Growing Up....

A year had passed since I graduated and joined mainstream commercial civilization. I'm part of the working class now, I remember saying to myself listening to "Working Man" by the band Something Relevant. The thought of knowing that I had a job waiting for me even before my results were out, made me feel somewhat special, fortunate, a notch above most. Thank God for campus placements.

A career is everything, I was made to understand not just by my hardworking parents, but by the whole suburban middle class society I grew up in. Bombay (i refuse to call it Mumbai), Maximum City or so they say. Oh how I love her. The staggering pace, the people, the smells, those sardine can like trains, the night life, the friendships. But living in Borivli, an obscure, quaint stop on the northern flanks of Bombay isn't exactly all glitz, glamour, money, lights, billboards etc. So much so that most traditionalists and so called native MUMBAIKARS dont even consider it as part of the main city. If i had a rupee for every time i heard of Borivli being called a village, I'd be pretty well to do. But it all fell into place as I grew up and saw more of my city. Where else could one see sprawling trees of many a kind. From coconut, papaya, tamarind, drumsticks, jackfruit, mulberry, sitaphal, ramphal and of course to the quintessential mango. Where else could one claim to live in one of the city's cleanest environments, constantly being cleaned and replenished by the Lungs Of the City, Sanjay Gandhi National Park.

I remember a brilliant childhood with late mornings spent throwing stones at the fruit laden trees.The catch was priceless. Fresh ripe (pukka) and unripe (kuccha) mangoes of different varieties, sour tamarind and cashews galore. The rest of the time was spent on playing various games with the rest of the children hopscotch, chor-police, freeze and melt, lock and key, dodgeball. We also went hunting not in the literal sense but hunting for various types of wild life like snakes, birds, insects, just to catch a glimpse of them.We would climb trees almost everyday and play imaginary games like Tarzan Training Camp and GI Joe. I cant help but giggle as I write this. Genuine unadulterated happiness tucked away in out little secret space. I guess my love for free hand climbing began then. Climbing trees is an activity that I still indulge in and treasure to this very day. Just the feeling of being in those leafy bows makes all the effort worthwhile.

I also remember chasing rabbits in summer and hearing wolves howl in the dead of a full moon night when I was about 5 i guess. Something that remains indelibly etched in my mind even now that I'm 23 and writing this. But I have no pictures to prove the authenticity of my claims. Although my parents do justify and back this, I will never know if the rabbits and wolves were real or a manifestations of an imaginative 5 year old who still believes in fairies and trolls and ents even now that he is all grow up. Or is he?