P laying Bryan Adams’ Summer of 69 on my six strings, I slowly slipped into memories of our summers of the 1990s. Summer holidays were the long-awaited fun-filled months. Nothing could stop us from being the naughty, dirty and notorious monkeys. Our otherwise busy parents were never worried about us catching a cold or developing some allergy playing in mud and water, or getting sunburnt wandering in the hills and playing in the open. Those were carefree days.
The variety of games we played was awesome when I look back now. We would search for matchboxes and cigarette wrappers, which came in a wide variety. Each special picture on them had its own value, based on its demand in our own ‘market’. Each player would invest in a few and these were made into two or three heaps inside a box carved on the ground. After deciding on each one’s number, we had to strike using a flat stone from quite a distance. Under our beds were our prized collections of all the matchbox covers. For sure, sometimes we got scolded for these by our mothers.
There were plenty of games to play apart from cricket, football and so on. The colourful marble game (goli aata ) was a great joy which always made that lovely gurgling sound in our pockets. A buguri (wooden carved spinning toy) had those mesmerising painted colours on it. It was a feeling to cherish, that spinning colourful buguri with its nail on the hand. When you became the last one to lift the buguri and let it spin on the hand using the thread, your buguri had to take a hit from everyone — which was a painful part of the game, looking at that beautiful toy getting mauled by everyone.
Lagori, or building the stones, was a very skilful game. It involved hitting a small pack of stones from a distance with a ball, and again building the pack before getting hit hard from the opposite group. There was kanna muchale (hide’n seek), chowka bara, kalla-police , and chinni daandu, which never required any investment from our parents’ pockets: Nature provided everything. Apart from providing endless joy, all these games helped each of us to sharpen a lot of aspects. This was a need for a growing child.
Chasing fruits
Once the game was over, it was time to wander into the hills and plantations in search of mangoes, jamun and a wide variety of fruits that grew in the bushes, beside the streams and in the forests. I don’t even knowtheir names to this day. Monkeys had no business in our surroundings as we had the sole contract. You could find one or the other in every tree that bore the fruits. It’s not that we had no attraction towards them.
The 1990s were the time when our markets opened up to globalisation. Telephone links and modern television sets started arriving and it was a lot of curiosity for us too. On occasion, TVs and video cassette players were hired and played in the open. The whole village would sit and watch a movie. Still, the fun we would get playing in the open, playing together and fighting together, was never forgotten.
The summers of the current decade seem a lot different. I have my own doubts if children of this generation do have that adrenaline rushing as the summer holidays near. After all, what should they be excited about? It’s the same TV, the same PlayStation, and the same tuitions, all over again. I feel pity for the children who are being fooled into an era of smart gadgets, spoiling all the fun. They are being subjected to their parents’ expectations in a distant future.
Children perform better when they are allowed to breathe fresh air in the open, than being suffocated inside the luxury of expensive spaces. They develop inexhaustible physical agility when allowed to play hard. Their minds absorb better when you let them train themselves in a fun-filled manner.
At least I will definitely feel sad if I don’t let my kid have that joyous, memorable childhood I was myself allowed to have, which definitely helped me expand my heart, mind and soul to the colours and imaginations of a beautiful life.
