The Anglo Indian Colony , Allahabad

 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 aproximately 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 other games 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!

The Anglo Indian Colony , Allahabad

 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 aproximately 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 other games 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!

Not the ordinary flu

 Covid is not just an 'ordinary flu ' It's not only' others' who will get it - any of us can. It cares not for rich or poor, religion, caste, creed or nationality . By taking your vitamins and booster meals and exercising you do not become immune . You can be 20, 40 or 80 and still get infected. Your gender is of no consequence. By staying indoors you are a trifle safer but still not immune . Finally, by taking the vaccine you won't die, catch the disease, get crippled, become a vegetable or start talking another language . It's just another layer of protection till the so called herd immunity kicks in. Forget about efficacy, make and how strong you think you are . Covid mocks such silly stuff. Use common sense, a little intelligence and protect yourself and your loved ones. Do not fall prey to rumour mongering or conspiracy theorists. Lastly , if you are frightened or apprehensive for any reason , keep that within your four walls. That is your right and no one can take it from you. Spreading negativity however is wrong and utterly toxic. It does no good for anyone so refraining from doing so is good for society at large.

Not the ordinary flu

 Covid is not just an 'ordinary flu ' It's not only' others' who will get it - any of us can. It cares not for rich or poor, religion, caste, creed or nationality . By taking your vitamins and booster meals and exercising you do not become immune . You can be 20, 40 or 80 and still get infected. Your gender is of no consequence. By staying indoors you are a trifle safer but still not immune . Finally, by taking the vaccine you won't die, catch the disease, get crippled, become a vegetable or start talking another language . It's just another layer of protection till the so called herd immunity kicks in. Forget about efficacy, make and how strong you think you are . Covid mocks such silly stuff. Use common sense, a little intelligence and protect yourself and your loved ones. Do not fall prey to rumour mongering or conspiracy theorists. Lastly , if you are frightened or apprehensive for any reason , keep that within your four walls. That is your right and no one can take it from you. Spreading negativity however is wrong and utterly toxic. It does no good for anyone so refraining from doing so is good for society at large.

I was often wound up

 

It kicks off when you are barley a few months old – People wind you up for no reason. At times they do not know they are doing it, while at others, it is just plain absurdity.

Imagine this scenario.

You are a gurgling infant - just a few months old – in swaddling clothes, feeling all hot and bothered- at times you have a stomachache. Your nappy is wet or often, probably soiled- there are all sorts of fancy items hanging all round your bassinet and there is your uncle or aunt , smiling into your face, waving a noisy rattle, and saying, “clap hands for mama’’, while other relatives look on, and try to fathom out if you are deaf, blind or just plain dumb.

Now if that is not winding you up, then what is?

It may be slightly exaggerated, but you get the point, don’t you?

As a kid and then as a young adult, I have had my fair share of winding up.

Here is the next.

We lived in a sort of joint family so there were a few adults at home, besides my two cousins.

 Am sitting at home, minding my business, and getting on with my life- then friends arrive – theirs not mine!

I suppose, after the adults got bored and had nothing more to discuss, and no one else to gossip about (and who doesn’t gossip) the topic of the kids came up. I had two female cousins and that complicated the equation.

“Where are the kids – everything is so quiet. Get them to say a poem or something for us- they are so sweet”.

Hearing something to that effect was enough to charge me up.

I would try and slip out of the house unannounced, before the ‘call came’, in vain.

 Now my cousins, who I always felt were rather vain, loved to entertain, and being the pretty little girls that they were, they were often the centre of attraction. So, we would be lined up, which for me was like facing a firing squad - and then the poems would begin. I was usually the last, but I would recite a poem just to get the wretched thing over and done with.  The two girls would bow, smile  and curtesy cutely, before and after reciting, and were hugged,  kissed and clapped for, while I would get a “that was nice Michael ” comment.

Just as I would surmise that the ordeal was over, I would hear “what about a song”. “come on- give us a song”

Now I had a good voice, and I knew it, but by then my mood would be off,- singing and entertaining others, would be the last thing on my mind. I would rather be playing outside with my friends who I could hear, were enjoying themselves . However, that was not to be.

Now here is something I just remembered, and pardon the diversion.

 I had got my mid- term report card that very day and had not yet shown it to my mother as the results were not flattering – in fact, they were far from satisfactory. It was a “Red card”,which signified that I had failed! I had tucked it away, and was avoiding any conversation of school, studies, homework, books, tests, or results, till I fathomed out what to do with it.

