A Basket of Seasonal Joys
As an assortment of entertainment during
school days, there were many inclusions to our basket. Although seasonal, they
were an important part of student life, beside the curriculum. These were not
lessons taught in classrooms. These were lessons taught by trees, by grounds,
by the changing seasons, and by the simple act of being a boy with time on his
hands and hunger in his belly.
Many types of trees were part of our school
campus. Gul Mohar, Shehtoot, Bel Paththar, and Jungle Jalebi. I don't know
their botanical or English names. I never needed to. I knew them by their
fruit, by their taste, by the memories they gave me.
The Red and the Tangy
It was our favorite activity to enjoy the
flower of Gul Mohar. We used to pelt stones to take those buds out from the
tree to eat. They were simply delicious due to their tangy taste. I don't
remember a year without eating these flowers during my stay in school.
It was a real beauty to see the flourished,
colorful Gul Mohar tree with green branches and red flowers on them. Those
trees were all over, but densely situated on the peripheral way to the Fine
Arts department. We would walk that path slowly, eyes scanning the branches,
hands searching for the perfect stone. The aim had to be precise. Too soft, and
the bud would not fall. Too hard, and it would be crushed before it reached us.
Thok.
One falls. We scramble. We peel the petals
back, bite into the base. That sharp, tangy burst on the tongue. Sour. Sweet.
Alive. We never missed a year. Not one.
Jungle Jalebi
Jungle Jalebi. I don't have its English name,
but those who know it by this name might have their mouth full of water.
Scorching and sizzling summer never was a
hurdle for those who liked to enjoy this unique fruit. The back side of
Baghbani in middle school, next to Bhopal ground, was the location to find
Jungle Jalebi. Since the branches have thorns, it was damn difficult to climb
and pluck the fruit. Ghulail or good aimers were always having an advantage to
get more in less time.
I still remember collecting Jungle Jalebi
along with Kamil Hasan, Mohammed Talib, Shakeel, Muqeed, and others in Bhopal
ground. We were a gang of hungry marksmen. Summer heat? What summer heat? We
were boys. We had fruit to bring down.
Bel Paththar
Bel Paththar. These trees were under secured
mode and guarded properly due to their fruit and healing benefits. A few of
them were situated in Baghbani of middle school, and in Baghbani of Faujdar
Saheb, in between the school field and Jamia nursery.
In Baghbani, it was Baba Din who made it very
difficult for us to steal this fruit, and it was next to impossible with
Faujdar. A group of four to five people was always ideal to execute this
mission. Lookouts. Climbers. Runners. One wrong move, and the stick found your
back.
I think I have mentioned in one of my posts
earlier about a Bel Paththar falling on one of my friends. Heavy. Merciless. We
laughed later. Much later. Once we ditched Baba Din and got at least two pieces
of fruit, it used to be a party time. But it was equally dangerous to climb the
tree, as all the fruit-bearing branches were weak and there was always a risk
of fall.
Kammu ka Khet
Kammu ka Khet. On the way to Jamia College
from the store, just after Maktaba Jamia, where MCRC is situated now, there was
a big piece of land. Very fertile and always green with seasonal vegetables and
fruit trees. Barricaded by wired fence and Kammu's vigilant plus violent
approach, it was very difficult to sneak through and try something that
violated Kammu's commercial interests.
But as usual, we always broke through his
fence to steal Amrood, mainly, and sometimes Gaanth Gobhi. By the time he
traveled 20-25 meters almost running, we were already through with a few guavas
on the road. The math was simple. He took time to reach us. We needed seconds
to grab and run.
Sometimes the calculation proved wrong and a
few got caught. And a few got the taste of his batten instead of guava. The
impact of hitting with a stick, although bad and painful, was controllable. But
being trapped with Kammu was very bad, because finally one had to bail out on
parents' request or through a known person. That meant a lot of humiliation and
firing.
Never mind. Kammu's Amrood were really good,
and so were the Gaanth Gobhi, Gajar, and Mooli. Kammu used to sell fresh
vegetables and fruit to Jamia employees and to the local market at reasonable
rates. He was a businessman. We were thieves. But his Amrood were worth every
risk.
Faujdar Saheb ki Baghbani
Faujdar Saheb ki Baghbani. It was very
difficult to get access to his farmland for the purpose of stealing. All four
sides were properly protected with barbed wire fencing, along with branches of
Babool or Keekar. The only way possible to try was from the playground.
Mooli, Gaanth Gobhi, Gajar, Amrood, Jamun were
big attractions of his orchard, and they were very tasty indeed. Another problem
that made our mission more difficult was his two sons, Gulzar and Mukhtar. In
fact, Mukhtar was with me, and his presence at all times made it very difficult
to avail any fruit.
But I have never given up in my life, and so
my friends were also hungry for those tasty fruits. We tried all means to find
a passage. Finally, during hockey practice session, we found one. We properly
inspected it for operation and then left it covered with tree branches for
tomorrow.
The next day, I sneaked inside with Kamil to steal
radish. We succeeded too. But at the time of returning, Faujdar Saheb noticed
our unauthorized presence. He shouted and started running towards us, and we
did the same. He recognized both of us. While escaping through barbed wire, I
got my school shirt stuck and finally torn.
I enjoyed mooli with my friends, but worried
about the shirt and what to say at home. My eyes blinked and I thought of an
excuse, without knowing that Faujdar Saheb had already conveyed our activity to
our parents. My mother asked me the reason. I lied to her. Knowing the facts, I
got some nice imprints on my body and face.
I promised never to steal anything from
anywhere in the near future. It was a promise based temporarily on emotions to
find an escape route. I must admit that stealing Amrood, Mooli, Gajar, Gaanth
Gobhi were really fun, and I never got the same taste since after leaving the
school.
The Taste That Never Returned
I don't know whether Faujdar Saheb's
plantation still exists, but Kammu's khet is now a part of our memories during
our school days, to give way to MCRC.
As small Shehtoot were in abundance in Jamia,
we found it easy to eat wherever and whenever required. However, the bigger
version was available only at limited places.
While looking back, I wonder how people become
very busy nowadays. We used to have plenty of time after school timings and
used to sit in school for multiple activities. Maybe those days were more
secure and parents had faith in the school.
I am sure many of you reading this have a
similar past when it comes to the sweetness of an AMROOD. An Amrood stolen is
never just an Amrood. It is a memory. It is a taste. It is a time that will
never return.
