Our old house..

 

       There it was!!! All five of us- my younger brother Krishna, sister Neelam, Neelam’s two daughters and I- stood gaping at it with wide eyes, open mouth and word refusing to tumble from our mouths.
       We were visiting Meerut after 34 years for a marriage and had eagerly come looking for this house of our childhood. As little children we had spent some very memorable and happy moments in that house. It was the first bungalow allotted to our father after he received his commission in Indian army. It was a huge majestic bungalow of the colonial era with four acres of land secured with a boundary wall   and two huge iron gates. The horse shoe shaped house had big verandah running around it with beds of flowers of all colors running all round the verandah. Inside was a horse shoe shaped drawing room with big windows and large doors opening in the verandah and the drawing room had a fireplace too. I am yet to see a modern house with a fireplace and a chimney opening on the roof. Beside the drawing room there was a huge dining hall with large doors opening in bedrooms on two sides and a large kitchen and bath rooms on the third side.
         Everything about that house was big. It had a large front garden and in the backyard stood a large kitchen garden. Roses of all colours, raatranis, mogras and trees like amaltas adorned the beds that bordered a large green lawn in the front garden. I can never forget the cool moonlit nights, we enjoyed in that garden. In the kitchen garden stood two pucca tandoors and a quaint little cottage which must have been an outdoor kitchen. The previous colonial residents must have thrown big barbecue parties in the backyard. In this kitchen garden our father gave us our first lessons in gardening, we were each made to sow chilly, tomato or vegetable plants and also look after them and make them grow. We as kids were proud owners of tomato or brinjal plants!
        In the kitchen garden also stood a mighty mango tree, two tamarind tree, one bearing red tamarinds other bearing  green ones, one shehtut (mulberry) tree bearing finger sized purple and sweet shehtuts ,numerous jamun,  bel and kabit trees. I am yet to see a lal imli tree or a purple shahtut bearing tree. The mango tree was a shade for our cow and also support for our swing and climbing place for us in summer. On the border of the boundary wall stood some servant quarters and horse stables.
       As a kid I often visualized myself as a dainty little maiden flitting around the house in flowing white gowns.
        After our father’s transfer we moved with him to different places, lived in different army accommodations of different sizes but could never forget that house. It remained the house of our childhood, the house of our dreams.
        And now that very mighty and beautiful house lay their dilapidated in ruins. The front garden was gone, the kitchen garden lay barren. Instead there stood multi storied buildings in the open ground. While all the adjoining colonial bungalows still stood mighty around the old house, some junk had decided to pull down the house and build multi storied houses instead. They pulled down the roof and the verandah but all their strength could not pull down the mighty wall so the house was left there to rot. Instead they built multi storied houses in the open ground around the house. The green trees, roses, raatrani were all gone. The servant quarter still stood on the borders of the boundary wall.
        My brother sister and I, stood still in front of the ruins, too shocked to say anything. At last my sister broke the silence, With tears in her eyes she could only say – “Oh, why did we come here to see the house, at least in our memories it was alive till now – now it’s dead, gone forever “.
By – Janki Yadav

Welome

Hi..डीजेएफ़एचकेएसडीsद,बीएनएस,एमडीबीएन

केडीडबल्यूजेएफ़एचकेजे

एव्ल्क्ज्फ़्ह्क्ज्व

Re-visiting Alma mater..




     While visiting Meerut, after 34 years,  in February 2014, my brother Krishan, sister Neelam and I decided to visit our alma maters, our old schools, as well.

    As kids , Krishan and I had  studied in St’. John’s higher secondary school, Meerut and Neelam being the youngest had studied in the Punjab Regiment  Kendriya Vidyalaya, Meerut which was nearest to our house in circular road.Neelam was eager to show her school to her twin daughters so they also accompanied us.
   The Punjab Regimant Kendriya Vidyalaya was the first on our route.It stood as a much developed and bigger building than before. It being a holiday the building was closed but Neelam could fondly remember the boundary walls of the school from where they used to watch the trains passing by. Within the school compound was the principal’s bungalow. The nameplate bore a very scholarly name but we ,having come uninvited and   without prior intimation, dared not to enter the house.
   St . John’s higher secondary school was the next on our list.It bore a cheerful look as usual. I had studied here for ten years. I had got admitted in the upper KG class and had left after passing ninth standard. In most ways the school and I had grown together. Earlier there was only the main building, the chapel bearing marble stone declaring that the building was built by Begum Sumro of Sardhana in 1831 for the the sons of Englishmen. The latter wings, there first and second floors, three labs, basketball ground, the huge stage were added gradually as I moved from one class to another. All this was there but a lot more had been added.
   One peon showed us around. The simple primary classes and cycle stand behind the main building had been replaced by modern nursery section with colorful furniture, toys, pictures, learning material etc. Part of principal’s bungalows garden had been converted into kids’ play-zone complete with colorful jhoolas , slides, seesaws, swings,merry go rounds etc. On our request the peon opened the gates of the play zone and let the girls  have a good time  for a while.
    The principal Mrs. Chandralekha Jain met us very cordially and was very sweet to offer us tea along with snacks. The little ones got handful of chocolates and a gift-wrapped  little box each as well.Sitting in the principal’s office surrounded by huge trophies, dignified photographs I felt proud of my alma mater. I had spent most of my childhood here and learnt most of everything I know now. I had been best student,had won several general knowledge competitions and had become an inspiration for my younger siblings.
    We talked at length about the school of our times,the teachers Mrs. Das, Mrs. Joel, Mrs.Tiwari, Mr Chauhan and above all Mr.C.H.Herbert, the Principal then. Undoubtedly Mr.Herbert was the man behind the growth, success and discipline of the school. Sometime back someone had posted on the facebook group of St.John’s alumni about Mr.Herbert’s  ghost still taking rounds in the school and I playfully asked Mrs. Jain if she had seen his ghost in the campus. Mrs.Jain laughed and said No she had not seen anything although she too had been warned about it.
    On our way back I casually asked the little girls which school they liked better. Wiithout batting an eyelid or thinkiing for a moment both shouted in unison- ”Momma ka”. All three of us turned at them with surprise written on our faces. I instantly wanted to point towards the chocolates in their pockets, the gift-wrapped boxes and remind them of the wonderful time they had had in the kids play-zone but i stopped myself and realized that the twosome had not bothered to compare the the two schools at all.Both of them were simply being their Momma’s daughters.Daughters everywhere are just the same. For them their momma is always the best and the most beautiful and everything connected with their mother has to be the best.
By: janki yadav