Babu, a strapping young man of 23 now, was in class 3 when we first went to the village. He had a stammer, and was a little slow in studies - but those minor things do not count in a village, where work, studies and play all together define a child's growing years.
Today he comes home whenever we are there, to sit and chat, or to simply sit. As do all his other classmates, Madhu, Kumar, ... They used to come and 'study' at home through the evenings of all their school years, and our home space was theirs as they saw it.
We had our mango farm, and there would be a mango harvest thro' summer. The S.Cs had no land, and so even in this land of mangoes, mangoes were not plenty for them. So we use to keep a big mud pot at home full of mangoes, and the children would go and with closed eyes rummage and pull out a mango each daily ! Babu, today at 23, remembers those 'mango hunts' with fondness...
So these very small, almost meaningless random acts of happiness we share, mean more than we may guess. Practically they mean nothing, in actuality maybe everything.
Today he comes home whenever we are there, to sit and chat, or to simply sit. As do all his other classmates, Madhu, Kumar, ... They used to come and 'study' at home through the evenings of all their school years, and our home space was theirs as they saw it.
We had our mango farm, and there would be a mango harvest thro' summer. The S.Cs had no land, and so even in this land of mangoes, mangoes were not plenty for them. So we use to keep a big mud pot at home full of mangoes, and the children would go and with closed eyes rummage and pull out a mango each daily ! Babu, today at 23, remembers those 'mango hunts' with fondness...
So these very small, almost meaningless random acts of happiness we share, mean more than we may guess. Practically they mean nothing, in actuality maybe everything.
7 March 2015 at 11:33 ·
Paalaguttapalle (Dalitwada)
The transient, ephemeral , fleeting joys in life count. When we moved to the village, first time our mango trees gave a harvest we got huge amounts of mangoes home, and we only sold some to the mandi. Our village, everyone is landless, and so despite living in mango territory, mangoes were limited. So we gave plenty to friends, and then kept plenty at home also for the children.
Evening when the children came home to study, they would as a ritual, close their eyes, and rummage in a big pot an choose a mango, eat and then sit to study. This was through the two summer months.
Babu is now 30, those days he was a 10 year old old. He still tells me shyly when he comes home some evenings, 'Madam. how we used to search for mangoes in that pot when I was in class 4' ... Life has knocks in store for each of us, and small happy innocent memories maybe more important that we would think.
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