggle as I was short ) and then began throwing the pebbles at the drum set and speakers which were quite close to the wall . We giggled each time we hit the target . We missed and we hit and we missed and we hit. This carried on for about fifteen or twenty minutes. No damage was done but people inside obviously knew that something was amiss across the wall as some pebbles landed on and near the band members as well. Then as we climbed up for the umpteenth time to continue the mischief, all hell broke loose. There was shouting , dozens of men could be heard running down the road in heavy boots calling out to each other ,torch beams zig zagged in all directions , searching for the miscreants on the dark walls , there were shouts of “ catch them “ and “ beat them” in Hindi . We stood no chance against the oncoming assault.( There was some abuse as well but I will leave that out ) My friend jumped down, got onto his cycle and sped off. I was caught and dragged off the wall. One or two canes rained down on by backside - meanwhile my pal, not seeing me, returned! That’s what good friends are for, I guess. He was also caught and we were both smacked and kicked a few times. Then there was the walk of shame and we were pushed & dragged into the school campus through the front gate. What we did not know at that time was that an hour prior to our indiscretion , someone else had pelted the band with large stones and the guards were on the look out from that time – that is how we were nabbed immediately . By now the dance was about to start and there was excitement in the air. The band had struck up a waltz. Well-dressed ladies and gents were walking in, hair set , make up in place , holding hands, smiling and chatting. The scent of their perfume and cologne wafted in our direction. Some looked with disdain as a few guards surrounded & questioned us in anger and everyone could sense there was some confusion. Our families were quite well known in Allahabad and some people who knew us walked by, thankfully without recognizing us. The icing on the cake was us being made to hold our ears and sit on the pavement. At that moment I wished that the earth had opened and swallowed us whole. We were told that the police would be there shortly, and we would be sent to jail. I was terrified and shed a few tears – poor me! Amidst all this tension a bright idea struck me ( I thought it was bright at that time ) . I told the two guards watching over us that we had just thrown one or two pebbles for fun and above all we had no bad intentions as the band members knew us very well and they would vouch for us as we were from respectable families – I also told them to confirm that fact from anyone in the band ( this was the truth by the way and band members knew us ) The band leader who was passing by at that very time was asked if he knew us – I could not believe it when he looked directly at us & said NO! Either he was drunk, angry or blind or a combination of the above. Even at that tender age my temper boiled, and I would have smacked him if he were nearer! Then an angel in the form of the main sponsor of the dance passed by – he was a big shot in the city and later became a Member of Parliament. He looked at two scruffy boys sitting on the pavement in the bright lights – asked what had happened – probably felt sorry and told the guards to free us and usher us out. He warned us never to be seen in that area again that evening. (We would never dare) We were shoved out rather roughly, scurried to find our cycles where we had left them and slunk home. You can bet , we never got into such mischief ever again .

Once upon a time ....I was a naughty school boy!

Once upon a time – in a land far away – I was a naughty school boy too ! So, I was not always a good little boy! Not bad – but certainly not an angel. How is that for a beginning? Well, I studied in the Boys High school and college from grade eight till grade eleven and thoroughly enjoyed my time there. It was an all boys’ school in the heart of the city and the pupils came from in and around Allahabad. It was a day cum boarding school and the boarders were the toughies. Most of the boxers, athletes and boys is school teams were boarders. It was a great school and pupils who passed out were ready to face the world. However, in my last two years in school, like many others, I did get into my fair share of trouble as well. The school disciplinarian was known as the Sergeant and he was rather strict. So, if you did not have the right hair cut and by that I meant really short , arrived even a minute late for school , were not dressed appropriately , had dirty shoes , played truant etc you got six of the best and mind you , he had a strong arm . Many boys were dropped to school by their parents on scooters and by cars and they were punished in front of them as and when/ if needed. There were no quarters asked and none given. The Sergeant smiled while delivering the punishment which could be a few shots with his famous cane, being made to jump up and down while holding one’s ears or being literally lifted off the ground when he caught hold of our extra long sideburns ! At times he chatted with the parents while punishing their sons. That surely was a joke in poor tastebut no one complained! Surprisingly, he was very well loved by the boys and no one bore him any malice. As for the parents – they begged him to discipline their boys . However, we as a senior class were a trifle wild if that is the correct term – will leave you to judge. As boys were not allowed to carry footballs to school , we kicked around anything and everything during the break – it could be someone’s tiffin box, a plastic ball, a large marble or even stones wrapped in a sock . You can imagine – 12 boys of varying sizes, in a senior class, running wild in a narrow corridor ,playing this