The good old DOOLIE

 I went to the fridge last evening and as I opened it, it got me thinking. I wonder if I am alone, or do any of you have these idiotic thoughts too.

Whatever the size of your fridge, it is never big enough and always seems packed to capacity.

There is always ice in the ice tray. However, when there is a get together, that ice tray is more often than not, empty. I cannot seem to fathom this out, as no one at home has anything with ice in it!

What do vegetarians keep in the freezer compartment? Often wondered about this too.

I often see limes, small chocolates and even medicines in the egg tray.

If there are too many things on the topmost shelf of a large fridge, the lower shelves look dark

The bulbs – oh those bulbs which fuse so easily

Have you ever opened your fridge to put something in – then the cat jumps in – then you close the fridge and cannot find the cat – then you realize it may be in the fridge- you go and check – and sure, it is! (Please tell me that this has happened with someone) This then called for a complete emptying and cleaning.

Here is something else.

Do any of you even remember how families managed before Refrigerators came into existence?

We had an item of furniture at home called a Dooley. Have you heard of the word or seen / owned one? Maybe your parents did- so you can ask them to enlighten you !

“Most families in the 60’s and 70’s had a ‘dooley’ or meat safe & it was a compulsory piece of furniture in many Indian homes. They were wooden storage cupboards with wire mesh on all four sides. Cooked food, milk, and vegetables was usually stored in them to keep fresh overnight. The ‘Meat Safe was also quite necessary to protect the food from cats, mice, and insects as well. In order to deter ants from crawling up and attacking the food, the four legs of the Meat Safe were placed in four small containers of water. Another name for the meat safe was ‘DOOLEY’

As for cold water , we had the 'surahi' - the earthen clay pot which kept the water cool - it tasted good too .

The good old DOOLIE

 I went to the fridge last evening and as I opened it, it got me thinking. I wonder if I am alone, or do any of you have these idiotic thoughts too.

Whatever the size of your fridge, it is never big enough and always seems packed to capacity.

There is always ice in the ice tray. However, when there is a get together, that ice tray is more often than not, empty. I cannot seem to fathom this out, as no one at home has anything with ice in it!

What do vegetarians keep in the freezer compartment? Often wondered about this too.

I often see limes, small chocolates and even medicines in the egg tray.

If there are too many things on the topmost shelf of a large fridge, the lower shelves look dark

The bulbs – oh those bulbs which fuse so easily

Have you ever opened your fridge to put something in – then the cat jumps in – then you close the fridge and cannot find the cat – then you realize it may be in the fridge- you go and check – and sure, it is! (Please tell me that this has happened with someone) This then called for a complete emptying and cleaning.

Here is something else.

Do any of you even remember how families managed before Refrigerators came into existence?

We had an item of furniture at home called a Dooley. Have you heard of the word or seen / owned one? Maybe your parents did- so you can ask them to enlighten you !

“Most families in the 60’s and 70’s had a ‘dooley’ or meat safe & it was a compulsory piece of furniture in many Indian homes. They were wooden storage cupboards with wire mesh on all four sides. Cooked food, milk, and vegetables was usually stored in them to keep fresh overnight. The ‘Meat Safe was also quite necessary to protect the food from cats, mice, and insects as well. In order to deter ants from crawling up and attacking the food, the four legs of the Meat Safe were placed in four small containers of water. Another name for the meat safe was ‘DOOLEY’

As for cold water , we had the 'surahi' - the earthen clay pot which kept the water cool - it tasted good too .

Those were the days my friend

 

Today there was a longing - a very sudden urge

deep within me

To take a walk – a nostalgic walk

On an avenue, of the Railway quarters

In my hometown- Allahabad.

 

Instantly I was transported back home

And there I was – a young boy again

Revisiting his roots.

 

Those narrow, enchanting, tree lined avenues

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

Where I played as a boy.

 

It was ‘121 Traffic Quarters- third avenue’

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

The home where I was born and raised.

 

Those old Railway houses – Colour washed, once a year

 Double- storied, simple square blocks

with gardens at the side, front and back.

Where flowers bloomed & vegetables were grown

 And chickens were often reared.

They laid their eggs in the hedges around the house

And I went and collected them every morning

A chore I loved – often there were six!

 

There were dogs too and we had one

 some aggressive  ones that bit-

 others whose ferocious bark was sufficient to scare you away.

 

The hedges were low and stunted – if any at all

Usually bushy and green with the occasional bougainvillea

Chameleons and butterflies aplenty.

