My Life, My words

The story of my life is not that extraordinary as the readers expect. It is neither too adventurous nor a rollercoaster one. However, the various incidents that occurred during my journey of life, jotted down, from my memory, may evince some interest for the readers.

Like any other child of my era, my birth was also celebrated in my home (as I was told by my mother later), by distributing sweets to the neighbors as well as giving a sumptuous feast to all relatives and neighbors on the twenty-eight day of my arrival, to this brave new world. When I became three years old, my sister was born, a lovely girl, with curly hair, who became a companion to me, until she was married off and settled in a distant city. Our care-free childhood was having fun with petty quarrels often. Still, we were very happy and pleasant, with no restrictions imposed on us by our parents. We were free to do anything we liked.

We played different games till we felt hungry, as there was no schooling till the child attained the age of six, in those days. Our mother also joined us in playing games, after completion of her daily routine household chores. My sister and I fought over silly things, given a chance. She even used to fight with mother for an equal share of food which was given to me as an elder. I also made every attempt to scare and provoke her for any matter. She chased me wherever I went. Our mother used to tell us different stories each day and we were very eager to listen to her. She used to take both of us to the temple nearby every day for praying, after giving us a decent bath in warm water during those winter evenings.

During the hot summer days, the poor village ladies of the potter community with their kids wrapped in cloths and carrying at their back used to bring some earthen pots for sale. Generally, gents in their community made earthen pots and vessels at their home, while ladies were marketing the same in the nearby houses, as there were no permanent markets for their products. They needed only rice or porridge, in return. They talked in a different dialect amongst themselves than our mother tongue, which we could not understand even, but still used to listen to their talk. They used to consume the porridge we give, then and there, as they were very hungry. They used to take home, some rice which we give on seeing their plight, especially of the children.

We used to keep a mother goat for our daily milk requirement. It had two bright, white coloured lambs with black spots in their body throughout. We used goat’s milk to make tea. Anyway, it helped to serve tea for any unexpected guest, because the mother could milk them, anytime she wished. We used to run with the lambs for fun as they could run very fast, but their ultimate point was none other than the place where their mother stood.

When I started going to school, we got very little time to play together. The journey of going to school with my friends, walking through the muddy edges in the paddy fields, barefoot, was very fascinating. On the way, we had to cross two rivulets to reach the school. We used to jump from one end to the other end, to cross the smaller stream, where there was no bridge; otherwise, we had to walk through the waist-deep water. There was a broken unused reinforced concrete pillar, placed across the stream, in a tilted position to enable to cross and to reach to the other end of the larger stream. Our adventurous walk along the so-called bridge, carrying the school bag, with lunch box inside, during monsoons, was a very precarious and gymnastic act.

The turbulent flow of water just below the bridge, during monsoons, made us more nervous, water level almost touching the concrete pillar, but somehow managed to cross every time, without falling into the stream even once. We used to boast of ourselves every time; we crossed and enjoyed the small adventures. There was a road also for going to school, but to save time, we preferred the paddy field walk. It was my practice to narrate the happenings to my mother on daily basis. She used to listen to me all the points I said. As my father was posted at different locations, I could see him only on Sundays. Nevertheless, we enjoyed life. He took the time to take all of us to see the films, once in a while.

Teachers when narrating the structure of atoms or describing world history, with the minutest details, in full spirit, we students were busy making paper boats and arrows, out of pages torn from the note book. As such, we had to face unscrupulous cane beatings several times from our teachers, but kept no grudge or malice towards them, in our mind, even once. We used to get big relief from learning, during sports weeks and other cultural activities arranged in the school during the months of January. I like to revisit those good old times, given a chance, but alas, I know, it will remain as it is. Mother too scolded me when I told her about the adventures at school about not listening to the teachers.

All those revels ended soon after I joined college and I felt as a matured guy and my actions became more responsible. As we become mature, our interests in life also get changed. There were several good Professors who could explain the hardcore subjects in a very lucid and in an interesting manner. They introduced me to an entirely different world. The great works of William Shakespeare, George Bernard Shaw and William Wordsworth, etc. were discussed in class, which brought us to a different level altogether. Many books, periodicals, and journals in the College library were added attractions to go to college. Time, Sputnik, Illustrated Weekly of India, Blitz, etc. were my favourite journals then. The college life entirely changed my personality and helped to improve my confidence level. There I learnt that education is not only the process of learning various subjects from textbooks but helps in the overall development of our intellect. I scored good marks at the graduation level which helped me to get a job for a decent living, immediately after the results. Everyone in the family celebrated my getting a job. My mother told me it was her wish to see me going to the office, before she becomes too old.

Soon after joining an office, I understood the value of responsibility, loyalty, and integrity of a person towards the institution one work and towards the family. I enjoyed both the work and life because the support I received from my colleagues and seniors was tremendous. My passion was to work only. We worked as a team and as a family. Hence the progress could be seen both of the institutions and employees. As more and more responsibility is thrust upon my shoulders, my stress level also increased simultaneously. Once I got married, it was a turning point in my life. The life went on smoothly, enjoying the days at home and the office. After the birth of my son, we lived more happily since I was completely free from all tensions once I reached home.

Days, weeks, months and years passed very fast. My hair started turning into grey and every time I stood in front of the mirror, it just reminded me that I am aging and have to retire soon from working. I started planning for retirement both financially and mentally. I started paying off all my liabilities, in a systematic manner. I purchased a moderate flat to live in. I thought, after a few more years I had to say goodbye to my office and to my colleagues. That expected day, which was predetermined, also arrived without any surprise to me and bid goodbye to office and colleagues.

Everybody at home welcomed my retirement and was happy that I will be with them all the time.

My parents were also getting very old. Many times I had to take leave for taking them to the hospitals. My father died of a heart attack, despite he had a regular walk and a strict diet. Mother spent the rest of her life spending hours in temples and other spiritual activities. She felt a vacuum after father’s death. She did not live more than two years thereafter. I had to accept the death of my parents with the firm belief that everybody has to vacate this place, once born. 

I made contacts with old friends from school, college, and office; all now are leading a retired life. I got enough quality time to spend with my family. It made me indulge in various activities, which I had no time, earlier. I, along with my wife started to explore different places both in India and outside. We maintained our health in check, by consulting our family doctor and taking medication whenever required. 

The old reminiscences still ponder me while sitting in my home. The routine life goes on, sometimes attending marriages of dear ones, both within the family and outside. I thought for a while my mother’s words “good deeds of a person in life, never go waste because you get help sometimes from unknown quarters” and it is a fact that I had a number of instances in this regard. Our existence in this world is a testimony to the above fact and I owe my life to my parents and all members of my family. I take life as granted, no regrets whatsoever, happy with what I possess, but keeping my wants and desires in the limit, ready to leave this world, when the final call comes.