version of football. The result was broken furniture, damaged walls, broken lights and fans and the like – not to mention shins and ankles that took quite beating and clothes that were ruined. We were often hauled up and punished for this childish behaviour, but I guess we were thick skinned and defiant and so the games continued unabated. Slipping out of school during the lunch break and not returning was also indulged in. This was if we had periods where we knew the teacher was lenient. If we never got caught all was well and time was spent enjoyably chatting and stealing (at times buying) plums, guavas and raw mangoes from the villagers in the fields a few hundred meters away. When we got caught – things turned out badly and we paid the penalty manfully. Crying would make us the laughing stock of the school so there were no tea. However, all these were minor infringements compared to an incident that will be etched in my mind forever. If the doctor had not arrived on time I may not have been here keying in this article . There was a boy in our class- very well behaved, smartly dressed and a trifle reserved, who carried very tasty tiffin to school daily. It looked good, he seemed to relish it while eating & above all it gave off an amazing aroma. The kababs , puris , and sweets dishes were to die for . However, I do not remember him ever offering us – I could be wrong. Initially, on a few occasions and just for fun, a few of us stole his tiffin when he had left the class and finished it before he returned. He was obviously frustrated when this became a habit. For about a fortnight thereafter, he went home hungry as we had polished off his tiffin and there was very little, he could do about it. In those days, no one complained to the teacher – that was unheard of and no one went home and complained to parents either – that was just not done. You would be called a sissy. However, complain he did, to a young lady relative in his house and they planned to put an end to this bullying once and for all. They hatched a plan and what a plan it was. For some days he guarded his tiffin, almost with his life and we were unable to get our hands on it much to our dismay. Despite our best efforts, and all our devious attempts to distract him and steal the tiffin, we failed. However now when I think back, we were devils incarnate and we refused to accept defeat! Then one day he came to school with his tiffin as usual and put it in his desk in a rather nonchalant manner. Now if we were smart enough, we should have smelt a rat. However, our stomachs ruled and we fell for the trap. Leaving the tiffin in an open desk , he went out of the classroom during the tea break that day . We were determined to teach him a lesson for all the days of his being extra careful and so, in the ten minutes he was out , his tiffin was picked up( by me on that fateful day) , the food shared out- devoured within a few minutes and the empty tiffin put back . If I remember rightly the loot was shared between five of us. It was a seamless operation and we were thrilled. He returned, looked at the empty tiffin, surprisingly said nothing - class got over for the day and he left. Before I come to what happened thereafter, let me tell you what he had brought for tiffin that day. It was the most yummy “soogi halwa and puris “a sweet dish made of Semolina for the uninitiated! Well, about fifteen minutes thereafter all five of us felt a distinct rumbling in the stomach and literally ran towards the school toilets. Let me tell you while keeping this clean – we were there for about thirty minutes and could hardly walk with weakness after that. Somehow, I cycled home as did the others and without a word, threw the cycle down and ran to the toilet again. To cut a long story short it was food poisoning of the worst possible kind and I spent a large part of the evening and the next day oscillating between the toilet and my bed. By the time the doctor came home to visit me the next afternoon, I was too weak to move and on the verge of collapse. A few injections and tablets and two days in bed and I was soon walking – weak, wobbly but luckily alive. Yes it was that serious. All others faced a similar predicament in varying degrees. I guess because I was the weakest and thinnest, I fared the worst. The enquires then began and all of us blurted out the truth at our respective homes. Further investigation was carried out of what we had eaten and the truth was soon out. Despite being so weak we were all scolded and punished for bad behaviour. In my weak state I wondered what I would tell the Sergeant when I saw him next! (Coming back to the incident - our friend had confided in his relative as to how he had been literally bullied for days and with her help they had mixed something rather nasty in the food. The rest was history and it could have ended badly. Despite what had happened, there were no reports filed, no complaints made and the matter ended as quickly as it had begun . The school year ended as well, and we all went our separate ways. About forty years later guess who I meet? You guessed it right – my friend whose food we had been stealing eons ago. The whole episode came flooding back in minutest detail. Incidentally today we are both in the same country as well and have laughed over this matter on quite a few occasions. He is a well-established, dignified gentleman but he remembers the incident too . I promised him I would put the story up without naming names – and we all know that the fault was ours to begin with. I guess let me say it openly on behalf of all the other rascals – Sorry ……………..!! Before I end let me share something else which is equally interesting - he has also promised to get his wife to make a similar dish for me anytime I choose and he has promised to eat it with me ! All’s well that ends well !