 I will tell you that story someday.  

So back to my original story- the guests, and one of them was a teacher who taught me, were not satisfied with the poem & were in the mood to hear us sing. As was expected to happen, after the tea, snacks and chatting was over, the entertainment industry at home went into overdrive.

“Get the kids to sing” was what I heard.

Without so much as a ‘by your leave’, I vamoosed into the compound, but before I could make my hurried escape, I was called back.

Now imagine the scenario and my plight.

 I had been trying to keep a low profile all day – in fact, I had spent more time out of the house than in, and had been on my best behaviour- running errands, making the beds, helping tidy up, washing cups, making the tea etc. Now- not only was there was a teacher seated in the hall, but he taught me Mathematics, and was also my class teacher. That is not all- I had flunked in Math and Hindi, and he had signed the report card. As such, he had all the details at his fingertips. Now do not get me wrong – he was a very nice man,all gentle and unassuming ,but sometimes, even nice men speak when not actually asked to and I had a premonition tat would happen.  

So, once again, let me get back to the original story.

The three of us lined up and each sang a song. My cousins, as usual, sang before me. The also danced while singing, swayed to the rhythm and also did a duet without being asked to, as they were often over excited.

I still remember the name of the song – it was “Sisters” .

The words went something like this.

 “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters”.

Whenever they sang that song, I would stand at the back of the room , and make funny faces and actions to mock them! They hated me doing that and complained bitterly. It made no difference to me.

Then, finally it was my turn. I sang a song and imagined that was the end, but it was not to be.  Here were some of the comments.

‘’ Why didn’t you smile Michael’’?

‘’You’re so stiff my boy ‘’

‘’See how nicely your cousins danced while singing’’?

“Sing again for aunty and uncle and Sir”.

I felt like pulling my cousins’ hair out for overdoing their part, but it was now their turn to laugh, tease and giggle. So, I had to sing another song, smile, and sway along to the best of my ability.  It was unadulterated torture.

By now I was really wound up and wished that a hole opened up in the ground before me, and swallowed me whole.

Then Murphy’s law kicked in, and it was the icing on the cake. The teacher in all his wisdom looked at me and said, “So Michael, what did mummy and aunty think  of your report card this time ? ”.

He added some more pearls of wisdom, “You must study hard during this summer vacation,if not you will fail at the end of the year”

 Needless to add, all hell broke loose thereafter, and the evening did not end well but that is another story.

As I grew into my teen years, I remember accompanying the adults in the family to parties and dances. Now I was rather shy and would have preferred to stay at home and listen to the radio or read. Yes, there were no mobile phones, computers, or television sets back then! But no – I had to dress up and tag along much to my annoyance.

Then came the usual comments from silly adults at the show as they danced past me –

‘’ Come on Mike - Get up and dance”.

“There are so many pretty girls sitting down – don’t be a stick in the mud”.

“Don’t let good music go to waste young man”.

“Stop behaving so badly- so many people are asking you to dance”( from my mother )

To say that adults wound me up often would be putting it mildly.

However, thinking back now, decades later, I presume that unintentional winding up (which I believe it was) stood me in good stead as an adult .

People have tried to wind me up and failed miserably in the attempt- for that I must thank all those who irritated me over the years!

God bless their good souls.

I was often wound up

 

It kicks off when you are barley a few months old – People wind you up for no reason. At times they do not know they are doing it, while at others, it is just plain absurdity.

Imagine this scenario.

You are a gurgling infant - just a few months old – in swaddling clothes, feeling all hot and bothered- at times you have a stomachache. Your nappy is wet or often, probably soiled- there are all sorts of fancy items hanging all round your bassinet and there is your uncle or aunt , smiling into your face, waving a noisy rattle, and saying, “clap hands for mama’’, while other relatives look on, and try to fathom out if you are deaf, blind or just plain dumb.

Now if that is not winding you up, then what is?

It may be slightly exaggerated, but you get the point, don’t you?

As a kid and then as a young adult, I have had my fair share of winding up.

Here is the next.

We lived in a sort of joint family so there were a few adults at home, besides my two cousins.

 Am sitting at home, minding my business, and getting on with my life- then friends arrive – theirs not mine!

