I suddenly woke from my deep slumber after a really long hibernation with this wakeup call, “Hey, you sleeping writer, rise and shine”. It has been ages since I wrote anything. I got this gentle nudge from my family and friends and here I am back on my blog.
The elements of spring are in full swing and beckoning me to write. There is so much to tell and share. The heat is unbearable, cuckoos are singing away their songs and the peacocks are calling too. The trees have sprung up with lovely hues of tender leaves and flowering glories. Exam fever is on and the college students are studying seriously. The school children are enjoying summer vacations with swimming classes and activity camps.
As children, we used to wait for the summer vacations impatiently as this gave us a chance to be at grandparents’ place and enjoy the holidays with the extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins. It was great fun, nothing to beat it. Most of our summer vacations would be spent in Devlali, as my grandparents had settled there. Devlali is an army cantonment and it served as a hill station as well. The town was characterized with huge bungalows with spacious gardens, big banyan trees, green fields, fruit orchards and sanatoriums.
There was this lovely old bungalow, a part of which my grandfather had rented as house. The bungalow had a huge garden, which was tended with utmost care by my grandparents. The garden had mango, guava, custard apple, lemon and sapota trees along with many flowering trees of roses, jasmine, champa, aboli and so on. Devlali had severe water scarcity during those times, yet, the garden was always in full bloom, thanks to the endless efforts taken by my grandparents. Then, the garden had an ornate pond, devoid of water and it was our hiding place during the game of hide and seek. We all enjoyed the fruits of labour of my grandparents in the form of delicious fresh produce from the garden.
My grandmother would be making all the papads, pickles and other goodies. We loved to rent cycles and ride all along the day. Devlali was a famous holiday spot for the Mumbai folks, specially the Gujarati business community and there were many sanatoriums in which people came for medical treatments. We loved to sit on the bench on the platform adjacent to the house and keep watching the fields which stretched wide and far. A railway line passed through these fields and occasional trains would pass through the day. The transport was available in the form of some Tongas and few auto rickshaws. There were local buses as well, but the frequency was by far negligible. One had to walk most of the time to reach the bazaar and other places. On the way, my aunt would tell us the interesting stories of all the Bhoot Banglas around and so on. We just lapped it up all and kept asking for more always. My grandma prepared many goodies and specialities, so very mouth-watering and tasty. The tastes linger on even today. I starkly remember the lame Kulfiwala, who used to come on a cycle. This old man brought the best matka kulfi ever and I always wondered how he could do all this cycling with only one leg.
The other outings included small trek to the Temple Hill, shopping trips to Devlali Camp Bazaar, eating Chole-Bhature and Punjabi Kulfi in Bharat Cold-drink House, trips to the fruit orchards, visit to Mukti Dham temple in Nasik and stay at my maternal uncle’s place who was posted there. My maternal uncle was instrumental in teaching me swimming here. We watched movies at the open theatre and attended parties in the army club. Then, there used to be those lovely sky and star gazing sessions while sleeping on the platform outside the house.
Many such endless memories are etched in the mind forever. It all seems to be a long lost dream world now. The amount of knowledge we gathered in those few days of the vacation was tremendous, something that could not be learnt in a school classroom. Now, the busy pace of life has taken over and there are no more such vacations-only the good old memories.
