I am pleasantly baffled at the recollection of my childhood memories. I am not sure if you experience the same. When I lose myself in my own thoughts I see a vista of my own childhood and all those things I was not able to understand.
One of them was an imminent confidence that used to radiate from when I am near an elder who belong to me. Be it my mother, father aunt or uncle. They used to look so towering and huge and make me feel that I am protected by Goliath.
I never realized at that time that I was small and I shall grow up the way they are. I used to watch them in awe as they stride like lion or a lioness in savanna. And very impressively they are so resourceful. If I wanted a sweet they somehow managed to get me one within a few minutes. Some time they used to treat me with sweets when I was least expecting them.
I used to look forward to the visit of my aunts who used to love about 8 miles away. They are my mother’s younger sisters. They used to hug me and talk so sweetly to me and always used to bring some goodies for me to eat. I always used to dream about their arrival. I used to run towards them when I detect their distance profile looming in to a clear picture. I used to grab their bags that are bigger than my own frame and tried to help them make feel comfortable. But of course they used to laugh and along with their own weight they used to heave me over their shoulders to make me feel I conquered the world.
I was so proud looking at my neighbors as I watch them over the shoulders of my aunts. They used to bring a cake like milk sweet that used to be so big and I some time had to use both of my hands to grab it. And mouth could not swallow it in a single shot. And then there was this superiority complex that made me incite other children to salivating greed. I deliberately used to lick the sweet… lest it not get consumed but let me not lose the pleasure of its taste. In that process I used to get my hands sticky and I promptly used to wipe them off my shirt.
Then my aunts used to make snacks at kitchen. To save time and enjoy the undisturbed privacy they used to do that past dinner. I could not sleep still looking at the prospects of eating them as they were made. Though I was chided in to sleep I used to loiter around. Some time I used to offer my help in return for a delicious reward. It was so wonderful an experience to sit in the warmth of earthen stove that converted batter in to snack through the culinary skills of my mom and aunts.
Then they used to store them in tins. For the first few days everything was democratic. What ever and how much ever I used to ask… I used to get. Then everything would turn despotic. Nothing was available even when I ask rarely. My imagination used to run faster than my little legs could carry me. I used to wonder where was that tin that used to be right here in this shelf. My futile search some times made me wonder if they were telling me the truth about snacks been exhausted.
Then one day we saw a tiny mouse grousing through our small kitchen. I took the personal responsibility of running after that. It was so skilful in avoiding my attempts to hit him and ran amid the stock of tins. I was equally adamant and my speed and focus on mouse made me not realize my stride that knocked off a few tins.
Voila… one of the tins rolled and lid blown off its body and… Ohh my god… what’s this??? My favorite sweets rolled out of the tin too. All the while I was given misinformation about their depletion and what I witnessed made my diabolically cute mind wonder if when I was told… that sweets and snacks are exhausted… they should really be exhausted.
I learnt a new thing in the process of my own evolution. That when snacks are exhausted, they really do not get exhausted. They are misplaced or lost in the maze of other tins. Yet it stuck not to me that it was a deliberate act on my elder’s part. Be it with the intent of protecting a possible decay of my tooth or in extending the pleasure of making them available for a longer time.
Since then I was never disappointed or discourage when they said sweets and snacks were exhausted. All I needed to do was make my own search. This was promptly noticed by my mom one day and she reprimanded me for disturbing the harmony of kitchen shelves.
Then I learnt a new thing. The stealth I must follow to get unnoticed while I make my search. I used to wait patently or rather impatiently till she used to go take her noon nap. I was so successful for the next few days till I was scared by that mouse again and fallen off the kitchen shelf creating a mini war torn scenario in the kitchen.
Now that was a disaster I never anticipated. My so called Goliath kind of elder who used to give me the total impression of protection showered choicest expletives along with an intense marathon of slaps.
Well… What else??? I wiped my tears after a while and decided that its too risky to search for truth… Err… I mean snacks in this cruel and unpredictable world….
Today when I look around all those elders are actually shorter than me. And the same milk cake is occupying a quarter of my palm. I still was innocent in asking my aunt about the bigger size of that milk cake when I was a child. I asked her why they make these sweets small in size now. She laughed heartily and told me. The sweet is of same size, but you have grown bigger.
