Summer holidays at Mhaisal - simply unforgettable
Six of us siblings and cousins born between 1956 and 1960, every year at Mhaisal during summers
Days spent outdoors, swimming in wells (infested with snakes, crabs turtles and fish), playing a tree climbing game called 'Sur-Parambhya' (सूर -पारम्भ्या ) , darting- with tree trunks as targets, hunting with sling-shots- garden lizards being the unfortunate victims, building play castles,
Some times even indulging in dangerous stuff like using dynamite powder to dig-up a pond!.
The evenings with card games-
Particularly a game called Ladice ( A trump game similar to Contract-Bridge, but without elaborate bidding). Ajji, our grandmother partnering with us. The game very boisterous, with shouting and hooting, and stretching for hours.
The stories told by Ajji of kings and queens (the king always had two queens, one he liked and the other he disliked), Aesop's and Panchatantra tales, of Chatrapati Shivaji, and off course stories from the Ramayan and Mahabharat. And the stories told by Gidya-Babu (Gidya, a sobriquet, he being a dwarf) of ghosts and magic and talking parrots.
Once in three or four days a movie, on a makeshift screen, in a 'Open to Sky', 'Touring Talkies'. The 'folding chairs' for us carried by our staff to the theater, as it did not boast of any chairs at all,
Then the nights, sleeping on the terrace, watching the stars that seemed to rotate in unison around us from east to west, with sometimes a shooting star, making us fervently wish for something our little hearts desired. The sun would be up, with us still in bed, and Daniel (our uncle Dr.Jaysingrao's assistant), with his clinic tray of bandages and gauze and iodine and nebasulf powder, coming to dress our wounds, results of the previous day's rowdiness.
Of delicacies galore - Layered mutton pulloas,
The final exam results arriving by post in envelopes submitted by us to the school, bearing addresses neatly written by my mother. Heart beats missed till they were opened and the soothing line read, "Promoted to Std. ***"
Then the last day - our Akka silently crying the whole day - and Mothe-Kaka (our Uncle) giving her his used handkerchief as solace. The return journey car being kept waiting at the last moment for the new uniforms to be delivered by the village tailor- Makbool.
And at last an end to the lovely holidays - to begin a new academic year - of hopes and frustrations till once more the holidays.
Six of us siblings and cousins born between 1956 and 1960, every year at Mhaisal during summers
Days spent outdoors, swimming in wells (infested with snakes, crabs turtles and fish), playing a tree climbing game called 'Sur-Parambhya' (सूर -पारम्भ्या ) , darting- with tree trunks as targets, hunting with sling-shots- garden lizards being the unfortunate victims, building play castles,
Some times even indulging in dangerous stuff like using dynamite powder to dig-up a pond!.
The evenings with card games-
The stories told by Ajji of kings and queens (the king always had two queens, one he liked and the other he disliked), Aesop's and Panchatantra tales, of Chatrapati Shivaji, and off course stories from the Ramayan and Mahabharat. And the stories told by Gidya-Babu (Gidya, a sobriquet, he being a dwarf) of ghosts and magic and talking parrots.
Once in three or four days a movie, on a makeshift screen, in a 'Open to Sky', 'Touring Talkies'. The 'folding chairs' for us carried by our staff to the theater, as it did not boast of any chairs at all,
Then the nights, sleeping on the terrace, watching the stars that seemed to rotate in unison around us from east to west, with sometimes a shooting star, making us fervently wish for something our little hearts desired. The sun would be up, with us still in bed, and Daniel (our uncle Dr.Jaysingrao's assistant), with his clinic tray of bandages and gauze and iodine and nebasulf powder, coming to dress our wounds, results of the previous day's rowdiness.
Of delicacies galore - Layered mutton pulloas,
Bhanga-Rassa (A thin mutton curry- decidedly not for the weaker palates), Wada-Kombda (A Konkani dish of chiken and fried 'wadas'), Puran-Poli, Gul-Poli (Chapatis with a layer of Jaggery) and Rus-Poli (chappatis soaked in sweetened coconut milk), and many many more. Pampered by Granny - of sugarcane, mango, pomegranate even an apple or orange being served neatly pealed and cut in pieces just ready to be put in the mouth.
The final exam results arriving by post in envelopes submitted by us to the school, bearing addresses neatly written by my mother. Heart beats missed till they were opened and the soothing line read, "Promoted to Std. ***"
Then the last day - our Akka silently crying the whole day - and Mothe-Kaka (our Uncle) giving her his used handkerchief as solace. The return journey car being kept waiting at the last moment for the new uniforms to be delivered by the village tailor- Makbool.
And at last an end to the lovely holidays - to begin a new academic year - of hopes and frustrations till once more the holidays.
