CHILDHOOD GAMES

As I sit in the verandah and watch children play in the evenings, peals of carefree laughter fill my ears, bringing back nostalgic memories of my childhood.

Watching children play games which do not ring a bell, I wonder....whatever happened to.....

Whatever happened to the marbles? Where are they? They were priceless possessions when I was a kid, do kids still play them? Do most kids now know what marbles are, have they ever seen one? Got to check the museum.

Children of the present generation I've noticed are different, even a toddler looks for a switch the moment you put a new toy in its hands.

Way back in college my roommate and I had once had this late night conversation about our childhood, how we used to play these strange games, singing nonsensical rhymes without any meaning...ignorance was indeed bliss.

"Oren jus n laymun so fora byalis allas gullas ah so maney, the grasis green and rozy ray, rember me till I am day, day, day" (orange juice and lemon sold for a penny, all the school girls are so many; the grass is green and the roses red, remember me till I am dead, dead, dead.) This was the most popular game, I must have played it at least a thousand times.

My roommate had an even better one, she comes from a very cold place in Sikkim, close to the China border. They did not have any shops or toys, yet they were happy just making strange buzzing sounds and tugging along a dead bulls horn tied to a string, from dawn to dusk, and again the next day, from dawn to dusk.

My husband's favourite pastime was riding on a buffalo's back and feeling like the king of all he surveyed. Unlucky me, I missed that pleasure. Gone are the innocent, carefree days.

Once I tried to teach my niece how to play 'Jackstones' (a game which is played with five pebbles, tossing up one and exchanging with another and so on...) It took me the whole afternoon but she could not get it right. Well, when there are so many new gizmos in the market which child would even want to try this inexpensive method of mastering hand-eye coordination.

Then again, I look back and realise, to each his own, times have changed and change is always for the better. OR IS IT? Give me back my childhood and I will live it just the way it was.

R.I.P. 'BLUE LOAF'

Blue is one of my favourite colours. It was't back then.
As kids, we (my siblings, cousins and schoolmates from back home) have these memories that time can never erase.

My earliest memory is of the blue state road transport bus that used to rumble down the dusty roads of Mangan, my home town, once a day. We were in awe of this huge vehicle, coming as we did from a place where there was hardly any traffic then. We used to often hang around the bus stop below my uncle's house and hail the arrival of the Mangan bus from capital Gangtok. "City bus aiyo, city bus aiyo" (The city bus has come, the city bus has come) we used to sing.

Then things changed, we grew up and had to leave our safe haven to get some education in far away Gangtok, which took five hours to reach in those days.

Our first lesson was the longest and the toughest. How to board, find a seat and survive the journey in "the city bus", our childhood fascination. Blue in colour and shaped like a fat loaf of bread.

We invariably managed to land up sitting close to the driver's seat, next to the engine, and it can really get pretty hot and stuffy out there.

We took turns sitting beside the window, except for one junior family member who refused to budge once she got her turn.

We had to travel in our school uniform, making it doubly uncomfortable. As aptly put by a fellow passenger, we looked like "statues made out of the same clay".

Strangely enough, everyone else in the bus seemed to be in high spirits, especially my dad who always landed up sitting on someone else's bag of rice, basket, box, etc. due to shortage of seats. But he never complained.

Several times during the journey we had to disembark as the hill road was too steep at places and the "Blue Loaf" over-loaded. We were the first ones out as dad wouldn't take a chance, even though the driver insisted the kids could stay inside. The fresh air was a short yet sweet break.

Holidays were welcome but the journey was always a torture. My sister's head used to start reeling at the thought of the impending travel and she used to even start throwing up on the eve of the journey.

As we grew up the traffic slowly increased and other modes of travel became available.

The "Blue Loaf" was eventually decommissioned, but it remained embedded in our collective memories.

Now, thirty years later, when I look back on my childhood, I realise that I was never grateful to the only means of transport that enabled me to move on from quaint little Mangan into the big wide world.
Thank you "Blue Loaf". R.I.P.

SUNDAY IS LONGER THAN MONDAY?

Whosoever said Sunday is longer than Monday meant it as a joke.