Barriers and walls were a rarity back then

If it was yours – it was mine too

The jamun, plumb and guava trees

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

We were shouted at occasionally

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

hence, we did it repeatedly& with impunity.

 

I vividly recall

Vegetable and fruit sellers with their carts

Shouting out the various prices while cutting through

the narrow lanes.

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

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

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

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

 ‘Kallu the kabari’ with his raucous laughter

Who knew everyone by name- he loved to gossip.

Not to forget ‘Smiler’, the toothy cloth merchant

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

These were all regulars I can never forget.

 

All residents had household helpers who cooked and cleaned

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

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

Many stayed in small quarters at the back of the houses

 

 Everyone sat out in winter

Lunch in the shade of the moringa tree was so nice

Although I detested the curry with drumsticks !

 

 Eating peanuts and having tea at four!

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

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

Visitors dropped in unannounced

Simple friendly people and oh so many of us kids

Seemingly more boys than girls whose only ambition in life

Was to play!

 

The avenues were put to good use

by rickshaws pullers, cyclists, pedestrians

a few scooterists, motorcyclists and the rare car

Who took this short cut to the Civil Lines.

 

We however put it to greater use

  And played cricket, football, kings , seven tiles

And “gulli danda’’ as well

Oh, those endlessly long, fun filled afternoons

Where, caste, colour, creed or religion

Had no bearing.

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

The Eid and Christmas celebrations

We enjoyed them all.

The avenue lights came on at dusk

Thinking back now – they were rather dim.

Many were covered by creepers

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

 

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

And the shrieking and shouting continued till around nine

With us charging around in groups and having a blast

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

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

Uncomplicated pastimes, kindred spirits, simple pleasures, great friendships

“Those were the days my friend”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those were the days my friend

 

Today there was a longing - a very sudden urge

deep within me

To take a walk – a nostalgic walk

On an avenue, of the Railway quarters

In my hometown- Allahabad.

 

Instantly I was transported back home

And there I was – a young boy again

Revisiting his roots.

 

Those narrow, enchanting, tree lined avenues

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

Where I played as a boy.

 

It was ‘121 Traffic Quarters- third avenue’

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

The home where I was born and raised.

 

Those old Railway houses – Colour washed, once a year

 Double- storied, simple square blocks

with gardens at the side, front and back.

Where flowers bloomed & vegetables were grown

 And chickens were often reared.

They laid their eggs in the hedges around the house

And I went and collected them every morning

A chore I loved – often there were six!

 

There were dogs too and we had one

 some aggressive  ones that bit-

 others whose ferocious bark was sufficient to scare you away.

 

The hedges were low and stunted – if any at all

Usually bushy and green with the occasional bougainvillea

Chameleons and butterflies aplenty.

Barriers and walls were a rarity back then

If it was yours – it was mine too

The jamun, plumb and guava trees

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

We were shouted at occasionally

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

hence, we did it repeatedly& with impunity.

 

I vividly recall

Vegetable and fruit sellers with their carts

Shouting out the various prices while cutting through

the narrow lanes.

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

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

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

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

 ‘Kallu the kabari’ with his raucous laughter

Who knew everyone by name- he loved to gossip.

Not to forget ‘Smiler’, the toothy cloth merchant

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

These were all regulars I can never forget.

 

All residents had household helpers who cooked and cleaned

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

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

Many stayed in small quarters at the back of the houses

 

 Everyone sat out in winter

Lunch in the shade of the moringa tree was so nice

Although I detested the curry with drumsticks !

 

 Eating peanuts and having tea at four!

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

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

Visitors dropped in unannounced

Simple friendly people and oh so many of us kids

Seemingly more boys than girls whose only ambition in life

Was to play!

 

The avenues were put to good use

by rickshaws pullers, cyclists, pedestrians

a few scooterists, motorcyclists and the rare car

Who took this short cut to the Civil Lines.

 

We however put it to greater use

  And played cricket, football, kings , seven tiles

And “gulli danda’’ as well

Oh, those endlessly long, fun filled afternoons

Where, caste, colour, creed or religion

Had no bearing.

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

The Eid and Christmas celebrations

We enjoyed them all.

The avenue lights came on at dusk

Thinking back now – they were rather dim.

