A good part of my recollections of childhood centres around a place- our family pond, and two persons- my cousins Chenta (Anita) and Bebe (late Ibemal), and the various escapades I had with them, not necessarily in the pond.
When I look over my shoulders to the past and try to pick up the beautiful moments bygone, the family ‘pukhri’ at Kwakeithel is the biggest image that always springs up to my mind. With its expanse of clear green waters and the variety of nature that thrived on and in it, the pond stands for a vivid part of my life- the freedom, the purity, the unsullied beauty of a hassle free childhood. Happy were the afternoons when we’d sneak out of the house, while the elders snoozed, to take a dip in its cool depths. Crazy were the moments when unable to keep calm, we’d break out into wanton squeals of pleasure and start splashing around. The noise would obviously wake the resting guardians who would chase us left and right and back to the sheltered interiors of the house much to our disappointment. Unforgettable also were the varied punishments we received for defying their orders.
Chenta, Bebe and I had exciting moments swimming the entire breadth of the ‘pukhri’ to the temple orchard (Lai Ingkhol) beyond, which was out of bounds for us. The fruit laden trees would beckon us and we would cross all obstacles to get to them and fill ourselves to our hearts’ content and come back dripping with the aroma of those ripe guavas and sweet yellow mangoes. What fun we had sneaking in to pluck-honey suckles, jasmines and hibiscus flowers to adorn the bridal bowers of our dolls.
Literally having a whole horde of cousins to share those fun-laden days added a lot more to the simple joys. The pond, our ‘pukhri’, where we learnt to steam out lives, to break out our energies, to swim and steer, to angle for fish and to net. The pond, which today, stands as the most apt symbol of the micro world of our childhood, so fulfilling.
Together with the pond, my cousins Chenta and Bebe form indelible parts of my memories of childhood. We three formed a gang, a ridiculous replica of the three musketeers, always armed in our own ways making many an elder smile and also pull their hair with our antics and hilarity.
I remember the incident when I was the spoilsport and threatened to expose and report the two of them for having accepted toffees from a local ‘stranger’. The fear of the repercussions that may come about made my naïve cousins decide on the best possible escape they could think of, which was to run a parallel home independently on their own on the attic of Bebe’s house where they cleverly shifted and arranged a floor-mat with their respective sleeping materials. And the food they hoarded for their ‘new home’ consisted of a few balls of jaggeried puffed rice and some betel leaves and areca nuts, bought with money taken from Chenta’s good-hearted grand mother (Thockchom abok) who lived close by. I remember how heartbroken I was on not being allowed to be a part of their exciting venture. Oh! how I envied them.
Impossible to forget is also the occasion when Bebe and I had the charity to share a meat delicacy we were relishing in her house with the statuette of ‘Shiva ji’ which happened to be there in the same room. We went on to smear it liberally with the gravy with such gusto, happy in our generosity only to be given a good spanking by Bebe’s mother (Machoubi) on her discovery, later, of our ‘mischief’. We were bewildered and failed to understand elders and their teachings on the values of sharing and eating together.
The colourful ‘holis’ we enjoyed sneaking out of the compound from the ‘man-made’ hole in the hedge at the back of the house; the secret trips we made to the Mahabali temple on ‘Krishna Janm’ much to the chagrin of our hard core meitei grandfathers (Aubok and Paajee); the absolute chaos we created at the tailor’s called ’69 Park’ on the day the three of us went to get trousers made for ourselves from our respective fathers’ old pair of pants- all stand proof of the mad days we had together providing juicy nostalgia and good story telling to our younger cousins and also to our children and nieces and nephews today.
We grew out of those fun-filled years. The pond now stands in what remains of it as two dirty shallow pits of muddy water. I hardly get to meet Chenta as often as I would like to. Bebe left us for her heavenly abode in her hurried manner as if impatient to subject the very Gods to her crazy entertaining. But I carry those memories with me wherever I go. And I shall continue to cherish endlessly those precious days, those priceless moments, spent in and out of the waters of our ‘pukhri’ sprinkled with magenta lilies, and the years of happiness shared with Chenta and Bebe.
