Earliest Memories - Part 3 - Somethings In The Air

Somethings In The Air

The road across from the little boy’s house used to be usually full of pedestrians, a few lorries (trucks) carrying supplies to and from local markets, rickshaw pullers and light traffic of bicycles, motorcycles, cars and buses. It was a common sight in the daytime to see vegetable vendors pushing their carts and loudly calling out to their customers in their homes, on their front porch or balconies or windows, bargaining with them on either side of the street. They knew their regulars and enquired about their families and bantered loudly – everyone could hear them. One could almost tell time in the day by the routine of the passing of regular street vendors. A lot of shopping and daily supplies just came to the doorstep every day. Every week the rubbish paper recycler would come. There were people who would fix broken metal utensils, sharpen knives and even brought ‘divine’blessings and prayers on special occasions. The road used to be almost completely deserted at night but for some homeless wanderers, stray dogs, roving cows and bulls that are so typical of Indian streets.

Since the talk of war, the road became a whole lot busier but quieter. Many of the rubbish dumps along the way were cleared out or pushed further away from the road into the footpath area. Military supplies to and from the nearby international border flash point were transported on this road.

He remembered:

He and his sister were told not to go into the road by themselves while playing. A lot of trucks and strange looking vehicles were seen using the road in front their house during dusk, in the night and early morning hours. Their windows were boarded or papered shut firmly and they were told not to look outside.

Once, their new radio stopped working after something went wrong with the power supply. A kindly, friendly, beaming, bespectacled man with a smooth face and a distinct regional accent came to the little boy’s house to fix it in the evening. He was their father’s ‘friend from office’ – as he was described to them. He came with a bag of tools and fixed up their radio. He also brought them some goodies and treats and spoke of his own children who lived far away in another state. The little boy’s mother was ill and lying down in the bedroom, while the man worked on their new radio in their living room with the little boy and his sister watching. He talked in a whisper so as not to disturb the mother answering the questions by the little boy. He had strange looking glass tubes, wires, a flashlight on his head and a lot of pointy metal tools. He had something that went hot and melted some metal. It created a strange smell.

The little boy was fascinated with the strange looking interior of the radio from which all the magic sounds came. He saw glowing lights from glass tubes. He was told not to touch them or anything near them. He could not imagine how it could make the sounds like there were real people inside the radio!!

“You will get a shock! Don’t touch it. I know people who have died from electric shock,” the ‘father’s friend from the office’ cautioned. He told them about his own two children – a boy and girl. He spoke of his hometown and family. He even sang a few snatches of songs after hearing the little boy sing. He left quietly without disturbing the resting mother.

The little boy and his sister told their father all about his friend when he came home. It was evident the kids liked him.

“He is an expert technician who works with radio and wireless,” said their father , “He offered to help us when he heard our radio had stopped working.”

The local civil defence authorities had stepped up patrols, drills, inspections and preparedness for the war. Groups had been formed with trained professionals and volunteers in the local area. There were announcements on the radio often. All families would contribute some of their food and resources to these civil defence volunteers. They would give them meals and drinks during their rounds.

There was a tall, thin, quiet spoken boy, from across the street, among the many locals in the civil defence team. He came across with his friend and supervisor. The supervisor was a big, brawny looking, powerfully built man with a loud, commanding voice. He looked and acted macho and talked bravado! The boy, Harpreet, was a neighbour well known to the family of the little boy’s house owners. He had grown up as friend and neighbour to the now almost grown up and unmarried girls.

He would come around often, asking to see if there were ALL okay. He would sound very important, official and responsible. His voice had broken recently, he would croak in a mixed voice of a man and a boy. He had a faint moustache and beard coming up over his face. He would carry things for them. Inspect their house for preparations and help. He seemed to spend more time helping this household than others. The girls would sometimes act shy and giggle or laugh. Apparently Harpreet had a fancy for one of the girls and perhaps it was mutual. The adults were aware of this but no one spoke about it. They always had a grown up around when he visited now though.

To be Continued....


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2014

All rights reserved