My childhood days contain such sweet and amazing memories. I enjoyed being alone and I generally kept to myself. I played in my backyard while everyone slept.
For the past couple of days I have been spiraling into these memories... the ones in my backyard. It was a concrete backyard with a lot of shade. Half constructed walls were my bowlers and fielders when I played cricket. I remember it being so big. I used to play football, cricket, tennis (or so I thought then), badminton, tennicoit and other games that I created by myself. I used to run around like a mad fellow there. I loved that backyard. The dimensions of my backyard was something like 8' x 15' with a wall in the middle separating it into two 7'x8' areas. But back then it seemed big enough for a full fledged game of cricket.
The fondest memories I had are with old books that were to be sold for recycling by weight (kept in the backyard to save space inside), sticks from the broom, a bottle of fevicol and my father's surplus school supplies like pins and tags that somehow found their way to the backyard as well. I used to make miniature cricket bats... It used to vary from 3-10 cm in length. Something that I envisioned as a bat for a metal ball bearing (which I used to find near cycle shops and on footpaths). I'd collected ball bearings of various sizes. (Im not sure if ball-bearing is the right word. Calling it a metal ball somehow sounds wrong) I remember one cricket set of a broomstick+paper+cardboard bat, a ball (bearing), a tiny wicket (about 2 cm in height) fit snug in a stapler pin box. A slightly bigger version fit in a HomeLites matchbox. I used to have so much fun making these. I even played with the miniature cricket sets. I had once created a field with a circular piece of cardboard about 15 cm in diameter with adjustable fielders who actually managed to catch the ball, a ramp on which you can roll the ball which served as the bowler and a tiny piece of cardboard stuck upright that served as the wicket. I made these things and I played with them and I had the best time of my life. Nobody ever knew about these things. Except my parents of course who were pleased to see the cricket sets.
I want to search for these cricket sets on my next visit to Mysore. Somewhere in the process of growing up and growing out of my shorts I seem to have lost the cricket sets. I have searched for this several times before. Ill search again. I know I won't find it, but I'll search anyway. Along with these I remember a cycle made of broom sticks and cardboard (the wheels were made of cardboard), some chalk carvings, some carvings on the broom sticks. (The thick bamboo sticks... they were some 3-6 mm thick)
I stayed put at that place for 22 years and developed such fond memories. Im going there this weekend to get the furniture there to my new apartment in Bangalore. I somehow feel uncomfortable doing that. I feel I shouldn't move anything from that place. Its like taking away an organ from this creature that has raised you since you were a kid. But memories should remain memories right? If you try to hold onto it and build upon it, you are just painting over an existing image.
I love my childhood days in Mysore. My city, my home. I've been in several cities. Bangalore is good. But nothing compares to Mysore. It is just so special that nothing can be compared to it.
For the past couple of days I have been spiraling into these memories... the ones in my backyard. It was a concrete backyard with a lot of shade. Half constructed walls were my bowlers and fielders when I played cricket. I remember it being so big. I used to play football, cricket, tennis (or so I thought then), badminton, tennicoit and other games that I created by myself. I used to run around like a mad fellow there. I loved that backyard. The dimensions of my backyard was something like 8' x 15' with a wall in the middle separating it into two 7'x8' areas. But back then it seemed big enough for a full fledged game of cricket.
The fondest memories I had are with old books that were to be sold for recycling by weight (kept in the backyard to save space inside), sticks from the broom, a bottle of fevicol and my father's surplus school supplies like pins and tags that somehow found their way to the backyard as well. I used to make miniature cricket bats... It used to vary from 3-10 cm in length. Something that I envisioned as a bat for a metal ball bearing (which I used to find near cycle shops and on footpaths). I'd collected ball bearings of various sizes. (Im not sure if ball-bearing is the right word. Calling it a metal ball somehow sounds wrong) I remember one cricket set of a broomstick+paper+cardboard bat, a ball (bearing), a tiny wicket (about 2 cm in height) fit snug in a stapler pin box. A slightly bigger version fit in a HomeLites matchbox. I used to have so much fun making these. I even played with the miniature cricket sets. I had once created a field with a circular piece of cardboard about 15 cm in diameter with adjustable fielders who actually managed to catch the ball, a ramp on which you can roll the ball which served as the bowler and a tiny piece of cardboard stuck upright that served as the wicket. I made these things and I played with them and I had the best time of my life. Nobody ever knew about these things. Except my parents of course who were pleased to see the cricket sets.
I want to search for these cricket sets on my next visit to Mysore. Somewhere in the process of growing up and growing out of my shorts I seem to have lost the cricket sets. I have searched for this several times before. Ill search again. I know I won't find it, but I'll search anyway. Along with these I remember a cycle made of broom sticks and cardboard (the wheels were made of cardboard), some chalk carvings, some carvings on the broom sticks. (The thick bamboo sticks... they were some 3-6 mm thick)
I stayed put at that place for 22 years and developed such fond memories. Im going there this weekend to get the furniture there to my new apartment in Bangalore. I somehow feel uncomfortable doing that. I feel I shouldn't move anything from that place. Its like taking away an organ from this creature that has raised you since you were a kid. But memories should remain memories right? If you try to hold onto it and build upon it, you are just painting over an existing image.
I love my childhood days in Mysore. My city, my home. I've been in several cities. Bangalore is good. But nothing compares to Mysore. It is just so special that nothing can be compared to it.