Note: For those of you who noticed, I apologize for my long absence.
Warning: The detailed description in this post might offend your sensibilities.
So many of my conversations are peppered with stories from my childhood. My mom suggested that I make a note of all my memories before my brain embellishes them to an unbelievable extent.
As I am recounting things which happened in the past , it will be sweetened by the fact that it not just an experience anymore…it’s a memory. The facts may be tinged with feeling. When they did occur I was too young to think of them as special or realize that I was laying the first bricks of my life.
What I remember of my childhood is very vague and very intense. It’s like looking at an album of pictures…random pictures inside one’s head. But the memory of our first house is very alive in my memories. Whoever built that house definitely had a macabre sense of humor.
The house was a concoction of green and red. The green was the green of rotting pista ice cream and the red was from zinc oxide. The green part had vein like designs all over-thanks to bad paint job. It was as if the roots of an invisible tree were taking over the house. Ironically enough, later we found that a (baby) banyan tree was growing on our house and we had to regularly try uprooting it!
Here’s a general description of the layout. As you entered the house was the veranda. The veranda served many purposes. We parked our vehicles here…so it was not very surprising to find a few stains of oil leaks. On one side was the shoe rack where someone with time to spare could have discovered the first footwear ever made, the one Rama probably wore in Sri Lanka and even the one Gandhi wore on Dandi march. No choultry entrance could beat the number of footwear on this rack. The shoe rack was also reported to gobble up one shoe from every set…so there were a lot of widow-widower shoes…lying silently in despair on this wooden rack. On rainy nights the veranda was also our dog shed. To your right side was the bathroom which also housed the stairs to the terrace.
Many mornings, I would have to cross this maze of parked vehicles, an affectionate dog and the ever exploding shoe rack just to get to the bathroom!
On the left of the was the second bedroom which was probably called that as there was a mountain of haasge-hodge (bedding and bed sheets) on one side and the rest of the space was taken over by rattan chairs, an almirah, a mirror and a gigantic study. You had to climb on the study to answer the phone as our red and black phone was on one end of the study and only one who could aspire to lift the phone while standing was an “ajaanubaahu” (A person whose fingers reach his knees while standing up).
The wall which separated this from the other bedroom was my scrap-board. This wall was filled with multiplication tables, amateur sketches of crows, elephants, and sunrise (with a few birds flying across mountains-I bet there is no kid who hasn’t drawn that)… Kannada grammar, English alphabets …you could literally see my handwriting improve over time. I was hell bent on becoming a teacher, so whatever they taught in school, I came and wrote it on the wall teaching my own class of invisible pupil.
Now the bathroom was a marvel by itself. It was nothing less than an architectural wonder. The first thing you saw on opening the door was the stairs leading to the terrace….. How many of you can claim to have a stairway in your bathrooms?! But what you wouldn’t see was the deep open water tank hidden behind these stairs. If the plastic mug slipped out of your hand and floated to the other end of the tank…that was the last time you saw it. It could safely build a nest in the dark realms of that tank and procreate without ever fearing getting into a human hand again. Beside this tank was a “hande” (old style boiler) and we used a kerosene stove to heat the water. Every morning, you would suddenly hear “BBBbbbzzzzzzzzz” sound which meant in a few minutes you would be facing your ever affectionate dog. One of our guests had very naively asked whether there was some factory nearby.
We had to mix hot water from the hande, cold water from the spooky tank in a very heavy and old iron bucket. Because of the flames from the kerosene stove the whole place was covered in black soot. It was also very important not to wet the kerosene stove while you were bathing. I am still amazed that we bathed regularly in spite of such grave obstacles. We later got a shower installed, which also joined the community of rusting articles in our house.
Let’s not forget the stairs in the bathroom. Each and every step had its own individual purpose. The first two steps were for dumping clothes to be washed; third and fourth steps housed all our soaps, shampoos, tooth brushes, castor oil and my very old shikhakai dabba; Fifth and sixth steps were used for keeping our kerosene stove. Unless balanced at the exact angle, it had a tendency to come tumbling down…spilling kerosene on our toothbrushes on its way; seventh and eighth steps housed our gardening tools; the rest of the stairs were for all the miscellaneous items which we didn’t have any immediate use but we might have needed them if the aliens attacked or if someone in our house decided to become a ninja. We also had two gunny bags which stood there like grizzly bears ready to attack you. What they contained, I have no recollection. If you passed all these items…and the cobwebs and the spiders which jumped on your neck didn’t deter you from coming this far, you stood in front of a very old wooden door with a rusted lock. As you tried to open this lock it made a sound something like “karakarKKKaaRRaa” (repeat fast in your highest pitch). During monsoons, you also had to force the door open by colliding against it (you know how wooden doors get in rain).
