Down summery lane!

My memories of the score and three summers that I’ve seen are divided into distinct periods. The mention of summer vacations brings back nostalgic memories of Calcutta, where I was born and spent a major part of my childhood. The vacations in Calcutta, where the school sessions were in resonance with the calendar year, meant a break just as the pace of studies at school was beginning to pick up.
The vacations were meant to spare the pupils the hassles of commuting to school in the heat. But part of the fun was lost due to the fact that the students were assigned tonnes of ‘Holiday Homework” (a contradiction in terms, now that I come to think of it!!)
Most of us managed to get over the obstacle by clearing out the homework on a war footing. We would then be rendered free to pester our mothers throughout the day.
One summer, my mother decided to harness the potential in me. She taught me, over the subsequent vacations, the preparation of tea, coffee and several other recipes. Beginning with the basics at the beginning of the holidays, I would sharpen my skills to that of an expert by the time schools reopened.
Getting me to stand by her side on a stool and add ingredients under her expert eye, had been a shrewd human resources management move: it saved her the trouble of constantly keeping a tab on me and my activities. In addition, it saved her part of the daily grind. She had put the theories of human resources management into practical use long before good old Rajiv got himself an independent minister for the department.
I am, by some standards, an accomplished cook now and can hold the fort whenever the need arises. So much so, that during my occasional fits of depression, I take the daring decision to remain a bachelor throughout my life, eking out two square meals putting my culinary expertise to use.
But the thought of disappointing scores of girlfriends at one stroke deters me from my determination. In any case, I would definitely like to earn the ‘punya’ of answering the prayers of at least one of them.
Summer memory
In the later part of my childhood at Calcutta, the vacations also meant visiting the tourist attractions in the city, and the most frequented places would be the Zoo at Alipore, the Nehru Children’s Museum and Birla Technological Museum. The last named was my favourite, and I made monthly visits to the place even during the rest of the year.
One distinct memory I have of my childhood summers is the long face of my ‘mamashree’ on Sundays and holidays, when he had to stay home and miss the cool comfort of the huge coolers put up at his office – LIC. I now have several opportunities to visit the LIC office, and find that the coolers are the only ones who work sincerely throughout the day.
We then shifted to Nagpur, and summers came to assume entirely different meanings. Summer vacations meant loafing around without any care in the world, since the examination would be over by then and the only thing we could do was to keep body and soul together for our teachers to hammer knowledge into our heads in the next class.
While in high school, we spent our summer afternoons playing the game of ‘business’ (‘Byopaar’ in Hindi – the Indian version of the American ‘monopoly’).
We would spend hours trying to make our fortunes around the board, buying up properties in Bombay and building ‘houses’ and ‘hotels’ on it. The game board would be divided into several squares, and each named after famous localities in Bombay, and priced accordingly.
But the prices at which we nonchalantly bought and sold these gold-edged pieces of real estate, would definitely make any real-estate dealer gladly jump into the Arabian Sea.
As the sun tilted towards the western horizon, our enthusiasm waned for the day.
Outdoor
Then would begin a game of cricket that would last well into the late hours of the evening. Only the inability of our star batsmen to see the ball would make us draw the stumps; hunger and thirst bore little importance.
The love for cricket manifested itself in the form of an under-19 tennis ball cricket tournament one summer. The tournament tested our organisational and managerial skills to the very limit, and we came out with flying colours, to say he least, despite a few ‘crises.’ The few protests and incidents of unruly behaviour brought out the best of the crisis managers in us, and the skills have stood us in good stead even today.
I also used to spend part of the vacations exploring the city on a bicycle along with a friend of mine, who was an enthusiastic cyclist.
The two of us would bike into all odd lanes and by-lanes, trying to get to know which lane connected which road to which other road, trying to discover short-cuts and roads that would bypass busy streets.
We never got lost. We developed the skill of remembering every turn that we took, and would recall the route taken, backwards as it were, during our ride back home.
The two of us also developed our powers of observation, as we tried to remember the distinct landmarks of each locality. These powers have developed over the years, and any ‘subject’ within our eyesight undergoes a detailed ‘scrutiny’ of the ‘outstanding features.’
These outings have also helped me in my present profession of a journalist. The knowledge of the nooks and corners of a major portion of the city has obviated much of the need to ask for directions whenever I am sent scurrying to the site of an accident, or on an assignment at a vague-sounding venue.
The ability of recall the route taken has also helped me on my visits to strange cities, where one has to foot it for kilometres trying to locate the address in hand.
Nocturnal outings
The best vacation was the one after my HSC exams. I would just eat and sleep and loaf around during the day. After dinner, me and two of my ‘langoti yaars’ would get together, go for a cup of ice cream and for a walk, and we would talk about all things bright and beautiful into the wee hours of the morning, much to the chagrin of our folks.
I’ve still not gotten over the habit of nocturnal outings, and have earned quite a notoriety for being a ‘creature of the night.’
When I was studying for my diploma at the polytechnic during the last two years of my student life, I had no summer vacations, strictly speaking.
The annual examination would begin somewhere in the first week of May, and continue into the first week of June. So, while other students had a whale of a time, we pored through books and notes.
But then, we would have the last laugh. By the time we finished our examinations, schools, and, more importantly, colleges, would reopen, and we would loaf away our time while others ran helter-skelter trying to get their hands on uniforms, new books, copies and what not.
Since our session started after August, we faced to crisis because of shortage of notebooks, books, paper or anything else. Being free when colleges reopened had its own advantage. We could free indulge in bird watching, which would be particularly pleasing since the birdies would turn out in their ‘beginning-of-the-year best’!
Incidentally, it was only after I joined polytechnic that I started wrapping a cloth round my head during summer to avoid falling sick and ruining my career just when I was on the threshold of it. Till then, using any sort of protection against the blazing sun hurt my masculine arrogance, and I and my friends used to avoid wearing caps or any equivalent devices at all costs.
But things have changed. The ladies would simply wrap their ‘pallus’ and ‘dupattas’ around their heads, until a few years ago. This tendency has now given way to cute caps and attractive scarves, that add ‘chaar chhands’ to the ‘Khubsoorti’ of the fair sex.
While summer vacations meant tons of ‘Ganne ka ras’ and water melons and ice cream, it hardly bears any significance to my lifestyle now. I am caught up in such mundane matters as my basic salary, the DA, my casual leaves, my balance of earned leaves, the naggings of the boss (I don’t have a wife, thank God!), et al. Rather tragic, eh?
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, May 8, 1990.)