Once upon a time ....I was a naughty school boy!

Once upon a time – in a land far away – I was a naughty school boy too ! So, I was not always a good little boy! Not bad – but certainly not an angel. How is that for a beginning? Well, I studied in the Boys High school and college from grade eight till grade eleven and thoroughly enjoyed my time there. It was an all boys’ school in the heart of the city and the pupils came from in and around Allahabad. It was a day cum boarding school and the boarders were the toughies. Most of the boxers, athletes and boys is school teams were boarders. It was a great school and pupils who passed out were ready to face the world. However, in my last two years in school, like many others, I did get into my fair share of trouble as well. The school disciplinarian was known as the Sergeant and he was rather strict. So, if you did not have the right hair cut and by that I meant really short , arrived even a minute late for school , were not dressed appropriately , had dirty shoes , played truant etc you got six of the best and mind you , he had a strong arm . Many boys were dropped to school by their parents on scooters and by cars and they were punished in front of them as and when/ if needed. There were no quarters asked and none given. The Sergeant smiled while delivering the punishment which could be a few shots with his famous cane, being made to jump up and down while holding one’s ears or being literally lifted off the ground when he caught hold of our extra long sideburns ! At times he chatted with the parents while punishing their sons. That surely was a joke in poor tastebut no one complained! Surprisingly, he was very well loved by the boys and no one bore him any malice. As for the parents – they begged him to discipline their boys . However, we as a senior class were a trifle wild if that is the correct term – will leave you to judge. As boys were not allowed to carry footballs to school , we kicked around anything and everything during the break – it could be someone’s tiffin box, a plastic ball, a large marble or even stones wrapped in a sock . You can imagine – 12 boys of varying sizes, in a senior class, running wild in a narrow corridor ,playing this version of football. The result was broken furniture, damaged walls, broken lights and fans and the like – not to mention shins and ankles that took quite beating and clothes that were ruined. We were often hauled up and punished for this childish behaviour, but I guess we were thick skinned and defiant and so the games continued unabated. Slipping out of school during the lunch break and not returning was also indulged in. This was if we had periods where we knew the teacher was lenient. If we never got caught all was well and time was spent enjoyably chatting and stealing (at times buying) plums, guavas and raw mangoes from the villagers in the fields a few hundred meters away. When we got caught – things turned out badly and we paid the penalty manfully. Crying would make us the laughing stock of the school so there were no tea. However, all these were minor infringements compared to an incident that will be etched in my mind forever. If the doctor had not arrived on time I may not have been here keying in this article . There was a boy in our class- very well behaved, smartly dressed and a trifle reserved, who carried very tasty tiffin to school daily. It looked good, he seemed to relish it while eating & above all it gave off an amazing aroma. The kababs , puris , and sweets dishes were to die for . However, I do not remember him ever offering us – I could be wrong. Initially, on a few occasions and just for fun, a few of us stole his tiffin when he had left the class and finished it before he returned. He was obviously frustrated when this became a habit. For about a fortnight thereafter, he went home hungry as we had polished off his tiffin and there was very little, he could do about it. In those days, no one complained to the teacher – that was unheard of and no one went home and complained to parents either – that was just not done. You would be called a sissy. However, complain he did, to a young lady relative in his house and they planned to put an end to this bullying once and for all. They hatched a plan and what a plan it was. For some days he guarded his tiffin, almost with his life and we were unable to get our hands on it much to our dismay. Despite our best efforts, and all our devious attempts to distract him and steal the tiffin, we failed. However now when I think back, we were devils incarnate and we refused to accept defeat! Then one day he came to school with his tiffin as usual and put it in his desk in a rather nonchalant manner. Now if we were smart enough, we should have smelt a rat. However, our stomachs ruled and we fell for the trap. Leaving the tiffin in an open desk , he went out of the classroom during the tea break that day . We were determined to teach him a lesson for all the days of his being extra careful and so, in the ten minutes he was out , his tiffin was picked up( by me on that fateful day) , the food shared out- devoured within a few minutes and the empty tiffin put back . If