Dad had just got posted to Bombay (it was called Bombay then) and we were ecstatic to be in this city - the place where Amitabh Bachhan resided, the place which was the film city, the place which was shown in most of the Hindi movies at that time. It was simply the "place to be" for a 15 year old who was going to join a new school, new class, new people, new friends. The very idea of being in a city at that age was exciting. I still remember when Dad came home early that sunny day in Siliguri (its a place in west Bengal - I am emphasizing about it being a place because the Bombay kids burst out laughing when I told them where I am coming from) and was standing with Mom in the hallway waiting for my brother and I. He was wearing his "fauji" uniform and mom looked stunning in a "salwaar kameez". And Gem (our lapchi breed dog) was sitting next to them. My brother and I came home and Karan Singh, our "helper bhaiyaa" opened the door for us. He looked sad for some reason.
We rush straigh in trying to race towards our room to change and go playing when suddenly we see both Dad and Mom standing in the hallway looking at us with an ear-to-ear smile. Before we could comprehend what was happenning our Dad said in a very energetic, excited voice.
"You know what kids?" ....pausing waiting for us to reply to that statement as if we were going to say "NO"
"Papa has been posted to Bombay"!!!
We were expecting this since it was time for dad's new posting but certainly were not expecting this surprise. It took a whole minute before my brother and I could congregate what our Dad had just uttered.
"Kya baat kar rahe ho"!..."You are kidding".... "Mama....Papa sach bol rahe hai kya?"
With in seconds we had confirmed, reconfirmed and then re-reconfirmed again with both Mom and Dad, whether what Dad had just said was true! We were just so excited. Gem was wagging his tail and running helter-skelter showing his excitement as if he knew what was being spoken and that he was too happy to be shifting to a new world.
Mom was so thrilled that the whole morning and afternoon she was doing packing or may be just shifting things from one room to other in excitement giving herself the false realization that she had started packing.
I started to recall the entire episode of 3 years' stay in Siliguri and the way we had cherished our time there. From unwillingly getting up early mornings in absolutely chilling winters to catch the school bus, to standing behind the girls in the morning prayers and tease them. From regular punishments from teachers to once making my Sanskrit teacher cry and quit the school in frustration. I used to be found standing out of the class so often that I was tagged the most "outstanding" boy of the school. I distinctly remember that once a teacher who unfortunately happenned to be our principal as well, was teaching us Chemistry and was holding a test-tube with some wierd pink liquid, in her hand.
And out of nowhere I get this urge to sneeze. I tell you, these sneezes sometimes are so ill-timed! I sneezed so hard that not only did my principal dropped the test-tube in fright, the teacher in the neighboring class came running to see what had happenned.
The whole class was thundering with laughter.
"Mam, I am sorry ... I just could'nt control it". And I could still hear those giggles in the class, that I thought were adding to my principal's rising temper.
"Jaydeep...GET UP....GET OUT!" was what she said.
The principal had not even finished saying it...and the whole class was in uncontrolled laughter again.
I remembered the day when while playing I had mistakenly hit my neighbour's kid with a stone and he had started bleeding profusely. And as a typical complaint box, a third kid who saw this incident ran to my friend's house to tell his mom. Unfortunately his dad was at home too, that day. And what was more unfortunate was that my friend was a Sardarji.
Kitni maar khayi yaar maine us din!
But like all Sardarjis are, after an hour they came home to apologize to me and in fact invited me for dinner. For a brief moment, I had this vague thought "ab khana khila kar marenge kya"! But they were sweet people. And afterall, it was an incident that had happenned while playing.
I remember that the bungalow at the back of our's had one of their bathrooms facing my bedroom. And that bathroom was mostly used by this really hot looking aunty. The highlight used to be evenings when she used to switch-on the lights and take a shower, completely ignorant about the fact that some "innocent" kid is appreciating her beauty...well actually the curves!
From those afternoon-till-late-evening games of cricket which used to result mostly in fights, to those parties at the club. Guys my age and I never used to miss parties at the club. Yeah the food was good, soft-drinks were on the house, tambola was awesome. But what used to inspire us more to attend the parties was getting a chance to dance with "this" girl our age. She used to wear mini-skirts that time with stilettos. She was our Aphrodite back then. "Man she was really hot".
Oblivious to the fact then, that girls grow taller, faster than guys during teens, I had mistakenly called this beauty "didi", only to find her sitting next to me on the first day at school. She was laughing all day and of course I was embarrassed, would be to say the least.
"How could I scr&w it up so badly"! How could I call her "didi"!!! Over time we started seeing each other. That typical "infatuation seeing" that kids that age call "forever love".
I realized why Karan Singh was upset earlier that day when he had opened the door for us. He was upset because we were soon going to leave Siliguri. Leave him, our house, dad's unit, those days behind. All that we would be carrying with us will be the memories. And of course truckload of a typical "fauji's" boxes and his never say die Fiat Padmini.
I realized that night that we had not gone playing in the evening, all keyed up and looking forward to the new life. To our dad's new posting.
Jaydeep Deshpande
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