I was always this curious about the mad rush of ‘Throwback Thursdays’ in social media until I figured out its a way to share one’s images from the spinning wheel, only anticlockwise…
And from there my whole idea of Throwback Stories’ gave birth. And guess what it all started from a so called dating platform called ‘Tinder. I was never serious enough about finding anyone forget sharing stories in a site called Tinder’ and that too when I am only 3 days old in that site.
And yet it happened. Miraculous or accidental but it just happened that I met a lovely soul with whom I started sharing my childhood stories than dating. But ya someone needs to tell me that what dating is and how it is done in these kind of social platforms.
We were talking about rains and how absence of rains was making life thirsty and irritating. Now Mumbai as a place is known for rains and such beautiful lush rains that legend goes even a steel object mellows down and makes a romantic illusory move. Haha haha. ..figment of imagination right? Oh ya Mumbai rains does this!
And now it’s the beginning of June and yet no trace of rains. In this time usually all the umbrellas generally starts going out for romantic trysts with rains and mists across Mumbai. So my Tinder lady was telling me how impatient and rude her umbrellas ( ya you need to keep a stock of 2 at least ) were behaving nowadays…
And all of a sudden it reminded me of my childhood and I started wondering how my rains were during those times…
I remember a large wooden house,lush green tea gardens , frail lil brooks, deep jungles ,tall dark mountains and so many different colours of skies…
It was a quaint Lil ignorant tea estate of my grandpa, next to a river called Jayanti. And i tell you that She was one heck of a river.
During winters slow and glimming with shimmers and allowing all tiny and big creatures to cross her chest and play with her flowing locks. But in the summer and that too with the rains, she used to grow mighty and expand her width so much that even the Big Babus ( Babu is referred as Gentleman, in my language ) , which were Elephants, used to be fearful about her.
I used to hear the tribal Madols( a sort of drums) warning the entire landscape about the way Jayanti was behaving. When the sound was slow and musical, like ‘drim- drim- drim’ it meant Jayanti was peaceful and when the sound used to grow at random speed and sounded like ‘drim drim drim drim drim’ it was time to become wary and cautious and it meant that Jayanti was starting to behave furious and an imminent overflowing could be a possibility. And immediately I could see the rush, as the workmen and women used to start coming over to the house and a distant chaos was noticed, everywhere. There were those dim ‘Kupis’ ( Kupis means small lights made out of kerosene and old glass bottles) moving hastily as the rain was so incessant and hazy that the nights were darker and nothing could be seen than the moving dim lights coming out of it…
So the entire family with 12 aunts, 5 Uncles, 6 elders, 7 housemaids, gardeners and drivers my Grandpa and Granny would rush to the nearest hill top, where a temporary out house was already built to avoid the overflow of Jayanti.
I could remember the dark jungles were shrouded with the sound of Madols and Tribals, as we were escorted to safety. A Lil boy in me used to love the moving lights of Kupis going up and down and making the stories of fairies coming alive….
For me rains were fun. It was a time to catch those mighty toads otherwise hidden. Time to catch those fiery green and beige colored fishes as they started coming over to the courtyard from the river. Time to make the paper boats and race them against each other. Time to avoid school and eat my granny’s mouth watering Khichdi ( a dish made up of rice and lentils) with lots of fried fishes and fried vegetables. Time to listen ghost stories and shreek at the slightest shadows available….
The most memorable time was to walk up to those watery forest and see how those rabbits playing without any fear, as the foxes were not so happy with rains and thus chose to remain away from hunting.
I remembered how ‘Mangla’ my tribal friend from the nearby village, used to take me deep inside the tea estate and find the tasty cloud shaped mushrooms and small baby fishes trying to swim away from their parents and home. We both used to give name to those fishes and tried summon them at the slightest opportunity, and act as their masters….
And as the Shankhs – coch shells, used to play the ending of the day, remember rushing to our home with teary eyes only to promise that the morning will come sooner. Sooner than we believed, with the rains all over us.
Never realised until now that my childhood rains actually went far too deep. Deep within my body and never to go away. I can still smell it’s scents and can still hear her dances all around me. Have I grown old?
Who says! Let the rains come and you will know how my childhood opens up its magical wings and wet you too with its magnificent colours. Some say Colours of Love…
Sat Biswas 