My Childhood Home

Childhood homes are a special place. Mine I think is almost magical. It's where I grew up and I wish someday I could grow old. It's not a big house, but it has a big heart. It has embraced various family members, old and new. And continues to do so. Over the years the noise levels around have gone up, long ago we had to bid adieu to the sea view and the building now appears in a state of disarray. However once you step inside, you enter a different world. A world where my childhood is still awaits me. A world where time stands still. A world where I always breathe easier. This is home. 

It's the home of summer, where sea breezes visit
It's the calmness of palm trees, where hammocks swing
It's bears the joy of untold tales
And the smiles of secrets shared
It's where bonds of friendships grow tighter
And where family ties get stronger 

It belongs to my childhood nostalgia
Which is re-visited every year
It's where my children rediscover me
And build memories of their own

It's mine and mine alone, now I can't say
It lives in the hearts of all those whom it's touched
It now belongs to Sanil, to Myrah, to Kabir
But in my heart it feels like it speaks to me alone 

It's a sanctuary where I am reborn
It's my home where a part of me still lives

Looking back at childhood

Nostalgia comes in various forms. Sometimes it's a gradual and lovely stroll down the memory lane. This usually happens when you are pouring over old photo albums, or meeting a childhood friend after awhile or reminiscing growing up with your siblings or cousins.

At other times nostalgia has a fucking weird way of smacking you right out of nowhere. I was sitting by my condo poolside today and saw some little girls play with a skipping rope. I did not realize kids these days still skipped rope. And suddenly I had this gush of memories engulf me. I immediately picked my phone and messaged my closest childhood friend who I have not seen or spoken to in last five years.

And when she said that she misses me and I replied that I think of her very often too, I started tearing up. Now as crying alone by the pool side with an empty glass of wine on the table was simply not an option, I decided to pen my nostalgic thoughts. And of course by 'pen' I mean fly my fingers on the iPad touch screen keyboard.

For God knows what reason we played on the staircase on the third floor of our building. Two of my best friends lived on the 3rd. We each got our toys to the staircase which comprised of tea sets, miniature kitchen utensils, adhoc dolls (we never grew up with gorgeous Barbies and their fancy accessories) and other random stuff like beads, mums old costume jewelry, etc. It was a weird ensemble of toys and knick-knacks, but we knew better than to ask for more. Our parents did not given into our demands as easily as we do nowadays. Yet we were content. Almost blissful.

We rode bikes, they were rusty and most of the time borrowed. We played games like sankli, kho-kho and lagori (which iPad auto corrects to algorithm). I was never the sporty one, but my friend Monika always made sure I was picked in her team so I would not feel left out. We played till the sun went down and the moon came up and our mums yelled from the windows for us to come up for dinner. 

As we grew up we went for walks to the beach or around the building. We sat on the 'tanky' (water tank) and gossiped about everyone who walked by. And when we wanted some privacy we went up to our secret spot on the terrace- by far still one of my most favorite places in the whole wide world.

We ate street food everyday during the holidays- roadside sandwich, bhel puri, dosa with suspicious looking white chutney. But we could never tell our mums that we would skip dinner. 

During summer holidays we went swimming at Juhu gym and ate chicken club sandwich after. We would the leisurely walk back but never go home. We would get end up in another friends house and simply continue playing, chatting, giggling. 

Our parents didn't keep tabs on us. As long as we were home by 8 pm, there were no questions. A minute later and it would be completely a different conversation.

Friends covered each other's back. No matter what. "Yes Aunty, she was with me all the time" was recited in utmost sincerity, even though the friend in question was actually holding hands with the boy from the next building for the past one hour. 

We grew up with one channel on TV and one TV in the house. We learnt to share. 

There was one phone line for the longest time. We learnt to exchange hellos with our parents and siblings friends.

Family dinner meant eating with the family. On the same table. And usually a friend who decided to stay as her mum was not home or just because she fancied mums dahi vadas. We learnt to open our homes to others.

Picnics meant an entourage of 8 or 10 Marutis and Fiats and food enough to feed an army. My favorite picnic food till date is aloo-puri. We learnt to accommodate each other's preferences.

Movies were watched in big groups in front of a small TV. We got chips and Thums up when mums were in a good mood. We learnt to bond over the frivolous. 

Holi meant the whole building would get together and have fun. We learnt to party! 

