Nostalgia

What can be more nostalgic than going to one's school after a gap of nearly 40 years? That is the experience I had recently.

I was invited to my friend's son's wedding in Ranchi in the same township that I grew up in - Shyamali colony. My friend works in Mecon and lives in the same township in which he grew up in and works for the same organisation that his father worked!

Five of our classmates with whom I am in touch decided to make the journey back in time - so to speak. I booked my tickets about three months in advance ensuring that I got reservations via Calcutta. The entire journey was by train and I enjoyed looking at all the stations that I had peered long ago. The only difference was that I travelled by AC coach, whereas long ago I travelled by III class sleeper or First class (if we were travelling on LTC).

Anyway, we visited our school, and were surprised that it has become huge and is decently maintained with a nice patch of rose garden.

I met the Principal and we sat and were discussing the various memories that we had; our teachers and the other students. One of my classmates who had also come was a school topper and we did mention that he was one and that his name was on the merit list board in the school.

The teachers and the Principal were quite happy to receive us in the school when suddenly the Principal took out a Guest Book and asked us to see the book. While we were flipping through the pages, I saw my father's name in the book. He had come with me on 01-Oct-1969 when I had been admitted to the school in VII standard. (His name was A.S.Dandapani and that entry can be seen in the photo alongside).

My sporting life

Its been some time since my last blog. Many unsavoury things happened in December 2012 and the most unsavoury was of course the gang-rape and "murder" of a 23 year old in Delhi, Nirbhaya (not her real name). I thought out of respect to her, I should refrain for some time from posting anything that is not serious. And blogs are not for serious posts! At least not mine.

I have been watching some cricket of late and India's decline specifically. After losing the Test series to England at home, we managed to draw the T20I series (1-1) and lost the ODI series to Pakistan (2-1). Yesterday we lost the first ODI to England. So amidst all this gloom and my relative's exhortation that those who watch cricket are only wasting their "precious" time, I reflected on what did I achieve in my school and college days. Nothing, really. No competitive sport.

I grew up in  a township in Ranchi and we had less people there when I was in school. The township roads used to be pretty empty - thus my friends and I would draw the boundary lines on the road (tarred road) and play hand tennis. We had "fault". No "let" call since there were no nets. We also played "doubles" to ensure that there were no spectators - all players! I don't recall anyone reprimanding us from playing on the road. Life was simple. After sometime I graduated to play cricket on a ground not yet developed for township purposes. It was pretty flat, adjoining a railway track connecting Hatia to Ranchi junction. Amidst the chugging of an occasional goods train, we would bowl and bat there. I may not have lasted a few balls with the bat, but I was considered an amazing fielder and, not unlike some current Indian players, would be included in any side solely based on my fielding.

There was a "friendly" match being played between two schools and I was drafted into the side simply because there were not enough players who had come to the ground! I lasted a couple of balls and was probably bowled moving towards the leg side when facing a pace bowler. I remember our captain, RS (called "nai" for a reason I don't recall) had a few unsavoury things to say to me for lasting just a few deliveries and not troubling the scorers. I decided to retire from all forms of cricket after that episode. However, my retirement was not to be. During the "games" period in my school, I happened to hold the bat and Nai was bowling! He was smiling to himself thinking he would get another wicket in the same over. Ha ha! Not so fast mate. Not only did I NOT move towards the leg-side at the time of his bowling, but I smote him for a few boundaries and by the time the bell rang for the period to be over, I was still playing with a creditable half-century. My only one! He didn't have the guts to say anything to me after that. But unlike Afridi, my retirement was final. I concentrated on table tennis later. Couldn't get hurt, see!

Age of Innocence

We grew up in a township in Ranchi (now in Jharkhand, but then in the early 1960's, in Bihar). It was just being formed and the houses were new and would often leak during the monsoon rains, the roads unpaved, the gardens and playgrounds being developed, no hospital yet, just an MI room (you can see in the building in the background with the red + sign).

But that age was an age of innocence, of finding happiness in small pleasures and treasures, of playing in whatever facilities were available. Even a heap of sand was a playground, where we could make some tunnel, and imagine a stone (as a car) moving through it as if we were driving a car through a tunnel in a mountain.

This photo is priceless in our family not because of any great photo composition or lighting, exposure, contrast or any such other gimmicks. If I remember right, the camera was a basic pin-hole type camera which took a 120 mm film (good for 16 exposures per roll). It is great because it shows the three of us (siblings) laughing. And laughing for God knows what reason. It is also priceless because we were spontaneous and enjoying the moment. I remember there were many such moments in our childhood, but this photo is the only one that captures our days in Ranchi - the days that we cannot forget, the days that we yearn to go back to.

If you look closely you can see the safety pins holding the blouse of my sister (to the right) in place. She obviously did not believe in "dressing" herself up before being "shot". That came later when she started going to college. We couldn't afford many good dresses anyway, and probably all we had then were a couple of "wearable" but washed and clean clothes. I don't recall ever any of us having worried about that or comparing ourself with other 'well to do' guys in the township. A township life is not easy since in a small place the General Manager's kid is also sharing the same space as a clerk's child. Probably they would have to go to the same school. I don't recall my father ever having to say to me not to move or be friends with some guys just because we wouldn't gell together or we were not of the same 'status'.

An age of innocence perfectly captured for posterity.

When will the Time Machine be ready, man?