Down the memory lane...
We all cherish happy memories of our childhood.
For me the happiest memories are those spend in my native hometown. Mangalore. It was a time to escape and run carefree. From boring classes in school, exams, not very close friends and noisy Mumbai.
It would all begin a month before the final examinations of the school year. As soon as the dates were announced my mom would pester Papa to book the bus tickets to Mangalore. It would usually be the next morning from the last paper or the day after; not a day later. The excitement would build up and increase as the day would get closer.
There would be a frantic scenario at home. Mom packing, cooking and pressurizing me to study. (My sister would not need any pleading to study as by this time she would be on her tenth revision!). So after this half-hearted attempt to study and give the exams it was vacation time! Two and a half months of fun and pampering at my grandparents home.
We would get up at 5.00am, have a shower and groggily eat bread and butter at 6.00 am. Our bus would leave at 8.00am from Sion. As exciting the vacation would turn out to be, we would dread the 24 hours KSRTC bus journey, especially with Mom and Akki (my sister) sleeping or throwing up all the way with the effect of motion-sickness tablets.
I enjoyed sitting with Papa as he would tell me stories about the imaginary forests, teach me how to count the remaining kilometers, and some stories.
After an uncomfortable journey it would finally reach the last stop. Bejai. The most wonderful place in the world.
Ramchandra uncle would be ready waiting in at the depot to take us home in his rickshaw. His warm smile would melt away the tiredness and gear us up for the wonderful days ahead...
I and Akki would huddle up waiting for the rickshaw to take a left turn towards Pais Gardens. The tiny lane towards my Mallapapa's (Grandad) house. As we reach we can see him standing near the door with his white lungi and kurta smiling and welcoming us.
The house always welcomed us with the smell of fresh idlis steaming away. As amma (Grandma) would hear us she'd come running out of the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her saree pallu and hugging us all.
That was just the beginning of a lovely summer vacation...Ammas amazing food, rickshaw rides with Ramchandra uncle, sannas at Babuliaunty's house, relishing Moondappas (Mango), watching Sundariakka washing clothes and swinging on the jackfruit tree.
And this was a routine. The same excitement, same welcome, same love from Mallapapa and Amma...memories I will always cherish and treasure...
For me the happiest memories are those spend in my native hometown. Mangalore. It was a time to escape and run carefree. From boring classes in school, exams, not very close friends and noisy Mumbai.
It would all begin a month before the final examinations of the school year. As soon as the dates were announced my mom would pester Papa to book the bus tickets to Mangalore. It would usually be the next morning from the last paper or the day after; not a day later. The excitement would build up and increase as the day would get closer.
There would be a frantic scenario at home. Mom packing, cooking and pressurizing me to study. (My sister would not need any pleading to study as by this time she would be on her tenth revision!). So after this half-hearted attempt to study and give the exams it was vacation time! Two and a half months of fun and pampering at my grandparents home.
We would get up at 5.00am, have a shower and groggily eat bread and butter at 6.00 am. Our bus would leave at 8.00am from Sion. As exciting the vacation would turn out to be, we would dread the 24 hours KSRTC bus journey, especially with Mom and Akki (my sister) sleeping or throwing up all the way with the effect of motion-sickness tablets.
I enjoyed sitting with Papa as he would tell me stories about the imaginary forests, teach me how to count the remaining kilometers, and some stories.
After an uncomfortable journey it would finally reach the last stop. Bejai. The most wonderful place in the world.
Ramchandra uncle would be ready waiting in at the depot to take us home in his rickshaw. His warm smile would melt away the tiredness and gear us up for the wonderful days ahead...
I and Akki would huddle up waiting for the rickshaw to take a left turn towards Pais Gardens. The tiny lane towards my Mallapapa's (Grandad) house. As we reach we can see him standing near the door with his white lungi and kurta smiling and welcoming us.
The house always welcomed us with the smell of fresh idlis steaming away. As amma (Grandma) would hear us she'd come running out of the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her saree pallu and hugging us all.
That was just the beginning of a lovely summer vacation...Ammas amazing food, rickshaw rides with Ramchandra uncle, sannas at Babuliaunty's house, relishing Moondappas (Mango), watching Sundariakka washing clothes and swinging on the jackfruit tree.
And this was a routine. The same excitement, same welcome, same love from Mallapapa and Amma...memories I will always cherish and treasure...
Comments
Post a Comment