Many were covered by creepers

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

 

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

And the shrieking and shouting continued till around nine

With us charging around in groups and having a blast

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

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

Uncomplicated pastimes, kindred spirits, simple pleasures, great friendships

“Those were the days my friend”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections by the pool

 

You peg away all your life

You amass all you can

You were born to do just that my friend

Or so thinks every man

You gallop faster by the day

You practice till you drop

You must keep up, with the racing pack

Lest they term you, a total flop

If you’re a man, you take a wife

And then a few kids beget

If you’re a young lass

You often marry in haste

Then live a life of regret

But life itself

Is such a merry mix

Of exuberance, love, and strife

Of pursuits, goals, enemies, and moles

And friends, ready to stab you with a knife

So, watch your step- watch where you go

It’s not all cherries and cream

There’s poison ivy

Venomous rattle snakes too

Not always a pleasant dream

That’s life my friend

It’s your time on earth

So, live it the best way you can

Face the ups and the downs– take the good with the bad

But always be the better man

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Reflections by the pool

 

You peg away all your life

You amass all you can

You were born to do just that my friend

Or so thinks every man

You gallop faster by the day

You practice till you drop

You must keep up, with the racing pack

Lest they term you, a total flop

If you’re a man, you take a wife

And then a few kids beget

If you’re a young lass

You often marry in haste

Then live a life of regret

But life itself

Is such a merry mix

Of exuberance, love, and strife

Of pursuits, goals, enemies, and moles

And friends, ready to stab you with a knife

So, watch your step- watch where you go

It’s not all cherries and cream

There’s poison ivy

Venomous rattle snakes too

Not always a pleasant dream

That’s life my friend

It’s your time on earth

So, live it the best way you can

Face the ups and the downs– take the good with the bad

But always be the better man

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Comment

Share

WHO NEXT

 WHO NEXT?

Who next is an oft used phrase?

As a schoolteacher, house master, boarding superintendent , Headmaster and School Principal, I have frequently used this phrase while thinking to myself and at meetings. You see, as a Leader, if you want to ensure stability in any sphere, one must always think about ‘who next’. It’s a sort of succession planning.

Let me explain.

You see a dance, or a concert being presented by your pupils in school. There are some brilliant dancers and actors but unfortunately, they are all in the class that is passing out of school that year. Immediately you say to yourself ‘what happens next year or who next’. There is this worry that there will be no one to take over the baton.

You would have a fantastic Head boy or Head Girl – bubbly, intelligent and one who exhibited such great qualities of Leadership. ‘Who next’ would always crop up in some meeting or the other as the year was drawing to a close.

Every time I trained a debate team in Pune or Dubai there was always that ‘star speaker’. Confident, eloquent, a deep thinker, humourous, natural and a born orator, so to say. They had that innate ability to connect with any audience, with ease. I was confident that he or she would blow the opposition away and usually , they lived up to my expectations. However, a year or two later they were ready to pass out from school, and the question on my mind would always be, ‘who next’. Would we ever win as consistently again?

When brilliant, passionate, motivated teachers and leaders have left schools where I have been Headmaster or Principal it has always pained me, as they were loved by pupils and parents, did so much more than just teach, were the complete package and individuals who made a difference. Now what do we do, or ‘who next’, always cropped up. The initial thought often was, ‘will the results go down’? ‘Will parents be upset’?

However, my apprehensions and fears were always short lived, as someone or the other always stepped up and proved that they were as good, if not better at shouldering the task . There were the occasional, initial hiccups but soon everything was ‘hunky dory’.

I remember being interviewed for the Post of Principal in Dubai by a senior official. After clearing the interview, the person smiled and said, ‘you have big boots to fill’. Obviously the ‘who next’ scenario was playing out in her mind before the interview as well, and I don’t blame her.

The ‘who next syndrome’ is inevitable as that twinge of uncertainty will always prevail. However, the fears are more often than not, unfounded.

Now please don’t get me wrong – the ‘NEXT’ has, on a few occasions, NOT BEEN AS GOOD, and there has been a temporary setback as well.

However, if you take the law of averages into consideration, ‘who next’ is just a figment of one’s imagination and nothing much to worry about, as no one is indispensable.

SOMEONE ALWAYS STEPS UP - OFTEN LIKE A PHOENIX FROM THE SHADOWS AND TAKES THE REINS.

To put the record straight here is a disclaimer.

THIS IS A POST ABOUT EDUCATION AND LIFE.

However, if YOU make any connection between this post and POLITICS OR POLITICIANS – then you truly have an extremely fertile imagination.

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