The Childhood

The town we lived in was in no sense humble. It roared in monsoon, scorched in summer, chilled us in winters. The city itself was an old reminiscence of past. A town where you could hear the sound of Mosque at five in the morning and feel like nothing is out of order because after all isn't it already too late. The temples bells were a song for most of us. Cows used to roam freely, and Kaccha houses were not unusual. When the courtyard tree still showered its blessing upon the owners of the house and more than 6 families could reside under a  single roof. The whole city had one major road, with virtually no car. You could roam around the whole day, and wouldn't be able to see a car. I still remember, the first time I saw a car, I compared it with the one given in my school book. 

Summer meant going to Nani ke Ghar and winter (if lucky) resulted in same. The best gift, I could receive was an Rs. 2 coin from my Dau(Grandfather) against the Rs.1 coin which he would give us every day. Frooti was still a luxury for us, earned after waiting for 5 days, saving every penny with as many efforts, as one guarded his precious treasures. Indeed it was a treasure then, and the memories are a treasure now. Sometimes, we used to pool our saving for a new toy that all of us would buy together and I broke. Every time. When I was with my brothers, I remember I used to hold his shirt from behind while he used to lead the way. 

We used to roam around the city a lot, first by our bicycles, and then as time grew, we shifted to Scooters. Every lane was covered, and every house was remembered. The Kuccha houses were replaced by the Pukka one. And shops were replaced by shopping complexes. The old barber who used to sit below under the tree vanished with the tree, leaving us to find a new Barber. Earlier, from the top of the terrace, we used to see the horizon, while my brother told me about different hemispheres of Earth. Sitting there wondering what lies beyond. The reality was apparently not that good. Now the only thing I could see from my terrace, was a row of building, guarding the view of the sinking sun from my sight as if placed there for the sole purpose of annoying me.

Then there were the neighborhood crushes. The one with whose name, your siblings teased you and eventually due to these teasing you also started imaging that something special existed between the two of you. Believe me, nothing ever points to it, but you still feel that sweet feeling. Seeing her would make you happy, and you wouldn't know the reason.  Childhood crush is one of the truest forms of love that can exist, feeling loved even though there is nothing between you too. And loving without any purpose, just for the sake of it. The innocence still makes me wonder if anything like that is even possible.

The smell of fresh lime, wet in water or of the rain splashing on the ground creating a scent that is unique to the rain, still takes me back to the time. For me, Home smells like a combination of all these small details. The smell of Ghee on Roti, the smell of the monsoon, the smell of poha in the market. Its a place where everyone is happy that you came and everyone welcomes you. It's Home.