Memories Eternal

Anecdotes from The Past - I

Alwal, a once beautiful suburban town nearly seven miles from the city, has seen many changes in recent decades. Unfortunately, as a long-time resident of this area, I do not find any of these so-called 'significant transformations' this once peaceful haven of lush greenery, empty spaces, and charming homes has undergone pleasant. This lonely town now bears the scars of relentless urbanization and modernization.

Nonetheless, I have some personal anecdotes from the past and present (amidst all the changes) of my old beloved neighbourhood where I grew up, came of age, and had the best time of my life. I remember my dear friend Rajveer, alias Raju, and all the other buddies who made this neighbourhood feel like an abode of blissful happiness and part of all the unforgettable moments of my life. Despite all the inevitable changes, their memories will live on forever.

During the early eighties, the familiar hymnal chant of the venkatesa suprabhātam coming on the radio and the delightful aroma of wood smoke rising from the angheeti* that not only we but many dormitories in Trishul Park enclave used to have it, especially those who lived on the ground floor they would lug the bucket-like stove out in the open area, regardless of the gas connection already installed, would gently wake us up every morning as we gazed at the green suburban splendour surrounding our historic cantonment homestead. We had a perfectly ordinary life.

A town called Alwal:
The pleasure of living in the cantonment

The pleasure of living with friends and their families — many of whom received postings from all over the country at Trishul Park — was a distinctive experience that perhaps only people with a defence background can understand that aspect of life where you meet different people from different cultural backgrounds, every three or four years and when they have to make a move due to their posting orders you have to bid them a quiet goodbye. (Of course, that led to our having a large social circle. But unfortunately, everyone had moved away, having lost contact all those decades earlier.)

Nestled in the suburban cantonment zone, also known as the "military area," our campus, Trishul Park, was about seven miles away from the twin cities. In the 1980s, there was very little or no traffic, only a gentle bustle of human activity in the urban area (city) a few kilometres south of Alwal; none too many in the suburban side, which was within commuting distance of the city centre, were too loud or noisy compared to the vast number of purposeful people, the incessant traffic logjams, and ubiquitous housing colonies that have come to exist over the last three decades or so.

Back in the olden days, of course, we had a great childhood. We experienced an idyllic time — peaceful, filled with all the simple pleasures that made our lives lovely and memorable. It was a time of calm, carefree living, free from all the endless chaos and stress of today's almost always politically charged antagonizing times we all are living in.

Looking back, I believe it was a blessing we grew up in the cantonment, in the suburbs, where the tranquil surroundings created an atmosphere that captured our hearts with its soulful serenity, which is hopelessly missing in these strange times of new truths and realities. That may be true, but every one of those heady years is still a beautiful gem I fondly cherish, a very private asset we hold dear and adore, safely stowed away in our hearts and forever etched in our minds.

Those days were truly magical. All the memories seem dreamlike today, perfectly crafted with sincere emotions and intense passion to last for the rest of our lives, till eternity. Even after all this time, I can still recollect every little detail of those incredible days of our childhood: the taste of biscuits and fruits, smells of mud, rain, homespun sweaters, cricket bats, colourful candies, stickers, walking to school, studies, mothballed clothes, chapatis, Hindi film songs, the light of days and evening twilights — it's as if my life depended on remembering those memories, and it always will, for all time. Memories are forever.

Our Trishul Park

Our long-time residence in Trishul Park was a lovely place like no other. It’s been many decades since I left it; now, I lived away longer than I ever lived there.

Very little of my early childhood environment is left: trees have grown into a small jungle shrouding the once-beautiful park-like neighbourhood into a geologically rough-textured backdrop, and the dorms or residential blocks have turned quaint unappealingly, being barely visible from the main road I sometimes ride through. When I gaze on the other side, I find our childhood abode and all the vacant lots are no longer visible. That sound of summer and exams is long gone.

Of whatever little is visual, I could see the old pathways we trod upon once upon a time have given way to black-tarred roads. There’s no trace of the old sentinels we once knew, like the banyan and neem trees that once shadowed the main road; the beautiful vacant landscapes around the residential blocks have disappeared completely, and the Army sentries have now taken guard of the park around the clock. No one is allowed inside (due to security issues), and no one is allowed to go outside (because the traffic on the main road is perilously unsafe​). Everything of that past generation has inevitably fallen victim to the relentless passage of time, as though it were vanishing beyond precious memory.

That old beloved era has gone into history, leaving only those who experienced it to recall it.

Everybody has a soft spot for their childhood years, and I'm no different when I reflect on my past. Ours was a generation of deep longing, love, and innocence. My old buddies moved out a long time ago — when the time came, I wondered why I hadn't followed in the footsteps of my old friends who had moved out a long time before. Poonam, beloved Poonam, moved to Aligarh, Raju went to Baroda, and Ruby, I think, relocated to Bareilly. Sushila and Suguna have moved to their hometown. Memories of the 1970s and 1980s are eroding.

Today, Trishul Park inevitably had embraced a lonely and decadent look, with overgrown trees naturally taking over the grassy expanses where Raju and I used to hang out to play cricket in the sultry afternoons and gentle evenings. None of the beloved slopes and inclines, empty spaces, and grounds are as they once were; the surroundings of the entire park have changed beyond recognition. Year after year, I remember, we would also linger around the jhula park and sit snugly in the TV room with other kiddies to watch Doordarshan tele serials like Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi, Khandan, Nukkad, Darpan, Star Trek, Different Strokes, Hum Log, Buniyaad, Chitrahaar, Saturday night movie, Rajini, Paying Guest, Lifeline and many more. I vividly remember watching the 1982 Asian Games held in New Delhi on Doordarshan. Those were wonderful days.

Today, all those forgotten memories are flooding back.

(To be continued...)

By Arindam Moulick

Angheeti* - is a traditional bucket-like brazier used for cooking using charcoal or wood.