One Living Life: My Childhood Days

Wednesday 3 August 2011

My Childhood Days

“Get up… how many times more do I have to call you?” screamed my mother. Well, school days have always given jobless mothers good jobs. Mothers were usually meant for packing us to school during those days. As I rubbed my eyes and tried to cover them from a streak of annoying light, another scream was preparing to rip my ear-drums apart. The heavy towel landed on my sleepy head making it heavier and the jolt prompting me to take a shower. Momma’s are never good at throwing n catching, but sometimes they are sharp enough. Fast forwarding 15 minutes into the scene, the packing expert my Father had married was professional enough to deliver the consignment just before the pickup rickshaw arrived.

Ahhhh!!!! Such awesome were those days. Tensions… Worries… Responsibilities… Way back then, they were just a few words taught in literatures and found in dictionaries. We just left home without any tension, without any responsibility, without having to think… What’s next??? Wondering which were those days… those were my “School Days”!!!

A few classes from those caring teachers whom I never listened to… The maths class where I never counted except periods remaining… And the tiffin-break after a long wait... Those were all that happened. Tiffin-breaks were only meant for throwing away the tiffin thereby saving our own back from the tiffin-thrash after reaching home and playing around. A few more periods… and then I was back home. The same soft hands that packed me up in the morning were now ready to take me in her laps and fondle me a lot. With the bright white morning shirt dirt-stamped by afternoon, twisting my ears were a must. Truly, I miss it very much today knowing that even tears cannot bring back those good ol’ days.

Then there was my spoon-feeder running behind me, as I was running behind my small puppy. Awww!!! I was just lifted up like a small pillow and virtually tied onto bed for a sweet afternoon nap. The evening passed bitterly with a few math sums or grammar to work on and the worst statement one could listen, “If you don’t finish it within 9, I won’t let you watch Alif-Laila”. It was duty time for the spoon-feeder before I was again deep asleep in her arms dreaming myself as Sindbad or Shaktimaan.

With a few years passing away, it was mid school. A few things had changed. The rickshaw turned into a bus. The no of friends were more. The liberty allotted had increased. And the feeling of wings came creeping in. Gel Pens became objects of fantasy and football came in as addictive drugs. Later on, for the very first time in my life, a subject came up which I started to enjoy. Moral Science!!! Indeed, there was some moral education to be gained right from the 7thgrade. Perhaps, that was the time for little minds to multiply their curiosity.

The 9th grade was a strange grade because of a gradation that occurred. Girls!!! I never looked at them, leave alone staring. I remember an incident. Once upon a time, a nice girl landed at our all-boys tuition class. The first thing I did unwillingly was look at her and swivel my neck around to give a feeling that I was attentive to something else. Things were not normal at all. For the first time, I tried to hide whatever I was doing. But, soon enough I understood that things were quite same with the rest of my peer group. Luckily, she sat in front of me. Having taken out her copy, she tried to open her pen cap with her thumb and it flung upwards to land on my specs. “Oops!!! Sorry…”, the soft melodious voice arose a strange ambience around me. I could not speak, even after I wanted to say something. I raised my specs and looked straight into my notebook giving a feeling around as if I had been the most studious boy on earth for centuries. Even though, I do not even know her name, all that mattered was feeling the difference.

“Sonaa, boro hoyechis… You should know what you are doing…” But, I never gave a thought because I just went along with the current that the river of my life took me through. It was just my moma’s lap... to be grown under her care. The 10th standard made me realize for the very first time that I was going to be on my own fast forwarding a few years into my life. The rest 2 years were just the heartfelt continuation of the Colors of Life that were about to turn their back on me.

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