The lane that leads to school

It was a pilgrimage. It was a homecoming. It was a memory lane. It was yesterday once more. It was a bunch of yapping fifty plus menopausal women who rediscovered their giggles and howls of laughter. Laughed like they had they had forgotten what it was to shriek and laugh. And inside they cried for the years gone by. They cried for the school which was still the same and yet had changed. They looked into each corner trying to remember the way it had been.Trying hard not to hide the disappointment at seeing the changes,taking it in their stride and yet in their heart of hearts missing the ways that were. 36 years on,things have to change.The old order changeth to give place to the new.
We closed our eyes to recapture what was ours. The uninhibited running to meet each 'girl' as she entered the gate was the hi of every morning as we cycled ,came on rickshaws ,dropped by parents or walked down to school. The embraces had a warmth which comes from a flame which has been kept burning in some subterranean region waiting for this very moment to come out. There was the basketball court ,the baskets difficult to uproot I suppose. The familiar blue  checks led many  a hand to unconsciously touch their collars resulting in  some silent,some loud sighs. The discipline of the years were lost. Teachers, Principals, officers, mothers all became an unruly bunch. So good it was a Saturday and school was having some Saturday activity. We had young curious onlookers who were in turns aghast, amused and puzzled by our very rowdy, very excited  behaviour. We crowded in to the assembly hall tempted to fall into lines according to our houses. We climbed on to the beloved stage.That at least was still the same except for a lone table tennis table in one corner. We never did have table tennis in school. The piano,to whose cords we had marched out of the hall after morning assembly  was missing,discovered later in the adjacent room. Nothing could discipline us now.We posed,we touched the walls with affection, we peeped into rooms and moaned the rooms we could not find. We literally ran from one end of the school to the other, commenting on the changes, the was and the is. We could not believe that so many of us ,fifteen almost could have met after decades in the school.We could not believe that we had managed to plan a trip to the school together.Our class 10th was todays class 9.Our chemistry lab was now class 10.Oh, and our teachers were all gone. Many have passed on to the other world, many have retired. None from our days remain. It made us feel so old.Our age hit us. School was not the same without seeing those much loved,much admired, much feared faces.They who have given us values ,our education, our moral strengths ....she came to met us at just one request from us. And then the school came alive for us.This is what we have imbibed in school, the large heartedness, the connect ,the bond of being a family. The 'miss' who took us under her wings when as  five year olds many of us left  our parents fingers and held on to our teachers' or the 'miss' who was a terror yet opened the world of Shakespeare ,the poetry of Keats , the stories of Premchand and even the sound of music to us came alive then. Each breath we took was of memories and names and faces; of incidents, of friends, of activities, of clubs and the ice cream and chiclet  man.It was as if the present was no more, just the past gloriously golden in memories. The rough edges  smoothened by that very heady drug  called nostalgia!I thought I saw the swish of a crisp cotton sari behind that desk, someone else heard the beat of march past  drums. A 'present miss' echoed in the classrooms and the charts on the softboard behind bore our mark. So many moments to relive,so many years and days tumbling over one another.So much just pouring out from our hearts.Nothing can keep pace. And then it was time to go.
I won't say I've had enough. But enough to make hearts smile for many a while. Enough to put the skip back in the steps and the head a spin. Enough to be fifteen and less .Enough to be grateful.

Love is a four-legged word!

   When does a family of four have five members?  When does one pair of eyes drown all the shouting and shrieking tantrums of kids? When do you love to take a walk even if it is two at night?  It happens only when there is a dog as a pet in the house. Life changes and how!  So it happened when Simba entered our lives as a lively two month old. He walked into our house all hairy coat and tail, white with black spots, huge for a pup with eyes that could melt the Arctic ice and paws that took him straight in our laps and onward to our hearts. He resides there ever since.

  Simba is our majestic St Bernard, now of course the elder of the family at his dog year age of nine and a half years. Sadly the years show. We reminisce of the time when he would climb over us after having had his meal or when he was feeling particularly affectionate. He is huge and so his expression of love would be a knock down 55 kg hug with his paws on our shoulders and nose nuzzling our necks. We had to firmly plant our feet on the ground to steady ourselves. Simba is a part of our family and has a different relationship with everyone. He is friends with Akanksha, after all both are children. He fights with her, plays with her but is a little scared of her too like all younger siblings. Harsh is not a keen dog lover so Simba keeps a distance from him, a very working relationship with the son whom he meets very infrequently. Harsh comes home only on vacation so Simba goes to him for a bit of scratching under his chin or a little petting and that’s that. With me he knows who rules the kitchen and where he should go when he is hungry. But his best is reserved for Amit, the man of the House and the Master of Simba’s heart. He is the one Simba idolises. There is no one else for him when Amit is around. Amit back from office is the highpoint of Simba’s day. “First pet me” says his bark and frisky impatient body language, “then do anything else”. When Amit comes back from TD one should see Simba’s tail. It wags violently in happiness on seeing anyone of us after a few days absence but with the master it goes round and round in joy and bliss. It is a moment of unalloyed happiness to see Simba like this. His favourite place is laps either Amit’s or Akanksha’s and sometimes mine too. He thinks he is small enough to fit in there! There is a lot of difference in the young Simba and the old. Earlier he would be all too eager to sit in the lap, now he just puts his head there and is at peace. Simba’s affection is overwhelming and over powering. But he is protective too. He is wary of strangers and will continue to bark and make life miserable for a person who is scared of him or whom he does not trust.
  But if you were to ask me about what Simba likes best then I’d say it is travelling. We go on long trips in our Qualis with Simba at the back. He simply adores it. He has enough space at the back to move around or sit on one of the seats and look out of the window. If he gets bored with the window view he will stand up and look out of the rear door or just face the front with his head resting on someone’s shoulders. I remember a time when we had driven up to Kasauli. Simba refused to come out of the car wanting to go further! We were dog-tired but our dog was fresh as a daisy! If he finds any car door open, he will swiftly get into the car ready to go.
  I could go on and on about him. He is a gentle giant, big body ,bigger heart!And in his heart resides boundless love for us, our extended family members, our friends,puppies and would you believe it , for corncobs and Shrewsbury biscuits. He can smell if we are having hot ‘bhuttas’ or Shrewsbury biscuits a mile away and will come running, drooling and tongue ‘a lapping’. He will stand there waiting for his share and a short sharp bark if we ignore him.
  As I write this he is sleeping near my feet, stretched out on the floor. Occasionally I feel a paw urging me to scratch him, or a head coming stealthily nearer to rest on my foot. I move my leg and he will raise his head cocked to one side as if to say “Hey,Can’t you sit still” and then he is off to sleep again or if I scratch him he turns over and lies on his back all his four feet in the air, his most ecstatic position. Difficult to judge from his face but I can imagine he is grinning. As am I. Smiling fondly and thinking,
“A dog doesn’t care whether you are rich or poor,

Smart or dumb

Give him your heart and he will give you his!”