Growing up in the 70's - 80's

 A big part of growing up years is identified with sketches of a long, silent sometimes roisterous corridor flanked by airy, ventilated rows of classrooms on either side. The repititious uniform worn all through the years of school life, favourite, some not- so- favourite teachers, friends I bartered lunch boxes with only to find the aroma of their food more mouth- watering than my own. Classmates I was discreetly envious of for being more popular and accepted among others.

Deeply etched remembrances of the past, frequently evoke pleasant memories of adventurous teenage years. This early relaxed Sunday morning is one of those when I leisurely view nostalgic moments in my mind's eye.

Hurriedly cycling back home after a long, dusty, exhausting, sometimes eventful week-day at school to a chilled, larger-than-normal sized glass of cold coffee- a daily ritual welcome drink in our home, that my siblings and I gulped to beat the scorching summer heat. For most part of the year, we preferred this to the hot cup of milk (we hated to tediously sip on) my mother insisted we must have on evenings relatively windier than usual.

The incentive rewarded for finishing the assigned homework and a revision of lessons done at school was to play outdoors with children in the neighbourhood who enthusiastically waited for us to join in- an unexplainable thrill in an era when digital games was an undiscovered technology. On a rainy day, the alternative was to stay in and play exciting boardgames or engross in an interesting book borrowed from the local residential lending library that has also seemed to have extinguished over time. Best among the limited options of recreation was the weekly scheduled programes on television- unlike multiple entertainment channels playing simultaneously, a variety to choose from.

Yet in the mundane,ordinary life we found extraordinary warmth in a comforting home-cooked meal, unconditional love in a close- knit family, true friendships in genuine friends and real affection in our loved ones.


On some Sundays, I ruminate about life then and life now. 


Until I write again.


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