Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?

Rajendra aka Raju, an octogenarian, was basking in the sun. It was a winter forenoon, and he was enjoying the cosy warmth of the sun sitting on his balcony. The chirping birds and occasional vehicular sound of city traffic were like background music, which, though adding dimension to the surroundings, are seldom noticed because of their usual nature. Being nearer and visible, the birds were his natural playthings, and he used to feed and talk to them. 

Ostensibly, he was calm, but his mind was stormed with different shades of thoughts. Caught in a vortex, the whirlpool of thoughts was churning. A little far away, a feeble sound of a song took him back in time. Diving deep in his nostalgia, his journey down memory lane had started.

It was the summer season. In the open spaces, especially in villages, plumes of dust were a common sight. The open campestral, after harvesting, presented a barren look. The season happened to be a recess time for people in villages. As the fifth month of the year approached, the season progressively would become hot; warm “loo” started lashing the plains of the North. The roads would become deserted except for sparse traffic of bullock carts, and one or two horse-driven carts, “Ekka”, ferrying people were seen.

One such warm forenoon, Raju aimlessly came out of the house and tramped towards a local Bazaar situated at the turn of a district road that used to be a dirt road covered with pebbles dug out from local fields. The time was when the infrastructure was at its low ebb. Roads were not developed, and places seemed far off.

While walking past mango orchards, he saw a bullockcart pulling some goods. Bullock carts were a usual sight in villages and occasionally even in the cities as well. The bulls would raise their legs and place them in a manner of pulling the lug with considerable ease. Unconsciously, Raju’s mind registered this scene. It became imprinted on his mind and occasionally comes before him off and on.

A few furlongs away was a habitation. It was the part of the village community but with a difference. Amidst the field, there used to be a temple the main deity was Goddess Durga, a degree college and a small marketplace. A post office serving the purpose of the postal hub of the whole village was also there as a vital link to connect the near and dear of the people. Besides acting as a messenger, the post office also acted as a mini bank to keep small savings of the villagers. Post offices, with hanging insignia of red-coloured letter boxes, were important government offices that served various functions.

During summers, when the school was closed for summer vacation, Raju used to visit this place and spend his time roaming in a small mango orchard, watching people working in the fields and taking care of their cattle. Bullocks used to be an asset during that time when mechanized farming was a distant dream. Bullocks were used in ploughing fields, dragging water from the well and lugging heavy loads in a cart known as a bullock cart which has been said above.

The days used to be lavish for him. Raju enjoyed the sweetness of mangoes which were aplenty. The mango orchard, having a solo “Mahua” (Butter tree, Madhuca longifolia) tree amidst varieties of mango trees, was his favourite place. He would visit this place and enjoy the sighting of hanging mangoes. Occasionally, Raju would climb the tree and feel a unique sensation looking down the tree.

“The tube well is on”, someone announced. It used to be a moment of joy for the child Raju. With some elders, he enthusiastically visited the tube well to enjoy a bath in gushing water coming out of a pump. That happened to be a thrill as the tank of the tube well was deep and slippery for a boy of his age. Raju preferred to dip in the supplying canals that came out of the reservoir.

Different modes of irrigation intrigued him. He would watch with curiosity the way water fell from the small cans attached to a chain. It was the “Rahat” (Persian wheel or Water wheel) that was in the form of a large wheeled structure garlanded with a long looped chain affixed with cans at small intervals. Driven by oxen, the wheel would turn the chain of buckets, downside up, dipping in the water below and coming up containing water in them to empty in a shallow pond-like structure that drove the water to fields through a canal. It was a full-time job engaging a person or two to run.

He enjoyed bathing in yet another type of irrigation mode. It was a large container consisting primarily of leather affixed with wooden cross bars acting as a handle to tie it to a long rope. In vernacular language, it was called “Mot”. The leather bucket would be lowered in a well to fill it with water and the filled container was pulled by bullocks moving on a ramp.

The “Mot” would empty on a low-bordered bevelled platform. The water was used to irrigate the field. Raju would happily lie down on the platform and squeal with joy when water was gushed on him. The well was between twin trees of Mango and Azadirechta, just a few paces behind his home.

The hot “loo” had started dying down. The sweet cooing of “Koel” (Cuckoo) was becoming less frequent. A cool breeze had replaced the cool easterlies. The scorching heat had considerably mellowed down. The atmosphere became humid. The specs of clouds were becoming dark and patchy. Large birds like kites and vultures started soaring high in the sky in a circular motion. Occasionally few drops would fall causing petrichor.

The inebriating petrichor fragrance became prominent. Lo and behold! The drops became frequent, and it was raining. The first rain after a long dry spell of heat and dust had changed the scenario. It relieved every organism from the scorching heat. The torrential rain had started and water from all sides was entering in fields and brimming ditches and the pond. Loud crocks of frogs and the chirping of crickets were heard, making the atmosphere romantic.

His school was set to reopen after the summer vacation. It was time for him to return to his routines, leaving behind the quiet and pleasant rural atmosphere for the city.

His chain of thoughts was broken. He was to take his evening tea. After a long eight-decade gap, living alone with his wife, he was thinking about his past. He has nothing material to call his prized possessions except for his fond memories of his childhood. His cherished possessions have accumulated to tell his story to the younger generation and his grandchildren.

Raju later started to write his feelings in a diary and tried to paint vivid word pictures. He meticulously started writing about his feelings. Some of his accounts, nevertheless, were destroyed by natural causes. A few of them remained and are tucked in somewhere in the almirah along with some of his collection of old books.

The physical possessions are momentary and perishable. Raju, being an emotional person wanted to keep every bit of paper, possessions, toys, stone figurines, old currency notes and materials of like. Most of them have either been misplaced or destroyed but some are with him. Whenever Raju happens to open them, he fondly caresses them and slips into his past.

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