I do not remember much of my very initial years. I do remember things from an age of 2.5/3 years though, I guess. My parents do tell me that I was a hyperactive child, multi-faceted, inquisitive, curious, talkative and impressively intelligent when I was a kid. When I was born, I had something that worried them. They took me to the doctors and different doctors way back then (around 84-87) told them that it could / might lead to a lot of medical complications, like cerebral membranes’ inflammation and other things like a swollen head.
I was very young when I started talking and my dad says I had the kind of precise grasp over pronunciation which is rare to find at that age. Father also tells me, that I would speak and recite tough to pronounce Sanskrit texts and verses behind Him when he would sit and do his rituals and worship every day. He tells me, I would imitate not just the words but also the tone and the voice modulation. I was 2.5 years old when someone recommended that dad should make me learn music.
Dad took the advice seriously because of two reasons he says: 1. He was obsessed with the possibilities of me being unwell on the basis of the medical problem and hence wanted to provide me the maximum time and effort and best things in life that he could. 2. He noticed that I was sharp, intelligent and keen. So, He finally devoted himself to my well being, growth and development.
I do not remember my dad ever spanking, slapping, chastising me. He’s perhaps the kindest and yet the most upright father there could be. He taught me throughout the importance of a decent touch and the importance of being vocal, communicative. He taught me to embrace who I was. He taught me strength was a good thing, but it had to be controlled. He also taught me that my strength came not from denying who I was, but from embracing.
I remember Him telling me that being a woman was not about being week. It had nothing to do with gender. Just like He could be all maternal while still being a male and my mom could be all robust, active and doing all the tasks that needed to be done, in spite of the fact that dad was the decision making authority.
I have faint memories of my daily routine like dad waking us early morning, massaging our limbs and back with oil and bathing us and getting us ready while mom would finish the kitchen work. Dad teaching us or helping us memorize some more Sanskrit texts, grammar, math, science concepts and/or prayers, poems.
We would then be sent to school, initially by dad on his cycle, then in the school bus by mom at times and at later times by the auto rickshaw that would pick us from home and drop us back after school. Back then, dad was posted locally, would be back by then (when he was on an early shift in school, he was just a teacher then, not a head ), so we’d change, eat, take an afternoon nap, wake up, do the homework, usually I’d manage myself. Then he’d take me to a music teacher, come back, teach me language, grammar, math, read stories with me, talk about the people in the stories, the values, the morals, the ethics everything.
This routine as I remember was my routine till I was 10 years old. I remember, my younger brother was born when I was around two and a half years old. My grandmother helped me change at home and when I asked about ma (I call my mother ma, though we called her mummy when we were young and my father papa), I was told she’s gone to hospital to bring my brother and would be back in a few hours. When I got up from the afternoon nap, my mom hadn’t yet come back and I started crying. I clearly remember my eldest uncle giving me a chocolate and talking to me about school and so many other things to distract me. We lived in a joint family then. My grandparents would spend some time at the pilgrim spots nearby and some home. My uncles (2 of the three) and aunt (1 of the two I had) used to stay in the same house.
If I started rambling, I could go on and on and on about my childhood, there’s just so much of it. But when my mom finally came home, she had a beautiful baby with her – my brother. I do not really remember how we were raised in His first few years, those memories are fuzzy in fact blank and I’m surprised why. I do remember that he started talking early too and was equally sharp. And I remember that whenever I’d take ages to drink milk, he’d say jiji (sister), hurry up, drink it fast!!! (in his stuttering, baby voice) and I’d be irritated like hell. He used to suckle his thumb, would dress just like me, but I’d sometimes bully him. We fought a lot, but we’d always share all the things. In fact my parents always brought two of everything they brought.
He started going to school and music class when he was 2.5/3 too, and at a young age he was diagnosed with hypermyopia. It was then I was diagnosed with the same too. We both looked very similar way back then and people often mistook us for twins, with similar clothes, similar heights, chubby round, beautiful faces and thick glasses :)
I remember I gave my first public speech addressing an audience of 500 at 3.5 again I was then covered in almost all local and a few national dailies. Sometimes big front pages, sometimes small columns. I wrote my first poem about my brother’s habit of suckling his thumb at 6, which my dad kept as a precious memory and then it got lost some years ago :)
The speeches, stage and music never stopped, nor did the reading. after those smaller versions of stories from scriptures, next came lives of religious devotees, then best classics of world translated to Hindi and abridged versions. Followed in translated Bengali literature, Gnanapitha award winning novels from Hindi and other regional languages. Debates, speeches and everything else would always be in HIndi, education, study and school in English. Mom working on spellings, math problems, practice papers as dad would guide her to make us do them :) We siblings fighting, pulling hair, biting, digging nails and then going out for sports on sundays, to the nearby garden, swings.
However, there’s one thing I prominently remember now. I had a doll, which often would be my mother and take me to an imaginary doctor. Sometimes, it was the daughter and I would take her to the doctor. The doctor would always be me. And I would talk myself to sleep. My brother and I would play a household and I’d ask Him to dictate dinner menus and I’d ask Him to do the masculine work and let me do the feminine tasks :)
I don’t remember having any friends. I was in a missionary girls’ school and I remember having loads of jealous girls and classmates who’d wonder why my parents, teachers, senior girls and even their parents lavished so much attention, awe and respect towards me. They were always willing to chuck me out of play groups, even when I tried to join in and after I got specs, it got all the more tough. I remember that I had lost control on urination once when I was 9.5 if I remember correctly, though there was a small course of medicine my parents got me and things were back to normal. But that might have been for other reasons now I think of it. But that’s another story. So, remaining for the next installment :)
© anu (Exploring Myself)
