My friend was complaining to me that her 2 years old tiny tot does not want to play with a ball in the park but just wants to roll on the grass. I was wondering…. Is this the same girl who herself used to enjoy rolling on the grass to the fullest? Her complaint started to unwind a reel in my mind….
By God’s grace, I grew up in a scenic town of Konkan region of Maharashtra. The area where we used to live was surrounded by small hills and farms. At the end of monsoon season, these hills used to don the robe of soft grass and little white flowers. Rolling on this grass was our favorite game. I still remember the fresh, earthy, somewhat metallic smell of that grass. And how can I forget the fragrance of mother earth when the first drops of rain kiss her? No perfumery in the world can give you that fragrance. Today we easily spend a few hundred bucks on artificial fragrances. But does any of it can bring the freshness of a lemon zest? Can any of it bring the purity of flowers, sandal wood or basil leaves?
June – September are generally the rainy months in Konkan and also the months of some important festivals like Ganesh Chaturthi. The responsibility of arranging flowers, garlands, the holy leaves etc. used to be on the kids. We used to collect this stuff from our own garden as well as from friends’ and neighbor’s gardens. We never realized back then that these are our very first lessons of botany. But different trees, their distinct features were fascinating even then. The garden owners were always ready to enlighten us with some useful information about the trees; like their medicinal uses.
Rain has a special place in my childhood memories. Konkan’s rain is unsophisticated rather shameless. It pours spontaneously like a passionate lover. I remember seeing it approaching vehemently from a distant hill and soon it used to attenuate the surroundings in its tight hug. Walking the roads in such torrential rain is an experience in itself. No less than an adventure!! I have experienced this adventure many a times. Farmers working in their farms in such wild rain are the real heroes. Lal Bahadur Shastriji has rightly said “Jai Jawan.. Jai Kissan”.
Rainy season sometimes used to bring some unwanted guests to the house like frogs, earthworms or crabs. Expelling them from the house used to be a real fun-filled activity for us. But we never killed any of these creatures. We had our own unique ways to deal with them. For an instance, hold a stick near a frog or a crab. When they climb on it; just run quickly towards the nearest window and throw the stick away before the poor frog or crab realize what’s happening to it. But you need to be real quick for this.
Hot humid summers used to be equally exciting as the torrential rain. Those summer evenings have given me some memories to cherish. We had this big veranda which used to get transformed into a den after sunset. Sometimes the high humidity in atmosphere used to make sleeping inside a nightmare even after putting on the fan. But that was a blessing in disguise. A time to sleep in veranda with a sky full of stars above, the cool western breeze and the fragrance of Rajanigandha. Today it sounds like a fairytale. It was one summer afternoon when I experienced the only hailstorm of my life. White, pebble sized hails were showering furiously. It lasted only for a few minutes but gave me memories of a lifetime.
Winters had their own magic. Winter memories of my childhood revolve around fog. Thick… dense fog. I was in morning shift of school. So I had to leave house early in the morning. It was a good 20-25 minutes’ walk. On our way to school, trees and houses used to play hide and seek from the dense fog. It was magical. We used to feel like we are all set for a magic journey and some cute fairy will now emerge from the fog.
Times have changed now. People and places have changed with time so as the nature. It moved from yard to balcony, from fruit plantations to a bottle of jam. But nature still meets me. It greets me as a blooming rose in my balcony. Surprises me as a sudden shower. Frightens me as a thundering bolt in a dark sky. Make me smile as a rainbow and soothes my tired feet as a stream of cool water on a burning afternoon trek……
By God’s grace, I grew up in a scenic town of Konkan region of Maharashtra. The area where we used to live was surrounded by small hills and farms. At the end of monsoon season, these hills used to don the robe of soft grass and little white flowers. Rolling on this grass was our favorite game. I still remember the fresh, earthy, somewhat metallic smell of that grass. And how can I forget the fragrance of mother earth when the first drops of rain kiss her? No perfumery in the world can give you that fragrance. Today we easily spend a few hundred bucks on artificial fragrances. But does any of it can bring the freshness of a lemon zest? Can any of it bring the purity of flowers, sandal wood or basil leaves?
June – September are generally the rainy months in Konkan and also the months of some important festivals like Ganesh Chaturthi. The responsibility of arranging flowers, garlands, the holy leaves etc. used to be on the kids. We used to collect this stuff from our own garden as well as from friends’ and neighbor’s gardens. We never realized back then that these are our very first lessons of botany. But different trees, their distinct features were fascinating even then. The garden owners were always ready to enlighten us with some useful information about the trees; like their medicinal uses.
Rain has a special place in my childhood memories. Konkan’s rain is unsophisticated rather shameless. It pours spontaneously like a passionate lover. I remember seeing it approaching vehemently from a distant hill and soon it used to attenuate the surroundings in its tight hug. Walking the roads in such torrential rain is an experience in itself. No less than an adventure!! I have experienced this adventure many a times. Farmers working in their farms in such wild rain are the real heroes. Lal Bahadur Shastriji has rightly said “Jai Jawan.. Jai Kissan”.
Hot humid summers used to be equally exciting as the torrential rain. Those summer evenings have given me some memories to cherish. We had this big veranda which used to get transformed into a den after sunset. Sometimes the high humidity in atmosphere used to make sleeping inside a nightmare even after putting on the fan. But that was a blessing in disguise. A time to sleep in veranda with a sky full of stars above, the cool western breeze and the fragrance of Rajanigandha. Today it sounds like a fairytale. It was one summer afternoon when I experienced the only hailstorm of my life. White, pebble sized hails were showering furiously. It lasted only for a few minutes but gave me memories of a lifetime.
Winters had their own magic. Winter memories of my childhood revolve around fog. Thick… dense fog. I was in morning shift of school. So I had to leave house early in the morning. It was a good 20-25 minutes’ walk. On our way to school, trees and houses used to play hide and seek from the dense fog. It was magical. We used to feel like we are all set for a magic journey and some cute fairy will now emerge from the fog.
Times have changed now. People and places have changed with time so as the nature. It moved from yard to balcony, from fruit plantations to a bottle of jam. But nature still meets me. It greets me as a blooming rose in my balcony. Surprises me as a sudden shower. Frightens me as a thundering bolt in a dark sky. Make me smile as a rainbow and soothes my tired feet as a stream of cool water on a burning afternoon trek……