I suppose, after the adults got bored and had nothing more to discuss, and no one else to gossip about (and who doesn’t gossip) the topic of the kids came up. I had two female cousins and that complicated the equation.

“Where are the kids – everything is so quiet. Get them to say a poem or something for us- they are so sweet”.

Hearing something to that effect was enough to charge me up.

I would try and slip out of the house unannounced, before the ‘call came’, in vain.

 Now my cousins, who I always felt were rather vain, loved to entertain, and being the pretty little girls that they were, they were often the centre of attraction. So, we would be lined up, which for me was like facing a firing squad - and then the poems would begin. I was usually the last, but I would recite a poem just to get the wretched thing over and done with.  The two girls would bow, smile  and curtesy cutely, before and after reciting, and were hugged,  kissed and clapped for, while I would get a “that was nice Michael ” comment.

Just as I would surmise that the ordeal was over, I would hear “what about a song”. “come on- give us a song”

Now I had a good voice, and I knew it, but by then my mood would be off,- singing and entertaining others, would be the last thing on my mind. I would rather be playing outside with my friends who I could hear, were enjoying themselves . However, that was not to be.

Now here is something I just remembered, and pardon the diversion.

 I had got my mid- term report card that very day and had not yet shown it to my mother as the results were not flattering – in fact, they were far from satisfactory. It was a “Red card”,which signified that I had failed! I had tucked it away, and was avoiding any conversation of school, studies, homework, books, tests, or results, till I fathomed out what to do with it.

 I will tell you that story someday.  

So back to my original story- the guests, and one of them was a teacher who taught me, were not satisfied with the poem & were in the mood to hear us sing. As was expected to happen, after the tea, snacks and chatting was over, the entertainment industry at home went into overdrive.

“Get the kids to sing” was what I heard.

Without so much as a ‘by your leave’, I vamoosed into the compound, but before I could make my hurried escape, I was called back.

Now imagine the scenario and my plight.

 I had been trying to keep a low profile all day – in fact, I had spent more time out of the house than in, and had been on my best behaviour- running errands, making the beds, helping tidy up, washing cups, making the tea etc. Now- not only was there was a teacher seated in the hall, but he taught me Mathematics, and was also my class teacher. That is not all- I had flunked in Math and Hindi, and he had signed the report card. As such, he had all the details at his fingertips. Now do not get me wrong – he was a very nice man,all gentle and unassuming ,but sometimes, even nice men speak when not actually asked to and I had a premonition tat would happen.  

So, once again, let me get back to the original story.

The three of us lined up and each sang a song. My cousins, as usual, sang before me. The also danced while singing, swayed to the rhythm and also did a duet without being asked to, as they were often over excited.

I still remember the name of the song – it was “Sisters” .

The words went something like this.

 “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters”.

Whenever they sang that song, I would stand at the back of the room , and make funny faces and actions to mock them! They hated me doing that and complained bitterly. It made no difference to me.

Then, finally it was my turn. I sang a song and imagined that was the end, but it was not to be.  Here were some of the comments.

‘’ Why didn’t you smile Michael’’?

‘’You’re so stiff my boy ‘’

‘’See how nicely your cousins danced while singing’’?

“Sing again for aunty and uncle and Sir”.

I felt like pulling my cousins’ hair out for overdoing their part, but it was now their turn to laugh, tease and giggle. So, I had to sing another song, smile, and sway along to the best of my ability.  It was unadulterated torture.

By now I was really wound up and wished that a hole opened up in the ground before me, and swallowed me whole.

Then Murphy’s law kicked in, and it was the icing on the cake. The teacher in all his wisdom looked at me and said, “So Michael, what did mummy and aunty think  of your report card this time ? ”.

He added some more pearls of wisdom, “You must study hard during this summer vacation,if not you will fail at the end of the year”

 Needless to add, all hell broke loose thereafter, and the evening did not end well but that is another story.

As I grew into my teen years, I remember accompanying the adults in the family to parties and dances. Now I was rather shy and would have preferred to stay at home and listen to the radio or read. Yes, there were no mobile phones, computers, or television sets back then! But no – I had to dress up and tag along much to my annoyance.

Then came the usual comments from silly adults at the show as they danced past me –

‘’ Come on Mike - Get up and dance”.

“There are so many pretty girls sitting down – don’t be a stick in the mud”.

“Don’t let good music go to waste young man”.

