I climbed up one this afternoon after a period of maybe almost nine to ten years and it brought back a flood of childhood memories, mainly centering around summer vacations and mango trees.
So, as is my wont, instead of studying for the impending exams that hang over my head like the proverbial sword of Damocles, I spent the remaining bit of the afternoon reminiscing those leisurely summer afternoons many eons ago, that I spent perched atop the mango tree in my garden with my friends , relishing kairies and the like, with the only worry being my mother coming out of the house to spoil my little party.
All that reminiscing surely brought a rather wide smile on my face, as I felt both amazed and amused. Amazed by the fact that those memories were so vivid and amused I was by the innocent mischief and foolishness of my childhood. ( Kindly do not comment on the foolishness of my teenage.) Of the numerous incidents and anecdotes that came to my mind, one stands out in particular, and that, I’ll share with you here.
Exactly when, I remember not, but we seemed to have, as part of our curriculum, the stories of Shivaji Maharaj and his mavalas or Maharana Pratap and his brave men.
So one sultry summer afternoon a few of us decided to engage in a little role-playing game ( as kids are prone to do) and we imagined ourselves to be the young and fierce soldiers of Shivaji, obsessed with the idea of Swaraj. The mango tree in my yard served as our hideout and we spent many hours conspiring against the rule of the Adilshah.
So engrossed were we, that the sun set and went to sleep but our little game continued
cxntinued till I clung onto a branch that wasn’t really there and had a rather (un)pleasant fall. My haap-pant apparently got entangled with a little stump protruding from the trunk, the result of a branch having been recently axed out.
Intelligent reader, I think you can now guess what happened thereafter. The velocity of my fall was tremendous and my haap-pant had become more like a haap-skirt, and there were a few bruises on my leg, besides of course a sprained ankle and some sore joints etc.
But I, dear reader, was a brave soldier of the Maratha kingdom that day. I didn’t shed a tear. Heck, I didn’t so much as let a sigh. I wanted to prove to my friends that I was the strongest of the lot. I just looked up to the heavens and smiled.
I had just escaped losing my manhood ( which I was just beginning to discover) by a cat’s whisker.
THAT evening, the realization hit me. There IS a GOD. And he loves me.
That alas, was also my last arboreal adventure. Mango-eating has been a much more civilized affair ever since.
The tree soon succumbed to whatever it is that trees succumb to.
But a new tree has now grown in its place and plucking the first fruit off it turned out to be a fun affair.
So much for the little pleasures of bachpan.
What, You never climbed up a tree? What a pity….
(The above incident actually occurred a couple of weeks back, before my exams. But since my made-in-1986 brain has a very modest 16 MB of RAM, there’s only so much cerebration that it can handle without crashing. So I chose to deal with Mr. Damocles first and am writing this post now, when the seas are calmer and the demands on the RAM are rather few.)
myl ove just became fonder!