I cherish my childhood days the most. I didnt have much to do being confined to an apartment. Now when I watch children playing in parks and streets I realise I never had any of those luxuries. But it was strange that as kids we never demanded to be let out we were very obedient , my mom says. But within those four walls we had our imaginary world. I consider myself unfortunate as my memories of childhood were never mine. My memories were borrowed from my siblings. All my tales are their adventures. I was precociously mature and wanted to grow up soon. And in this stupid pursuit I failed to appreciate many beautiful moments where I should have just been a kid.
This is an all time favourite episode of my childhood memories. I call it the Nescafe war.
Mom like any other Indian woman had this strange habit of storing spices in bottles of nescafe, horlicks. She was a hoarder of bottles and plastic covers and still is. Dad a supporter in this movement would even bring bottles from office to encourage this maddness. I hope mom is not reading this else she would explain how all the pickles were stored and how many bottles travelled to my hostels.
That unfortuante day my sister decided to start a new hobby a collection of nescafe bottles. What could you expect from poor kids confined to four walls three months of summer vacation. I often found the hobbies of my siblings an insult to intellect and was busy reading a book. My brother was hardly 2 years then and he had problems with his speech. He usually never spoke much but that particular day he made and emphatic statement " I am starting nescafe bottle collection today". Thud!!!! " How can you, I just started it today , you copy cat?", yelled my sis. My brother looked too cute that you would give him anything he asked with that cute smile of his.
He found out that there were just two bottles with which my sister had begun her collection. I could not fathom what interest they had with junk so I continued reading. I could hear my collection, my collection being yelled and after sometime I heard a scream and mom came running from the kitchen.
My brother had long nails and was scared of a nailcutter. Mom could only cut his nails when he was asleep and it was due for quite some time. My brother scratched my sister to get those two bottles. It was a street fight kya family hai, I told myself.
"Why could you not control them , you are the big sister", mom yelled at me. I gave her the
" You- Talking- About- These-Mortals- To- Me look. My sister was screaming for the bottles with a bleeding face and my brother seemed pleased. Mom snatched both the bottles and cancelled the distributorship to nescafe bottles.
Now when I go home I see the same brother make coffee for the same sister who drinks it from a nescafe cup with the scar on her cheek. And I still smile reading my book - Kya nescafe din the
Bachpan bhi gaya , jawani bhi gayi ab jeene lage hai :)
HAPPY BDAY BRO