The next room was the living room which also served as our dining room, bedroom and the entertainment room. At the centre of this room was a storage cupboard where all our gombe (dolls) were kept. This included a doll with one busted eye (with a straw dress) of which I was mortally afraid. This room had pictures of all major Gods looking down at us mortals from a height. Since this was also where the whole family slept, it could get kooky. If you got up in the middle of the night and a stray light hit the photos hanging above you…you had the distinct feeling that someone was watching you!
This room also had our very big dining table below which most of the dogs we had, spent their time.
Every night we had the arduous task of getting all the haasge hodge and arranging them in the hall. I had a forest green rug which I was madly in love with. I used it even when it lost all its fur and looked like a scraggy dog.
On the left of the living room was the master bedroom. This room housed a bed, two almirahs, a small hillock of haasge-hodge and dimboo and a refrigerator! This room also had a storage cupboard .One of the doors couldn’t be opened as it was obstructed by the bed and the other because the previously mentioned hillock was in the way. That doesn’t mean that we didn’t use it. This cup board housed all our cosmetics, our book collection and our cassette collection. Between the two almirahs is where we kept our chaape (jute mats) and it was a real pain to get them out when guests came without notice. This room also had an attic and it was a pastime to lie on the bed and wonder what was in each box. (The mixie box contained unused plates and spoons).The almirah doors were also blocked by the bed and the whole space was really crowded for an adult. So only children of the house could squeeze into that cramped place and get the necessary item out. Those times made me realize that calling purple- blue won’t help anyone!
To the right of the living room was a claustrophobic corridor which you crossed to enter what was probably one of the scariest kitchens in the world. This tunnel also featured two windows which opened into the bathroom, don’t ask me why! I have spent many evenings sitting on the first windowsill and demanding toll from people passing through this corridor. The corridor had a coating of sunna (Lime) so it was not very uncommon to see white powder on our clothing and body parts.
The kitchen had a dark nook with a chimney where we kept our gas stove. The backsplash made of splattered oil and food matter sparkled like freshly polished granite. The scariest view in the house (which is an achievement by itself) was definitely up the chimney. On one side of the kitchen was an old wooden table (painted light blue for unknown reasons) was the pedestal where we kept the mixie. Right beside it was our sink…which included a tap and an opening which was a feet below the tap. It was impossible to open the tap without getting wet yourself. On the other side of the tap was the stone grinder embedded into the floor. So one couldn’t use this grinder and the tap at the same time (unless u wanted water splashed all over whatever you were grinding). Along with water storage, drums for rice and dal…this too was a crowded place.
The kitchen also housed a puja place which had a rusted mesh gate. Every imaginable Hindu God resided there and while mom prayed, I spent my time trying to pull the mesh out.
The corridor also led to the passageway which housed a loo, tap and a water tank, a place to wash the clothes, do dishes and a rusted iron door to the garden. I liked placing my hand on the water surface in the tank…feeling the texture of water. It still remains my favorite sensation.
We may argue on many details but my family agrees on one thing. The loo was definitely the crowning glory of this house. It had a very modern design. It was an open design which meant it had no covering on top. This provided an excellent view of the sky…
But since the house beside us was higher than ours and had a terrace, we had to first peep and make sure that there was no audience. It was a square-ish place which had a blue metallic door which was rusting from all sides (too many things were rusting in that house).One way you could entertain yourself whilst you were there was by breaking off chunks of rusted metal from the door. I always felt that the faded blue door with its brown erratic edges was a beauty. This door finally broke and was kept aside. So you first went in, lifted the door and tried as much as possible to block the entrance. There were also some plants growing by the edges…and weeding was another option if you were not so much into art in metal. And don’t get me started on those rainy days when I had to carry an umbrella in there!
Another weird thing about the house was windows which opened into other rooms. There was a window in the living room which opened into the veranda, the two aforementioned windows in the corridor which opened into the bathroom and big meshed window in the veranda which could not be closed.
The house had its compensations-The beauty that was our big wild garden and our big terrace. It was not a cultivated garden…it was more like a forest. We had park-like concrete benches, big guava and cashew trees, rose bushes everywhere and a secret moss covered tap and a rubber hose which I confused for a snake many many times. On one side of the house was a bench with a parijaatha tree. I would do all my studying on this seat. I remember the soft smell of parijaatha…the feel of the bark of the skinny tree…its rough leaves. This tree was directly opposite the window of the second room where I did my homework. It was hard concentrating on homework when the fragrance was so intoxicating. These trees were my best friends. I spoke to them, hugged them often and taught them whatever I learnt in school.
Another oasis was our very big terrace. I spent so many afternoons there lying on my back, looking at the clouds go by. A part of the terrace was shaded by the guava tree…and when it got too hot, I would just nestle into the shade and doze off.
I cannot think of any place which is such a perfect combination of sheer ugliness, unsurpassed horror and surprising beauty. But most of all these memories stand as testament to those days of innocence where we didn’t realize the ugliness of that house. You see, for us it was our home where we grew up under so much love and affection.
Coming soon: Neighbors and stealing flowers