Diwali meant visiting pretty much every relative alive and each house in the building. We learnt to give our time to others. 

Friends siblings were treated like your siblings, unless they were of the opposite gender, appropriate number of years older and you had a crush on them. We learnt to protect and be protected. 

They were times when rainy season meant paper boats and summer days meant kala ghatta golas. When joys were sought in the little and shared with many. When life was lived in carefree abandon. Where the biggest worry was...well there were no big worries. When laughter filled the air and loved filled the senses. When you cared enough that when decades later you missed your childhood friends, you knew they have been missing you right back! 

It's ironic that we better understand the value of the childhood we've had only when we are older. Because when we were growing up, we never gave a seconds thought to growing old. 

The Little Girl Inside You

 It was International Women's Day on Friday. Lots of wishes flying back and forth. Many inspirational quotes made appearance on Facebook. Women threw parties, went clubbing, some were pampered by their spouses, others treated themselves to good old retail therapy. My boss very kindly gave all the women in office a half day to acknowledge their roles as wives, mothers, daughters, sisters and more than anything as women. It was a happy time all around- some over happy hours even.

It got me thinking about all the women in my life- badi mama (my grand mum), my mum, my aunts, my cousins, friends, nieces, colleagues, and even the women around me who I see on the bus, by the pool, at school, at work, in the supermarket. Today these women have busy lives with their careers, their husbands, their kids, their ageing parents, their kitty party friends, their catty colleagues and more. 

However at one time each of these women was a little girl. A little girl with big dreams. Some dreamt to be a princess and wear pink everyday. Others envisioned themselves as doctors saving lives. Yet others wanted to travel the world as a journalist. Or become a teacher, a baker, a model, an actress, a gymnast, a singer, a war correspondent, a ballet dancer. Limitless possibilities. Countless dreams. Some were innocent dreams like marrying a prince who had a white horse. Some were ambitious like becoming a leading fashion designer and having Madonna as their customer. 

Some little girls loved to dress up dolls. Others adored jewelry especially tinkling colored glass bangles. Many loved crayons and some preferred water colors. There was the Tom-boy, the girl-next-door, the miniature diva, the bossy pants, the goody-two-shoes, the bookish nerd (yes that was me). Each unique. Each special. Each with her own likes and dislikes. Her preferences and priorities. Her passion and pet peeves. Her love and her fears.

But what each and every one of them had in common was the big girl dream. "What will I be when I grow up?" She thought about it constantly. While sitting on the swing. While day dreaming in class. While lying on the grass in the park. While sitting by the window seat in the bus.

Some little girls spoke about her dreams to their best friends while sharing a milk shake. Some confided in their mums. Others with their sisters. While some kept every dream a secret, lest anyone steals it. At slumber parties they discussed their future together. They shared their hopes loudly and spoke about their fears in hushed voices. 

Where is that little girl today I ask you? Does she still exist? Or is she lost in the demands of her kids? In the commands of her husband. In the complaints of her in-laws. In the expectations of her boss. In the commitments of her family. In the claims of her career.

She is lost perhaps in the supermarket aisles. In the train queues. In the elevator lobbies. In the PTA meets. In the car pools. In the soccer matches. 

She tries to find herself in shopping malls. In yoga classes. In barbecue parties. In wine bars. In island getaways. In coffee sessions. 

But alas! It seems she can't be found!

Because no one is looking for her in the only place where she still lives. Deep inside the heart of us big girls. She lies there. Waiting to be found. Wishing to live her dreams. 

I urge you all today to go find her. Coax her to come out. Explain to her that even though the dreams lay unfulfilled, there is still time. Time to make those dreams come true- may be not in a big way, but come alive all the same.

Its too late to be a journalist, but not too late to write for a community newsletter. It's tough to study medicine now, but you can volunteer your time in a hospital. It's too late to have kids, but there are millions of orphans who are starving for affection. 

And it's never too late to learn. Pick up the paint brush. Brush the dust off the old guitar. Take up a baking course or a drama class. Don't resist the urge to dance. And if your heart desires to sing aloud, do so.

Of the many forwarded messages on International Women's Day, this one stood out for me:

"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us, are tiny matters, compared to what lies WITHIN us"

So search for that little girl within you and let her live out those dreams. 

Wishing all my lovely friends and family a very happy International Women's Day.