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Monday, April 17, 2006 

Bachpan Ke Din

Moving to a new neighbourhood was always a mixed joy. On one hand, there was the sheer pleasure of being rude at school to assorted teachers, in the joyous knowledge of no long term revenges being possible. On the other, the trials and tribulations of moving to a new neighbourhood were all too well known.

I remember that day; I had been unceremoniously booted out of home at 5 pm, with an injunction to “play and make friends”. Fuming over the beatific, but ignorant optimism of parents, I made my way to the park cautiously. This park did not offer any sylvan refuge where one could unobtrusively hole up with a book. And steal home unnoticed after a decent interval. No, the damn place had nothing but a few overgrown shrubs for cover. So one opened up the comic book, sat down on a stone bench, and waited.

After a couple of stray glances, a couple of representatives of the local lot walked over.

“Where from ?”

“_____ Street”. ( A smart alecky answer, considering it was unlikely that anyone except people on that street would come to that nondescript bit of Eden). They chewed on that one, and decided that newcomers were to be allowed some latitude.

“What’s your name ?”

“___”. This caused some hurried consultations in the local militia, and then they dispersed without further attempts at “making friendship”. I went back to the comic book, thinking that the natives, if not friendly, definitely seemed to be less wearisome than several others which an itinerant parent had exposed me to.

Not for long though. Even as his shadow fell across me, I knew that this was big trouble. I looked up. He had the overwhelming incomprehension of the dullard written all over him, along with the brute strength that often accompanies stupidity.

“They say your name is ____” , he said nodding towards the local reps. He wore his truculence as shield against a faster, better, shrewder world.

“Yes”, I said.

“Why ?”

This stumped me. Several answers surged with tidal speed towards the tip of my tongue, only to be beaten back by a wall of caution. I decided to cautiously probe.

“Errr, why not ?”

“Cos it’s my name”, he said. Uh-oh. I now grasped the unrest in the local population. They were asking themselves what they had done to deserve another of us. The simple difference, of course, being that he was around two times my size. In physical terms, I was like the free dispenser sold with the extra large toilet cleanser bottle.

“Errr, that’s good”. I tried an ingratiating smile.

“I am enough!”

No, you are way too much already, I wanted to say. Fatally, the caution that was my sole protection forsook me. Probably the Commando comic I was reading had something to do with it. Something I had read during the day sprang to the mind. I had wanted to show this trick off, and like a puppy wanting to show it can chase a ball across a busy road, I decided this was the opportune moment.

“ What is 75 x 75 ?”



Now I was on a roll.

“75 75 za 5625, 85 85 za 7225, 95 95 za 9025, 105 105 za 11025, 115 115 za 13225, 125 125 za 15625”.

I paused, both out of breath and because my tables beyond that were a tad shaky.

He looked at me with shock, admiration and some respect. However, like coriander in the sambhar, these only floated in a thick broth of dislike.

“See ? They wanted somebody smarter”, I said.

Knowing that my logic was wrong, I had still advanced the argument in the hope that he would be too dumb to point out a flaw in it.

I was right, and I was wrong. He was too dumb to point out the flaws in reasoning that led to assumed superiority. However, he was also strong enough to pummel me into abject submission, which he proceeded to do. I picked out the confetti of the comic book, which he had shredded over me as a sort of a finale, and went home to report that the park was unwholesome and could I please accompany elder sisters to their athletic practice. A smart move, since they protested in shrill tones and hence I achieved my aim of sitting at home without being forced to indulge in any physical activity.

I have fond memories of that neighbourhood; I saw very less of it.

haha! @ I was like the free dispenser sold with the extra large toilet cleanser bottle.

and everything in this post. that explains.

So now *we* 'play and make friends'? At long last? :)))

Alpha : Alpam. Trust you to get to the bottom of things.

Shankari :

Pehle usse friendship karo jisne mujhe maara tha.
Pehle usse friendship karo jisne meri comic phad di thi...


PHIR meri taraf haath badhaana aur main uff tak nahin karoonga.

(Overdose of the AB).

Kar li sab se 'friendship', ab kya karu.n, uff? :)

To mangle a quote ...

""I don't have a friend. But I do know a person who'd be mad at me for saying that."

Ha ha :D too good! 75 75 "za" 5625 :D

"Aaj khush to bahut hoge tum...."

dekh li teri yaari

"Humko toh yaara teri yaari
Jaan se pyaari" ...


Or would be, if I knew.

baari baari?

"Kaaghaz ke phool khilte hain jahaan, baith na un gulzaaron mein" ...Indeed.

pyaari indeed....but jaan se? poocho apne dil se...

aaj mile, kal rula na dena...

Yek gaon mein yek kisan ragu thatha.

Good one. Dispenser and za, as already noted.

lagta to hai ki the bhulana dena part has been conveniently forgotten- :D

Peccavi :

Aaj bichade hain, kal ka dar bhi nahin
Zindagi itni mukhtasar bhi nahin ...

A : Decoyed ya, didn't we ? Read thinkin no guzzles n all! Here we go!


( Didn't all of you go "za" as kids ?)

S : Subah ka bhoola shaam ko ghar aaye toh ... bechaare fatted calf ki maut hai!

A: and to think, poor deluded souls...hubby and i thot we were the only ones who knew about raghu thatha :)

wot mean mukhtasar

Been up to no good for a long time eh.

Pecky : Muktasar : brief.

Ph : Tcha, we be pureed as a saint. Puerile, one meant. Ooops, pure, PURE. Only our name can get us into trouble!

badi mukhtasar hai yeh jeevan ki rahen
aaj mile kal bichde chahen...

you dont talk to me anymore

kabhi, ek pal bhi
dil, mera bhoole
kabhi, muskuraakar dabe paanv aakar
Dukh,mujhko choole
Na kar, mujhse gham mere
dillagi, dillagi ...

Heh. You can't outmush me.

Peck away at the Pecc(a?/i?) friend. May the mush match continue!

S : Na bole woh na maine kuch kaha ...

Sigh, cept for the fact that we have jealously guarded our rights to anonymous commenting, one would have felt irked at the same.

Or am I typing this under a different nick ?


u cant say my link was less mushy than your lines... if anything a lot lot more so....

Raat ki bhooli agar do-peher bhi bhole to fatted cow ki maut hai :p

recycled lines....carrying conservation too far.

Uncalled for anonymity : cutting conversation too short ...

id right there...not anonymous

OH....unless u're talking of not giving a blog link...is cos i dont blog...just read all u clever peoples' ruminations and fulminations

"all u clever peoples' " ... thank you kindly. (Sarcasm is wasted on us : take things at face value).

And not a blog link. The id indicates you do know me. So quit playing games.

games? moi?

my my...got yer goat have we?

next time will aim for the buffalo, dont fancy goat milk.

... bhi kya din the,
Udte phirte titli banke...

Bullies notwithstanding.

Peccavi : Hehhhh. The boomerang is an enormously painful weapon :)

Me : Din were good. Now, Even The Nights Are Better :)

assaults during dream-time against tribal code.

assaults during dream-time against tribal code.

cracked me up this post!

worth the visit! :)

Peccavi : Read the Code of the Woosters.

Ms G ; Ahhhh...the lady is making an appearance again. NIce, nice nice ... and hang around; our bawling will steel you for the daze ahead!

aaaargh...if only, if only...

i'm reaing 'fooled by randomness' or some such boring tome...to drop that for a PGW...bliss (deferred)

so elucidate....pliss

good one.. I like your language . It is crisp and clean and the right use of the right word at the right place. Keep up the good work.

Now I know why we learn the multiplication tables.

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