“Stop behaving so badly- so many people are asking you to dance”( from my mother )

To say that adults wound me up often would be putting it mildly.

However, thinking back now, decades later, I presume that unintentional winding up (which I believe it was) stood me in good stead as an adult .

People have tried to wind me up and failed miserably in the attempt- for that I must thank all those who irritated me over the years!

God bless their good souls.

My man cave

 

So, all my life I have been surrounded by women.

Now wait – that may give you the wrong impression- I am no Don Juan- please let me explain.

As a young boy it was my mother –who had many lady friends who often visited - then there was my aunt and her friends – then two female cousins who lived with us - and yes there were a few neighbourhood girls thrown in for good measure. There were boys in the colony too but that is a different story for another time.

Then I got married – one wife (obviously) and two daughters – good young women now and nothing wrong with that. The next thing I knew was, that a kitten had been brought into the household. I was not sure how to differentiate between a male and a female kitten, so I did the next best thing – I asked. You got it right – It is a female and I am crazy about her.

Lastly, I am in the teaching profession – have been so all my life. Now as you know, teachers and even Principals these days are mostly female. Hence even at work, its mostly women. Now don’t get me wrong once again – am not complaining as such, but it has just been and still is women, women, WOMEN!

However, to come to the point – I finally, I got up this morning and said it loud and clear to myself – I WANT A MAN CAVE and I WANT IT NOW!

We have a three bedroom flat and as there is one spare bedroom – this was a brilliant idea & why not? I need a sanctuary to think, to write, to read and in general to have some ME time! I have also read that it improves emotional health.

So here was the plan, made at around 5 am when I do all my planning!

I would first need to get rid of the junk in the room – the double bed, the bedside lamps, the dressing table, the boxes packed with stuff that was bought and never used, the packing cases with old clothes to be given away. The next was to decide what needed to go into “my man cave’’.

Now before executing any plan – however simple – it is always a wise proposition to pass it by the ladies in the house – all married men know this.

So, I did that as they woke – I think I got the timing slightly wrong.

So here is what my wife and younger daughter had to say.

Wife

1.       Why do you suddenly need a man cave?

2.        We cannot waste a room.

3.       Take the washing machine room (You can’t swing a cat in there)

4.       You are too old for a man cave.

5.       Stop it.

6.       OK go make one – better for us. It is good.  

Daughter

1.       Please have it – you have your own TV there and we can watch our programmes in peace.

2.       More peace for us too.

I was ecstatic!

So, this was the well thought out plan.

I will have my own room – MY MAN CAVE. I will have my TV, (have seen one that has caught my fancy), my Lazy boy recliner, my working table with my laptop, printer, scanner etc, my guitars and my bar and a small fridge.  I plan to add in some exercise equipment too. I suggested buying a dart board some weeks ago but that was shot down as being too dangerous (not sure for who). I will have a shelf with some books and a cupboard with my clothes and a couple of bean bags.

 As you see- all simple pleasures.

Someone once joked and suggested I purchase an expensive toolbox. However, I have said this before, and I am saying it again for the record  – I am NOT a handy man. So, putting nails into the wall, mending fuses, servicing the air conditioner or the gas cooker, screwing in nuts and bolts, repairing electronic equipment, repairing broken furniture etc is not up my street – in fact, it is nowhere on my horizon. I recently disconnected the TV for a stupid experiment and then tried to connect it back – I could not & we had nothing to see for two days till I got someone to fix it.

So, there will be no toolbox, no box with nuts, nails, screws, washers and bolts, no power drill, no working bench - nothing of that sort.   Everything was moving well- My list was ready – I had bathed & dressed, had a healthy breakfast, done the grocery shopping, brought all the items the family needed, and was ready to go & purchase my new television.

Then my elder daughter and her husband walked in. This was unexpected as it was rather early. The first thing my wife told them was about my plan for the man cave. Women can’t keep anything in, and they must blurt it out at the first instance. In my wife’s family they have perfected the art of sharing news with each other !

My daughter listened and there was no expression on her face. Then here is what my daughter said, and I will quote verbatim.

“That’s such a nice idea daddy, but once I have my baby we will be staying here over night quite often, at least during the first six months , so the room will not be empty .

I smiled as all good dads do and said, “are you having a girl”?

“Wait and see’’, was her answer.

Grandad to be will just have to wait.

My man cave will have to wait too.