GROWING UP.....

Reflecting on the backdrop of incidences; 2013 was a year encompassed with nerve-wracking experiences which will leave an everlasting impression on my life. I was tossed under strong whirlpool of nightmares, which had slowly started to engulf the life within me. In short my life was in crisis; I was famished for happiness. My soul was aching to rediscover the vibrant, fun loving and confident person; I once used to be.  No matter how hard I tried, the emotional agony, I was inflicted with refused to leave me. That was when I found writing to be of some relief; I could easily vent my emotions without needing anyone to lend their ears to my emotional state of mind.

Sometimes when the grieving incidence of the present haunts me, I just close my eyes and go back to my childhood days spent in small village of Assam. Life wasn’t either easy there. Being a forest land; bordering Assam and Bhutan, my village was notorious for cradling terrorist, smugglers and some village goons. With no access to proper infrastructure, our village didn’t have water supplies and we had to live on the mercy of our neighbouring country for it. During the times of turmoil, I have seen my family toil hard even to get drinking water. In our village male members of the house had to travel miles to fetch drinking water from the river. While, the females of the household had to walk to the nearest drain like canal to wash cloths and if the water was scarce then they had to even take bath in the filthy water. The canal water would be filled with dirt’s and carcass of dead animals. There was a temple facing the canal and on the way to canal there were butcher shops, where everyday hundreds of slaughters took place. Not to talk about the slaughter of human life. But, the goddess of the temple stood silent in her porch so much like the people of the village. Deaths and murders had become so trivial issues that even children of our village were no longer terrorised by the sound of gun fire. Children of our village had matured more than their age and I know I was one of them.

We had one government school, where the teachers refused to show their face. The walls of the government school were like a crumpling monument, which housed climbers, lizards, insects, dogs and their fossils but not students. Thanks, to a kind educated lady who had started a primary school in my village which was a ray of hope to young children of the village, like me. I remember days when my brother and I were made to sit in veranda to study till the last speck of light of dusk as our village didn’t have electricity. My mother being an educated lady valued the importance of education. No matter the external conflicts going around in my village. I and my brother were made to sit on the bed with a lamp placed on cardboard beside us; we had to stoop to see the books and to get the alphabets correct on the faint dim light of lamp. Another terror apart from the terrorist which struck my village every year was Malaria. Every year malaria; would claim uncountable lives with vicious indifference and apathy. Every summer dispensaries would be packed with sick children, women and men regardless of their status. Summer would bring in the news of malaria sometimes devouring an entire family and leaving uncountable children orphaned. I myself have escaped death many times. My nine years of childhood days were spent battling malaria; due to my Midas fate and never give up attitude, I somehow managed to defeat malaria, but now I have realized that it has come to challenge my immunity to a great extent.

In spite of being in a place full of tensions and turmoil, my childhood days were something to cherish. There was certain calmness which has indeed become very hard for me to find now. I still remember running around my grandpa’s orchids wildly. What a carefree life it was. Sliding on hays meant for cows to discovering hidden treasures inside the tyres kept in the dirty store-room. I remember plotting a scene where my elder brother would act like a pirate, he had even painted his tooth black with marker and another fellow had used a broken glass found discarded on store-room, to give a wicked pirate feel. We had made boats out of tyres' and every time those wicked pirate would threaten us by moving the tyre, me and my friends would shudder with fear. On monsoons we would be ready with our paper boats to sail it in the puddle outside our veranda. But sadly now, I cannot even sail through a small puddle of my life’s trials and tribulations. As I open my eyes I realise life had so much struggles in the past as well. But I had not failed to appreciate its tiny delights at such a tender age. Coming back to my present state now I can truly understand my present situation and it brings a smile on my face because now I know that I am GROWING UP….. 

PS: MY deeply embedded thought....

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