Recently, I was slurping down the last bite of the juicy Mango in Bombay, but my mind was somewhere else altogether. Reeling in nostalgia in a time far far away. The taste of the mango had taken me back to the good old memories of childhood summers.
Summers were my happiest memories from childhood.
Two whole months without school was a celebration in itself, but summers in India had a charm of their own. Despite not being a fan of the sweltering heat and growing up in Chennai.
Summers meant unchartered days. The liberty to do as you please, when you please. The time where nothing was off-limits, even if it was playing all day.
As I ate that mango amidst being locked down in Bombay during summer, I could not help but become nostalgic about those days spent together at home doing nothing. There was just one television and probably one AC in the house. The times when each of us did not have a mobile screen to dig into. Instead, we had to talk to each other or play together for some entertainment.
For the longest part, summers for my sister and me were reading Harry Potter books all the way from 1 to 7. We had to plan the logistics of it even before the exams ended for, we had only one set of books between the two of us. It involved serious scheduling of our average reading pace, who’s exams got over when to smoothen out the entire flow without fights. But of course, the estimates went off every now and then, and we would throttle each other in a bid to finish it first.
With both parents working, summers for my sister and me also meant summer camps. It was a chance to do something new for the very first time. Meet different people, learn new skills, and explore to your heart’s content were the norm. I’ve spent summers learning arts and crafts, swimming, badminton, attending Balavihar classes, and acting in plays.
The highlight of summers, though, was the annual vacation that featured for a week or 10 days in between these two months. We used to have family meetings 6-7 months before the actual travel to vote on the destination of the year. These were, after all, the times when IRCTC was not so tech-savvy. Trains were the primary mode of transport, and summers being peak travel season meant you had to make your bookings months in advance.
We have traveled to so many corners of India through these trips. Every year one destination. We covered Kulu, Manali, Shimla, Nainital, every inch of Kerala, all the way to Kanyakumari. The long train journeys meant never-ending games of UNO and Rummy, hoarding Tinkles and Chacha Choudhary’s, and eating all you can eat crap at every station. And the worst of them all, being always afraid that dad will miss getting back on the train every time he steps out of it to buy water at the station. The fear was quite real, then. It still is, now.
More than anything, childhood summers would always be close to my heart, for it meant that the fours of us got to spend a lot more time together. Whether it was merrily getting along or fighting until we broke an arm or leg, there were still the best memories of my childhood.
While the circumstances today are nowhere close to the carefree days of childhood, I can’t help but feel secretly glad to have received this gift of time. I don’t think I could have ever imagined spending 6 weeks with my husband, 24*7. I don’t think we spent that much time together ever, including when we were in our hostels during college. Thanks to technology, these days have also meant more frequent video calls to Chennai and the United States, talking about everything under the sun from cooking recipes to worst WhatsApp forwards.
The circumstances are far from ideal. But as I went down the memory lane, I can’t help but feel that these times are precious. And that they probably will never come back. And my heart is filled with a warm and fuzzy feeling of gratitude. Grateful to be healthy and safe indoors. Grateful to have been given this time and space to spend with loved ones. Grateful to love and be loved by friends and family and to be connected despite stressful times. Grateful to be able to journey in time whilst relishing a good old mango in the summer heat.