Growing up....

As a junior kid in school, I had one period less than my mom (who worked as a teacher in the same institution). 1 period meant 40 minutes. I had specific set of duties that mummy expected me to finish before she came home. These included:

Getting back straight from school to home (a walk at the normal pace took 7 minutes)
Taking off the school uniform and changing into home – clothes
Washing the rice and putting it up on the hot-plate for cooking (I was strictly prohibited to touch the gas)
Putting up the pulses for cooking (which was already locked inside the cooker by my mother in the morning) on the other hot plate.
Folding off my school uniform and keeping it properly

I was supposed to perform the actions in exactly the same order as listed. But then, I wasn’t ever the one who could do things straight. My to-do list was like:

Getting back from school in 15-20 minutes, stopping under each of the trees (there were 14 of them) to explore the soil (and sometimes dried up drains), the texture of the leaves and observing people in general.
Opening the gas on full and putting both rice and pulses there to cook, because hot plate took more time. (my mother thought all the time that I had no idea how to open the gas.)
Searching for Rasna, Cashew nut biscuits and Haldiram Aaloo bhujiya (which my mother kept away from my eyes) and consuming it sitting in front of the television (watching television was more often considered a crime at my home) .
Doing all kinds of nonsense activities- like admiring my secret collection of junk from around the house feeding stray animals and if time permitted indulge in a bit of reading.
The last few seconds before my mother rang the doorbell was a flurry of intense activity. I would change my clothes in the kitchen where I would be switching off the gas and heating the hot plate for a few seconds so that my mother did not know…Folding off the school uniform was never done – I ignored it as if I did not know that I was expected to do that.

Needless to say, a lot of times I landed in a big mess. Once the school broke early for the teachers and my mother was home before I reached. A lot of times my “co-curricular” activities engrossed me so badly that the rice and pulses would burn out before the smell reached my nose. At other times, when we had company for tea and my mother tried to find biscuits and namkeen she realized that there was not even a grain there….

My mother hates animals. She is one of those people who think that animals cannot be tamed and they will always remain animals. I on my part loved animals, especially dogs. Once I remember, I had found a stray pup on the crossroads near my home where it was alone and helpless in the summer afternoon; as I was returning from school. I had picked it up carried it home and treated it to milk and biscuits. The fear of mummy’s scolding had made me carry it back to the cross roads before she reached home. The pup had tried to follow me back but I was faster than him. However the next day, it was there again at the cross roads to welcome me. I was almost as excited on seeing him as it was, on seeing me. Again a treat of milk and biscuits. My mother didn’t find anything amiss and for the next 4 days this fun continued. I would run back home (instead of my usual loitering) and meet the pup at the cross roads from where on it would follow me home for his lunch. He would then go away – some logic made him understand that my desperation to get him away equaled my love for him. He became my sole attraction and the purpose of existence.

When weekend came – he didn’t find me at the cross roads. But his hunger (and love) brought him to the gates of my house at exactly the same hour as each day. I was inside, having my lunch. Not finding me around in the garden it did something funny. My white canvas PT shoes that I had washed a few hours ago were drying in the sun. The pup picked one of the shoes and was playing with it – maybe it thought that was me. My mother went out for some work and she saw this. The moment she saw this she tried to shoo it off. The pup did go off but it also carried away one of the white shoes’. My mom called me and asked me to run after the pup and get back the shoe. But as soon as it saw me, it stopped running and instead came over to me- yelping with delight. I on my part not trying to appear too friendly with the pup shooed it off- the pup thought it was some game and ran again with the shoe. I had a difficult time getting back my shoe and making the dog not follow me back. I remember a lot of people laughing at the scene- a girl running after a dog on a summer afternoon, which is carrying away her white shoe(no longer white) Meanwhile, one of my neighbours also came out and she told mom about my daily schedule of feeding milk and biscuits. That was it. As soon as I got back with the shoe, I received a sound beating for:

1.Touching stray animals- which can bite anytime
2.Getting it inside the house- feeding the animal from utensils that we ate in.
3.Wasting milk and biscuits that came from hard earned money.
4.For being so callous and irresponsible and for wasting time on useless things.


Needless to say, I never fed the pup again – it was dangerous to do that under the watchful eyes of my nosy neighbour(who had been asked to play CID by my mom, in her absence). The pup after a couple of days forgot me, or rather returned my sudden withdrawal of love with ignorance. With time, as I grew older I became scared of pups and was more concerned about acquiring rabies than petting the animals or pulling them out of drains.

I still love animals, but care for them in a “careful” way- not touching stray animals, not feeding them on the choicest of cream biscuits but rather on left overs and likewise. 40 minutes that seemed so enough for everything in those days have somehow become smaller and less interesting- filled with thoughts rather than Rasna and Aaloo Bhujiya. Is this what growing up all about?