Rains, Raincoats, Recess

4th July 2020 : From Yogi’s Corner

Rains, Raincoats & Recess

Even as I woke up lazily on this Saturday morning, a distant rhythmic music of the raindrops on the roof, told me that the overnight rain is yet to subside. The room suddenly felt cold and no extra incentive was needed to pull the blanket and snuggle back to forced slumber. I dare say "forced", simply because one could not afford these extra hours of borrowed sleep during school and office days. However, today was a COVID Saturday and only the pesky marketing folks offering me a personal loan or announcing that I have won Rs.50 lac in a lucky draw, would call. I summoned all my Zen energies and visualized the abuse my mobile phone had endured over these years and with great efficiency, I got my phone on silent mode without opening the eyes. Mission I : Accomplished & a great start to the day.

The pure, unadulterated joy of a cosy blanket completely engulfing you, cutting you off from the world even as you pretend to be fast asleep, is unmatched; just for the sheer childishness of the entire act. It provides for a perfect setting to skip ropes and unwind back in time to mull over the pleasant “what if’s” of your life and the point of inflections over a particular life decision.

Today, the emotions were on overdrive and my internal CPU was churning out a dozen memories a second. A movie started playing in reverse chronological order. The office era was quickly and summarily dismissed. Wearing full formal attire with leather shoes to match and then wading through water with rain soaked socks amongst the other inner wear, for a customer visit, did not quite seem like fun. Fast forward in reverse motion (is an oxymoron that I will liberally use henceforth)© College was good but school days were screaming out too loudly for me to look the other way and I was soon transported to the 80s.

By this time, most of the WA groups started issuing Red Alert warnings, with messages from the MET dept and satellite images. Best advise - stay at home ! I was very amused to say the least. Wasn’t BOMBAY supposed to be always like this ? City thrown out of gear, local trains running late, water logging – all of which could be predicted with high amount of accuracy. It neatly coincided with the time I had back pedalled to - the 80’s - The social media-less world with information on a very need to know basis.

School used to start almost to match with 1st spells of monsoon rains ... 13th June. Like a well-oiled machine, the whole school would start the purchasing for the new academic year on the last few days before the school re-opening. Not that it needed a lot of research on Amazon, Snapdeal or a dozen stores to get the best rates. There was only one shop for books with bundles of brown paper meant to “cover” the books. Ditto for the shop for school uniform. There was only one shop which knew the exact shade of beige that your school has asked for. Tailors used to park themselves right in front of this shop and the only monumental question was if I had gone to a higher grade to wear a full trouser or am I still going to stick to the shorts. An insulting question, to say the least ! 

For girls, the skirts had to be above the knee, while the moms used to insist on 4 inches below the knee. Invariably, the tailor always won. Over the period, he had found the sweet spot to get both the parties to agree on the length. 

Come July, waking up early morning to some real thunder and heavy rains, wishing for a school holiday & that we can snuggle in back on the bed was a constant hope. Thankfully, no social media back then for Sister Margaret to issue an alert and then declare a holiday. Like it or not, one had to reach the school to find out. Surely, would have got some extra hour of sleep but then would have missed the walk to the school and the thrill of an unscheduled holiday after getting drenched. Truth be told, every year we got no more than 1 day of holiday during the 4 months of monsoon. Yet, “this could be that day” was akin to searching for the lottery results. The excitement was in the anticipation and not necessarily the outcome. 

Stepping out on a rainy day, took additional 10 mins due to the non-stop repetition of the do’s and don’ts on the way to school. Another 10 mins were spent in convincing mom that I can manage to go by myself. Those dainty raincoats tried to hide an oversized school bag on the back, left the top button open; larger than size gum boots ( two varieties - red or black) completed the accessories. Few years later, the privileged few got the 'folding umbrella', which doubled up as swords during recess. We trudged our way through muck and puddles, promising self that we will splash around on the way back home. 

The road I took, had a hill station like canopy of trees as far as the eyes could see. In summers, it saved us from the oppressing sun but during monsoon, it looked like a green cover in its pristine glory. (Footnote : Sadly, indiscriminate & illegal cutting of trees in only the last few years, have left behind the tree stumps as a memory of what was !) On the days of unrelenting heavy rain, the walls of the classroom always found a leak and the windows would be unyielding and refusing to shut against the howling wind. As the rain swept in, the 4th column of benches near the windows, quickly merged into columns 3 & 2. How the 60 of us managed to sit and yet pretend to understand what the teacher was teaching; while the tiny rivulets from the fully drenched body, traced all parts of the back and then teasingly found a way to get into the trousers, is a question that I can’t answer till date. I think this was their way of preparing us to settle on the 4th seat of a Mumbai local & yet feel comfortable. 

Opening a tiffin box during the recess was an art. While 10 hungry friends were waiting to snatch whatever they could lay their hands on, the skill was tested that none of it falls on the floor of the corridor & yet you manage to get some for yourself. If not, then you become one of those 10 friends for someone to open their tiffin. Some tiffin boxes were more sought after. Hot piping dosa with gun powder was my favourite box to plunder. Most of the late afternoons were spent trying to catch baby fish (larva) armed with tree sticks and a transparent plastic bag. I used to insist that those are tadpoles, while some called them Guppies, while a few went forward to boldly claim that they were gold fish. The place to fish usually was a very small, filthy, mosquito infested pond or an open drain. Putting a hand in that water to dip the bag etc was considered completely acceptable and that's why I feel that our generation has the requisite immunity to tackle any virus. Some of the guys would actually take these back home and keep them in a glass jar or even puppies of stray dogs. On that platform, I had a deprived childhood. Parents position was very clear. It’s either the stray dog or me. Proud to say that even at the age of 10, I was able to make sensible decisions.

P.S. : School evokes a rainbow of mesmerizing memories and I restricted myself to the Monsoon Magic. Perhaps I would write a book to capture most of these wonderful memories & anecdotes some day –

"WHY MY SCHOOL OWES ME A REFUND !”

Till then Ta – Da ! Yogi the Zen