I remember rightly the loot was shared between five of us. It was a seamless operation and we were thrilled. He returned, looked at the empty tiffin, surprisingly said nothing - class got over for the day and he left. Before I come to what happened thereafter, let me tell you what he had brought for tiffin that day. It was the most yummy “soogi halwa and puris “a sweet dish made of Semolina for the uninitiated! Well, about fifteen minutes thereafter all five of us felt a distinct rumbling in the stomach and literally ran towards the school toilets. Let me tell you while keeping this clean – we were there for about thirty minutes and could hardly walk with weakness after that. Somehow, I cycled home as did the others and without a word, threw the cycle down and ran to the toilet again. To cut a long story short it was food poisoning of the worst possible kind and I spent a large part of the evening and the next day oscillating between the toilet and my bed. By the time the doctor came home to visit me the next afternoon, I was too weak to move and on the verge of collapse. A few injections and tablets and two days in bed and I was soon walking – weak, wobbly but luckily alive. Yes it was that serious. All others faced a similar predicament in varying degrees. I guess because I was the weakest and thinnest, I fared the worst. The enquires then began and all of us blurted out the truth at our respective homes. Further investigation was carried out of what we had eaten and the truth was soon out. Despite being so weak we were all scolded and punished for bad behaviour. In my weak state I wondered what I would tell the Sergeant when I saw him next! (Coming back to the incident - our friend had confided in his relative as to how he had been literally bullied for days and with her help they had mixed something rather nasty in the food. The rest was history and it could have ended badly. Despite what had happened, there were no reports filed, no complaints made and the matter ended as quickly as it had begun . The school year ended as well, and we all went our separate ways. About forty years later guess who I meet? You guessed it right – my friend whose food we had been stealing eons ago. The whole episode came flooding back in minutest detail. Incidentally today we are both in the same country as well and have laughed over this matter on quite a few occasions. He is a well-established, dignified gentleman but he remembers the incident too . I promised him I would put the story up without naming names – and we all know that the fault was ours to begin with. I guess let me say it openly on behalf of all the other rascals – Sorry ……………..!! Before I end let me share something else which is equally interesting - he has also promised to get his wife to make a similar dish for me anytime I choose and he has promised to eat it with me ! All’s well that ends well !

Musings on a Saturday morning

Is this machine making my life easier like they said it would? Or am I just drawn to if for the lack of something better to do right now? So, I sit and stare out aimlessly at times ….is this what boredom actually is ? Through large panes of glass that definitely need a wash .. I press my nose up against windows that crave to be opened I stand on the balcony and breathe - my only real connection with the outside world I suddenly think of Mandela – Twenty-seven years in solitary confinement He endured the obvious suffering calmly and emerged stronger A young soccer team stranded in an underground cave – seventeen days of misery, torture & fear The rescue was a miracle against all odds The boys then emerged - relieved and smiling but scarred for life The very thought makes me shudder My claustrophobia would have got the better of me And here we are- frustrated after a month Seemingly suffocating in helplessness How weak some of us are! How very strong some others! The television has begun to jar on my nerves And the newspapers even more Sensationalism rules and spreads panic. STOP IT . And what do I see when I peer out, ever so often? Large car parks with a few dusty cars therein No one fighting and circling to find that elusive empty slot. Delivery boys from the supermarket next door going about their daily chores All masked, gloved and cycling – they toil on bravely And then there are the food delivery boys as well Speeding along and thankful for empty roads - and safety Red, blue and black boxes strapped firmly on their motorcycles Feeding the multitudes who are too bored or lazy to cook Pigeons in droves, cooing & fluttering on the pavement below And every now and then one is devoured by cats on the prowl The circle of life – the law of the jungle Then there are those determined to break the rules I spot the regulars – refusing to stay home - they creep around corners Hoping and praying not to be seen – but I see them! It’s a silly pastime I have begun to enjoy And I wonder when they will be spotted & caught and held accountable Morning tea- breakfast, lunch, evening tea and dinner – snacks in between Food and drinks are shortening the day – not right I know Am I even giving my exercise a chance! What do I do now? Is it lunch time already?