Our memories are what makes us who we are,
especially our childhood memories. Some we remember vividly and some vaguely.
This is an episode from the past that never fails to bring a smile to my face.
This happened during the summer vacation when I had
gone with my parents to visit my dad’s ancestral house in Kochanur. I was
3, I guess. Chinnu was 4, Sheebu was 5 or 6. Shyjatha was probably 7 or 8.
(The exact chronological age of my partners in crime is the part that
I remember vaguely)
Kochanur is the village where my dad grew up.
It had its own charm. It was green everywhere; the people were friendly and
were always excited to see me as I came from ‘Persia’. I tried telling them
that I actually came from Abu Dhabi but for them Abu Dhabi and Persia were all
the same.
Apparently, the house we stayed in at that time was
a renovated one. During my dad’s schooldays they lived in a older house. When
my dad and his elder brothers went to the ‘Gelf’ and made some money, they
decided that the old house was worn-out and they had to renovate it. So, they
redid the place and along with the changes they made, my uncle decided to place
a fountain in front of the house.
Since my dad’s elder brother was the oldest, most
authoritarian and slightly unconventional in his taste for art, he decided that
this fountain ought to be different from any other fountains. Hence, our unique
fountain was indeed a masterpiece. Chiselled in white marble was an innocent
young boy around 1 or 2 years of age holding his tiny pee-organ and peeing into
a small pond of water. The fellow’s pee was the moving water of the fountain.
Thinking back now, this was perhaps the most
inappropriate object anyone would ever place right in front of their house.
Since my grand mom didn't share my uncle’s eccentricity and
since she was the one paying the electricity bill, the stone boy would pee only
when my uncle was in town. The rest of the year this naked fellow just stood
there on the walls of the small pond showing the neighbourhood his bare
butt and holding his pee-organ.
Coming back to the afternoon when I was 3. My
parents had gone to bed for their post-lunch afternoon nap. My aunt had also
gone to bed. My grand mom was in the kitchen clearing the dishes and
giving instructions to the servants. My cousins and I were playing in the veranda
drawing random objects on pieces of paper.
Now I clearly remember my mom telling me not to go
out and play. I also remember my grand mom locking the grilled door
of the veranda. An older cousin suggested we should go out. I asked them how we
can get out when the door was latched. One of them climbed up the grills put
her little hand out and unlocked it. Viola... the portal opened. Full of
excitement and awe at the superpowers of my older cousins I got out. We sat on
the wall of this fountain and continued our drawing on the paper game.
Suddenly the pen fell into the water. I remember
someone telling “Let’s see who will pick it up...” All of us stretched our
little hands into the water. I don’t know what the others’ stories were,
but I remember mine with such great clarity. I kept stretching my hand, but the
pen continued to float away. I stretched a little more and just a little more
and yes! I had caught the pen. But suddenly my feet slipped and I fell into the
water.
It was green all around (mainly due to the monsoons
and algae built up).. I can't recollect whether I was floating or
drowning. I don’t remember choking or struggling for breath. But I remember
being surrounded by nothing but limitless green. Then gradually the green
turned black.
My grand mom was in the kitchen when she
saw my cousins running away from the scene in panic. Sensing something was
wrong she asked them what happened. They yelled out to her, “Nihal died” and
ran away…
My grand mom reacted. She started
shouting and weeping waking everyone up. She rushed to fountain grabbed my two
tiny hands that were the only thing above water and pulled me out.
Again, I have no idea what exactly happened after
pulling me out of water. When I woke up, there were so many people around me.
Most of them were crying. They didn't tell me anything, rather they
just stared at me and I stared back. Before I could speak a word 'thud' came
a whack. It was my mom crying and screaming at me “Didn't I tell you
not to go out???...”
23 years have passed since this incident.
My grand mom moved out of this house and went to stay with my aunt.
Some local thief stole the pee-boy. The property was partitioned and sold. The
house was broken down. Two of my cousins have built houses
on that plot. My naughty older cousins now have kids of their age
back then. My grand mom expired 3 years ago.
Even today when I tell my mom that I am going to a
pool that is hardly 5 feet deep under the watchful eye of two trained
lifeguards, my mom tells me ‘Take care ok… I still remember you falling in that
fountain…”