The wait for Sunday is definitely long. You long for Sunday from Monday onwards for six whole days. But besides that there is nothing so long about Sunday.

You wake up late on Sunday as its the weekend, a holiday for most people, by the time you eat breakfast or skip it its already time for lunch. After lunch you try to pack in as much as you can. Pending work pertaining to family, pet, phone calls, visits, you barely manage to do even one of the chores in your 'things to do list', when its time for dinner and of course an early night as Monday is a working day.

Monday is another day, where you rush, rush, rush. You get up really early, earlier than the other days of the week because you are extra cautious as it is the first day of the week and you always want to make a good start to the week, you also have to drive to work, catch a bus, tram, metro, auto, taxi, rickshaw or maybe walk to office. Once you you are there you have to catch up with the weekends developments, could be anything to do with office backlog, staff, gossip and current affairs. And then finally you get down to work. You also land up staying longer hours planning for the whole week ahead.

Other days of the week are mundane for most, definitely does not pass off as fast as Sunday as they are working days for most people, but there are always exceptions to the rule. budding office romance et al.

If someone said Wednesday is the longest day of the week, perhaps I would agree, as Wednesday falls in the middle of the week, and Wednesday's spelling is the longest. But all said and done, Sunday is definitely not longer than Monday. However Monday, surely seems much much much more longer than Sunday.

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Little Worries

Every time my little girl tells me she has an activity in school there is pandemonium in my household.

The last time it happened was a week ago when she told me she had to make some salad in school and she needed to take the paraphernalia.

I racked my brains and could not come up with anything more original and easier than the 'good ole fruit salad'.

After all the ingredients were in place, started the usual parental worries, my child has never used a knife, how could I send a knife to school, how will she manage it all by herself. etc.

I took out my little chopping board, decided her plastic 'birthday cake' knife will have to do and started a demonstration on how to cut the fruits.

She in turn also practised under my supervision and finally I packed her an extra bag with chopping board, plastic knife, washed fruits, a big bowl for mixing the ingredients, salt/pepper, fruit cream and disposable plates and spoons for serving and finally retired to bed.

The next morning I got up early and checked through the contents of her bag just in case I had missed something.

In the afternoon I waited anxiously for her school bus to arrive and excitedly asked her how it all went.

She said it went off okay, except that she was the last one finish her salad preparation.

She said that while some had cut the fruits/vegetables at home itself, others had come prepared with the entire dish and only had to serve it in the classroom. They just stuck the extra spoons into the bowl and offered it.

Amazing! How very innovative! And I never even knew this option was there. If there is any one who needs to be educated, I think it's me. Hello school! Here I come.

NET PALS

Facebook -- a site where you get booked by your mugshot.

Where your past catches up with you or you catch up with your past.

Where you remind people of things that they fogot or wanted to forget.

Where you are reminded of things you wanted to forget or thought you had forgotten.

Where you shamelessly pass comments on every photograph uploaded, which you otherwise would refrain from doing.

Where every photograph you upload is commented to shreads.

Where you poke, nudge and %$#*&;

invite friends to games and then force win.

Displaying your winning stats against your pals.

Where you remember friends you near forgot.

Where they in turn also recollect.

Where you are shocked to see the change in some.

Where they in turn are horrified.

But at the end of the day its an awful lot of fun.

Doing things we never would have done.

AIR HOISTED

I am an air hostess who has just lost my job due to my excess weight.
I went to the market the other day to buy some hoisery.
The shopkeepers assistant was a young and over enthusiastic lad.[I guess everyone must have come across one sometime]
As I took my pick of the various items my eye fell on a colourful box and I asked him to show me the contents.
The boy was reluctant and said it contained stockings which were meant for the 'air hoisted' and further went on to explain that the 'airhoisted' are girls who work in an aeroplane.
Amused I decided to buy a pair and try my luck, just in case i get "air hoisted"again.

My Mother-in-Law

My mother-in-law just got herself a new set of dentures, and she has a complaint.
She cannot get used to the new ones as she says her teeth in her lower jaw are smaller than her original ones. She wants her big teeth back. I think its a valid complaint.
Sixty years of getting used to it, she cannot be expected to accept new jaws over night.