Opps… I think… I am not grown completely yet….
One of them was an imminent confidence that used to radiate from when I am near an elder who belong to me. Be it my mother, father aunt or uncle. They used to look so towering and huge and make me feel that I am protected by Goliath.
I never realized at that time that I was small and I shall grow up the way they are. I used to watch them in awe as they stride like lion or a lioness in savanna. And very impressively they are so resourceful. If I wanted a sweet they somehow managed to get me one within a few minutes. Some time they used to treat me with sweets when I was least expecting them.
I used to look forward to the visit of my aunts who used to love about 8 miles away. They are my mother’s younger sisters. They used to hug me and talk so sweetly to me and always used to bring some goodies for me to eat. I always used to dream about their arrival. I used to run towards them when I detect their distance profile looming in to a clear picture. I used to grab their bags that are bigger than my own frame and tried to help them make feel comfortable. But of course they used to laugh and along with their own weight they used to heave me over their shoulders to make me feel I conquered the world.
I was so proud looking at my neighbors as I watch them over the shoulders of my aunts. They used to bring a cake like milk sweet that used to be so big and I some time had to use both of my hands to grab it. And mouth could not swallow it in a single shot. And then there was this superiority complex that made me incite other children to salivating greed. I deliberately used to lick the sweet… lest it not get consumed but let me not lose the pleasure of its taste. In that process I used to get my hands sticky and I promptly used to wipe them off my shirt.
Then my aunts used to make snacks at kitchen. To save time and enjoy the undisturbed privacy they used to do that past dinner. I could not sleep still looking at the prospects of eating them as they were made. Though I was chided in to sleep I used to loiter around. Some time I used to offer my help in return for a delicious reward. It was so wonderful an experience to sit in the warmth of earthen stove that converted batter in to snack through the culinary skills of my mom and aunts.
Then they used to store them in tins. For the first few days everything was democratic. What ever and how much ever I used to ask… I used to get. Then everything would turn despotic. Nothing was available even when I ask rarely. My imagination used to run faster than my little legs could carry me. I used to wonder where was that tin that used to be right here in this shelf. My futile search some times made me wonder if they were telling me the truth about snacks been exhausted.
Then one day we saw a tiny mouse grousing through our small kitchen. I took the personal responsibility of running after that. It was so skilful in avoiding my attempts to hit him and ran amid the stock of tins. I was equally adamant and my speed and focus on mouse made me not realize my stride that knocked off a few tins.
Voila… one of the tins rolled and lid blown off its body and… Ohh my god… what’s this??? My favorite sweets rolled out of the tin too. All the while I was given misinformation about their depletion and what I witnessed made my diabolically cute mind wonder if when I was told… that sweets and snacks are exhausted… they should really be exhausted.
I learnt a new thing in the process of my own evolution. That when snacks are exhausted, they really do not get exhausted. They are misplaced or lost in the maze of other tins. Yet it stuck not to me that it was a deliberate act on my elder’s part. Be it with the intent of protecting a possible decay of my tooth or in extending the pleasure of making them available for a longer time.
Since then I was never disappointed or discourage when they said sweets and snacks were exhausted. All I needed to do was make my own search. This was promptly noticed by my mom one day and she reprimanded me for disturbing the harmony of kitchen shelves.
Then I learnt a new thing. The stealth I must follow to get unnoticed while I make my search. I used to wait patently or rather impatiently till she used to go take her noon nap. I was so successful for the next few days till I was scared by that mouse again and fallen off the kitchen shelf creating a mini war torn scenario in the kitchen.
Now that was a disaster I never anticipated. My so called Goliath kind of elder who used to give me the total impression of protection showered choicest expletives along with an intense marathon of slaps.
Well… What else??? I wiped my tears after a while and decided that its too risky to search for truth… Err… I mean snacks in this cruel and unpredictable world….
Today when I look around all those elders are actually shorter than me. And the same milk cake is occupying a quarter of my palm. I still was innocent in asking my aunt about the bigger size of that milk cake when I was a child. I asked her why they make these sweets small in size now. She laughed heartily and told me. The sweet is of same size, but you have grown bigger.
Opps… I think… I am not grown completely yet….
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