When I look at it's withered bark today, the Tamarind tree, in our yard, seems so forlorn. It must be at least a century old. Once it was the centre of all our summer holidays. All of us cousins have spent days on end under it's salubrious shade.
In villages a game is played by children, where tree climbing skills are tested to the utmost. It is called "Soor-Parambhya" (सूर पारम्भ्या) This game we have played hundreds of times on this tree. A circle about a meter in diameter is drawn under the tree & a stick is placed in it. The game is played by a group of players against a lone adversary. One of the players throws the stick as far as he can, and before the lone adversary fetches the stick he has to climb the tree, all his teammates would already be perched on the tree branches. The adversary has to fetch the stick and place it in the circle, and before any of the players perched on the tree descends and throws the stick again, he has to catch at least one of the players by climbing the tree, at the same time, seeing to it that the stick remains in the circle. It's tough, as as he climbs the tree, some one else will come down from the other side and throw the stick away from the circle, and he has to again go and fetch the stick. The person caught becomes the adversary.
Under this Tamarind tree we have dug wells, built ponds, and houses, exploded gunpowder, baked bricks, played darts (A circle drawn on the tree trunk as target, visages of the same are still visible even today). On this tree we have built tree houses, tied swings and climbed ropes (ropes had knots to make climbing easy). To the trunk we have even tied our enemies (they would generally be one of the servant boys or girls who would spy and tell our elders of our activities).
When the flowering season for tamrinds came, we would make a delicious 'Chatni' (चटनी ) of these flowers. When the tamrinds were green, we would eat them with chilly powder and salt. Just before they ripened, we would relish them as 'gabholis' (गाभोली) and when the fruit ripened, we would make a ball and lick it to our heart's content. The seeds were 'currency', for many of our other games.
For us the tree was not a silent spectator, but one of us. We believed it loved our company!
Today no one plays there. The Tamarind tree must be missing us and our pranks.
Today no one plays there. The Tamarind tree must be missing us and our pranks.
When I pass by it every day, I get the eerie feeling that it is watching me, and wondering " where has the child in him gone?", I too wonder, " where has the child in me gone?"
