29/1 Khurbura Mohalla was a small house in a narrow lane flanked by open naalis (open sewage ducts) on both sides. The lane served as a perfect alternative to a cricket pitch and somewhat rectangular ground equal in size to the width of the lane. Lets be fair to me and my friends of those times, the pitch was also somewhat hard and rough and uneven. And the ball used to find its way to the naalis many a times too (mostly the one on the other side of the lane from my house - most of the batsmen were right handed and leg side was eveyone's strength) Despite all this, we managed just fine.
Cricket was a passion among the Khurbura residents. And since there were lots of residents, there were many players. That too of all age groups. Had Kapil Dev decided to open his cricket academy in our Mohalla, it could have been a super-hit instead. Everyday at four forty five, Sunny used to come calling my name. Actually he used to call me ningi-tingi. Likewise, I used to call him singi-mingi. Now guys,. I have no idea in the least as to why we used to call each other that and wherefrom these names had sprung up, but they had stuck on. And we were happy calling each other that. Singi-mingi and Ningi-tingi. Sounds almost like Timon and Pumba!
Singi-mingi was a natural when it came to cricket. I am not even in touch with him now, but frankly he was the first person I really appreciated. I liked to see the way he batted and the way he used to spin the ball. Plus he was a good teacher and he taught me my first bowling lessons and taught me spin bowling. Of course, later on I learnt to play some decent cricket - but still, singi-mingi did a good job of getting me started. That, and cycling. Singi-mingi taught me to cycle as well. At least for the first few sessions where we would go and rent bicycles from that cycle shop near Blue Bells (my first school, which was located on the road above the huge chadaai-wali sadak, the road with a slope) for a rupee an hour and two rupees for two.
Of course, soon after I began my bicycle learning sessions withma. We used to take the cycle to the playground of Mahant's school (Mahant is a religious head of some sect in Dehradun) where from ma would hold the carrier of my bicycle and run along with me as I pedaled. I still remember the moment wen I told ma I want to pedal faster, and finding no reply turned my head to see her standing way behind me smiling and waving from a distance while realization dawned upon me as to what had just happened. It was a feeling of elation and joy and freedom that went right through me. Great moment. One of the most cherished moment of my life. Thank you ma.
I was gifted my first bicycle by my chachu. It was a Hero make and had cylindrical pads that went around the frame and got attached by velcro. I used to love it! I remember that whenever we used to wash the bicycle, I would carefully detach the pads and keep them aside before commencing the washing. Come to think about it, I suppose it was my favourite bicycle out of the three I ever had - better than my Ranger Swing too that had 15 gears.
Of course, by the time I got off Ranger Swing, there was papa's Hero Honda CD100 SS. I began driving it in standard eleventh - and yeah, it was too good. If I were to compare a moment equaling the one where ma left me all to pedal by myself, it was the one where papa let me have a go at the bike in standard tenth. We were in FRI (Forest Research Institute) and pa gave me a long lecture before letting me have a try. It took me three tries before I finally whirred the machine into motion and it was wonderful when it happened. And in that moment, I felt that release, that freedom once again - and it was worth every millilitre of petrol in it and each moment of the adrenaline rush in me. And when I came back and brought the bike to a halt in front of pa, he was smiling too just as ma had some ten years or so earlier.
But this is racing too far ahead in time. Back to the old days the next time.
So long...
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