In school we had a “wet canteen”. As a kindergarten kid, we were forbidden to eat any eatables from there as items were impure and adulterated, that’s what the parents told us. Why? I still do not know, when the whole school with about 750 hostelers used to eat anything and everything sold there. I was not allowed to visit that tuck shop. We would pass by the shop and workers would sit outside making the tastiest ‘besan di barfi’. We could spend hours watching the process. The ‘bhunoing of besan’, adding ghee, laying it in trays, slicing them and displaying them. Let me confess, we didn’t know the difference between desi ghee and dalda. The smell of the mixture used to enchant me. But alas, if someone reported to Dad or Mom that their son was seen there, it would invite a thrashing. The child within me never could resist. Hostlers had pocket money to flaunt with, your's truly never got any. Plus, those guys could take items on credit. I dare not open an ac...
If you folks recall your childhood days, we used to love to collect all kinds of feathers. If one could get hold of a peacock feather, it was ultimate. By the way, that colourful “eye-like” part at the tip of a peacock’s tail feather is called the “ ocellus”. I had one and placed it in my math’s textbook. They said ‘vidiya aati’ hai. (It means you gain knowledge and wisdom). Feathers gave you some ‘supernatural powers’ to learn was a belief. Math was my weakest subject. Psychologically, keeping that peacock feather helped. My Granddad was a great ‘shikari’ and always used to have a “Black Francolin’s” (Kala Teetar) feather in his hat. We used to long to touch it and have a closer look. But it was taboo. He used to have various ‘trout spinners’ hooked to his hat too; dare we touch them. Having stayed in a huge campus of the HH Maharaja of Kapurthala, collecting feathers of birds was not a big shake. Over the years, while accompanying dad on his ...