Damian Williams

Evening walks are rare these days, and when I do get to go out, I cherish the moment to take in as much of the world that I miss. The only world that I get to see now is a busy road with busy traffic and noises—terrible noises that I am much more accustomed to now.

On one of my rare walks this evening, I happened to follow a seldom visited path that took me to an unknown park. It was a rather small park, more of a field, with a broken and bent three legged bench, one end supported by a couple of bricks. The bench was positioned under the only tree in the entire field.

I sat on the bench for a couple of minutes, fidgeting about my phone as I replied to texts and emails from friends and colleagues, when a group of young, dirty legged boys walked on. One of the younger looking kids carried a cricket bat, and he walked in with pride. The bigger boys had their arms around his shoulders, almost as though he were guarded and well protected.

I chuckled! He was the only boy in his friend circle who owned a cricket bat, and he was given that respect.

The lad reminded me of my younger days, when I was a schoolboy living in Madavaram, Chennai, in the days when the sun’s heat was never an excuse to sit home and play on the mobile phone. I was once the skinniest and shortest kid in the entire brood, and I walked around with pride while swinging the hand-made cricket bat. which was made from the stem of a coconut tree). A single stick made up for a wicket, and the non-striker relied on a long stick of his choice to save himself from a runout.

I was a terrible player, but I was called to play. I had the honor of not being left out, not because I possessed a bat but because I had friends.

Afternoons were usually ‘an escape from nap time’, where I would find the most secluded branch on the family mango tree, and park myself up there till my mother looked up and yelled till her lungs exploded. A warning about complaining to Dad was enough to get me down, after which I would get my ears wrung and dragged to bed, aided by a belt. Of course, I would only pretend to sleep, until I actually fell asleep and didn’t want to be woken up.

On school days, I was forced to be woken up, with the excuse of a headache curing immediately once my father walked in. The rest of my morning sleep was usually completed while I sat on the bathroom pot, and was broken when I heard threats of ‘breaking down the door’.

School was equally fun when my school friends and I stood together, holding ears outside the classroom.

Harassing Leo Dadda often took the cake. He would drive us home in his old Maruti Omni, or in his “Bobby car.” Poor Leo dadda! It was always a pain to round us up and get us seated before we ran out to play again.

Home again, and mother would push us out to play. The only video game I ever knew about was the little disc thing, which promised 9999+ games. Unfortunately, despite the promised number of games, I only knew how to play Mario and Duck Shooter. I’ve never been a better shot, but I did not let that dog laugh at me.

My sister, Shareen, and I were the best of friends. Unfortunately, she always complained about me to mom and dad, but of course she too would be punished along with me. There were times when she and I were kicked out of the house, where we’d wail and cry for a bit and then end up playing in the sand. Gifting was always a problem. No matter who celebrated a birthday, we were both given gifts because we fought like cats and dogs!

And the chores! We had to share the chores equally. If I worked in the garden, my sister swept the floor. We always knew when we had to work, and it was usually when one of us was getting scolded. In times like these, we knew we would be next, and it was the best time to hit the books.

We were allowed two hours each night to watch television before bed. There was always an argument to decide between Drake and Josh, and the Powerpuff girls, and eventually we’d end up watching what mom put. It was usually the cartoon, and we had our fill of Courage the Cowardly Dog show, Dexter, Teen Titans, and my all time favourite Ed, Edd, and Eddy. Shareen was usually the Teletubbies and Pingu kind, but I did enjoy the Fimbles and Franny’s Feet.

After our night show, mom would seat us and teach us to sing our daily hymns. There were so many, and we learnt a new hymn every week. It was my duty to light the candle on the altar, and I did it with pride (because I got to show off that I was taller than my sister). We then knelt down and said the rosary, before retiring to bed.

I watched on as one of the boys pulled out a mobile phone, and they all huddled together to click a selfie. Not much has changed since then, the world has just moved on with the times, but somewhere I felt that these children were missing out on a different experience of childhood.