This was the theme of the latest online playback theater performance by the talented artist of First drop* which I had the pleasure of attending this sunday. The first question that was posed to the audience was how many of us were still living in our place of birth. A lion’s share of us responded in the negative. A few from the audience volunteered and shared their feelings on the topic subsequent to which the actors enacted them for us. My friend Srijith was on fire during the show. In response to a story of a childhood spent in mango trees, out of nowhere he came up with a branch of a mango tree to the screen. Similarly Thulasi came up with a mortar and pestle in response to another instance. Being a doubting Thomas I thought that this was scripted but my friend clarified that it was indeed impromptu which made it all the more impressive. I had no reason to doubt him any further because this in a way explained as to why the leaves were wet when he was holding them as a prop since it was raining at that time in Kochi. The show made me reminiscent of the homes that I have lived in my lifetime and pangs of nostalgia hit me hard that I decided to pen down one by one the houses that I have lived in.
My first memory of a house is that of the SP*’s bungalow in Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh. The huge house comprised of a Garden with a variety of flowers, fields adjacent to the house were used to grow wheat and vegetables for our personal use, the sentry outpost at the entrance was always manned by armed policemen, the workers quarters at the back side, everything is a vague memory now. I learnt to cycle in my quaint little red Hero Hansa on the tarred roads that ran through the length and breadth of the property. It so happened that there was a concrete tank in which we stored water for the crops. Once I had gotten inside it to splash around since there was only water till my knees but alas I lost my footing and fell down. I hadn’t factored the moss that had accumulated at its bottom. Post that episode I remember getting berated for my recklessness by my father. Because of the vegetation around it was also a haunt for a variety of snakes. The moment a snake is spotted in the vicinity the shake charmer is summoned who would play his instrument and attract it to his basket. Another sight I will never forget is the dance of the peacock bang in the middle of the garden. The memories are quite vivid because I spent a considerable amount of time over there.
*SP-Superintendent of Police
My grandmother's palatial house named after her in a sleepy little coastal hamlet in Trivandrum was another place where I spent the rest of my childhood until my adolescence. For starters it was a mighty two storey house with huge ceilings with a kind of red sandstone used for its flooring. If you go to the terrace or the first floor you could see the sea a bit ahead of you. As a matter of fact, of all the houses that I have lived, this is the only place which has a dedicated prayer room, I mean a proper room reserved only for prayer. There was also a clock inside it which used to chime in different tunes for every quarter of an hour. The outdoors were equally majestic, there was a gooseberry tree and a guava tree where you could climb up to pluck the fruit and consume to your heart’s delight. But for me the fond memory would be our game of cricket which we played among our cousins with great intensity for hours at end. Right in the front of the house you had ample space to play the gentleman's game. If you could not keep your shots down the ball would land at either the neighbour’s house or on the road outside which has got its set of travails when it comes to fetching the ball.
Then comes our very own house named after my father where I spent my teenage and early adult years right in the heart of the city of Trivandrum. We didn’t have much place to play so we ended up playing cricket on the terrace. This was too much of a hassle since quite often the ball would end up at the neighbour’s house. Ambrose jumping to the adjacent compound to fetch the ball started becoming a routine affair and we used to get into a lot of trouble for it. Gradually we stopped playing cricket at our house altogether and it was played only when we visited our grandmother’s house during the summer holidays. I guess this was also the time that marked the end of my outdoor life. Slowly I started spending more time inside the house primarily because my father’s book collection was now unveiled. It was no longer stored in some iron trunk but was out in the open. That was the time when the world of reading opened itself to me with limitless possibility.Boy I was a prolific reader back then(another post:Reading). This was also roughly the time when I picked up writing as well. I used to write on full scap paper sheets and file it.Recently I came across the file with layers of dust accumulated over it with the passage of time. Guess what now when I read it I am deeply embarrassed by what I had written then. Come to think of it this was where I had my first crush this was where I had my first heartbreak. This was where I topped on my tenth boards, this was where I popped a sprite bottle in place of a champagne to announce that I had cleared my Engineering(we had a tough time cleaning the stains in the ceiling my brother’s 6 feet 4 inch frame came quite handy at that time). I hope you noticed how subtly I had mentioned about my fall from grace from being a topper in school to a first class holder in my Engineering college. Damn there are too many memories in that house. This was the place where I spent the most years of my life, Period.
The single room adjacent to the terrace at Adayar was the first place I lived after I left home. The effervescent Srijith, the very same guy I mentioned in the first paragraph, was my roommate then. The room just had a double bed and an attached bathroom. You did not require an aftershave and could save the money because your face would automatically sanitise when you sprinkle some tap water which incidentally was very salty. Srijith who cared very much for his vanity would go down to the hand pump in the road and carry a bucket of water 3 storeys up to wash his hair. I was too lazy to even do that and the results are there for you to see. Srijith still sports a full crown of hair while my head looks like a 5th day pitch of a test match in India. Irrespective of the frugal surroundings the company of each other made it all the more special. Come to think of it I poured Srijith his first ever drink in that very room. We celebrated wildly when our first ever salary was credited. For us it was nothing short of a penthouse. The single room that I mentioned was only our living room. The terrace was multipurpose it was there Srijith Ponnappan staged his one man shows back then, it is there I did my push ups, it is there Srijith did his Yoga, it is where we did our laundry minus the washing machine, it is there both of us used to hang out after a hard day's work and discuss our respective crushes under the stars, it is there that we used chill in case any of our friends visited.
(to be continued……….)
Click here for Part 2
In case you liked this post check out a similar post of mine Roomie
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