Unfazed Raptures of a Candescent Adolescence

Difficult to traverse into the odds of ones likely childhood, the arena being a very tender and groovy thing to even play with. Never the same ideas roll into ones mind while thinking about ones own childhood, but after grueling around for 40+ summers, it makes things easierby the day, and to express to oneself about the genre' of their childhood is not that difficult a task ahead. Well, taken it up and let us see how we are going to strive further. I am not going to blog or pen anything unfamiliar. Am going to be very natural, honest, realistic, and all of those coz' what I am about to blog is about my other life, my childhood.

Born in our ancestral home (picchi nanamma's mansion) back in our village - Payakaraopeta, a small hamlet within the district of Visakhapatnam, formerly WALTAIR(named by the British in the early 19th century). Now, this mansion has a history attached to itself, where most of our ancestors have been raised as kids, this is our mother's ancestral home, and where even we have been brought up by our parents. Father's village which was another 60 odd kilometers away from here, stands testimony to all of us, as he was one of the first one to have surfed towards foreigh lands (Moscow, 1954 - 57 & 1958 - 61), where he taught Russian to the hungry russians, and ofcoz practiced his best passion - Geology. He was a master of the earth's crust playing and toeing with all those precious stones of the modern world, and he waded his way up very cautiously paving himself a strong foundational reputation for himself. Well, father never had time to take us to his village(though we went once or twice) and meet his mother - Smt. Rajeswari Cherukuri, who was deserted by her husband (good guy, but could not take her harrassments) early in life. So, we never got to see much of her or her love and she left for the Godly abode in Sep, 1993, without anyone of us(her son's images) around her. Such an untimely death shook me though I was old enough to understand the idiosyncracies of one's life. Well she lived alone, died alone, nothing new for us humans.

Mom was a very strong woman(not a woman of substance), but definitely a woman of a sensible nature, a strong will-power, a very methodical mind,a very calculative personality, a very intelligent individual, a highly respected person among my grandfather's circles of friendships. She took the reins of our family very young in life, only a sweet age of 16(having a daughter of 3 years to boast of), during which time most girls are still playing. Reins of a family which was into business of a very high value(cloth material), and also managing her own marriage with a person who was so highly qualified in those days(a P.hD in Geology from Andhra University), never knowing the depth or the dearth of her own future(she did not bother). There was I born amidst chaos and excitement and suspence ( as I was born after three girls - they prayed for me,mom told me later), and took the entire village by a surprise. I was born for a certain destiny(that was how I was brought up by my parents), never understanding the parellels of one's own life. This had not hampered any good things which were supposed to have been a part of my life ahead, but they certainly played a vital role in fashioning my role as a son in this family of no sons at all in the last 10 families. Let us see further, as what happened ahead was something so grand and spectacular that everyone was spellbound.

Schooling as can be, is as painful for any child of three and a half, being left alone by your man-servant among those four huge walls(they looked like a fortress for that li'l kid), and to disappear. Lead this life after being admitted into this school - Kotak Salesian School, in Chinna Waltair, Visakhapatnam. A very small school, later turned out to be one of the finest in the State of Andhra, had opened its doors to my wisdom, and promised to take me into it's folds provided I grew up and upheave it's reputation(which I could not unfortunately). Viswanatham, one of my house-holds very trusted (I wouln't call him servant), aide, took me onto his bicycle and rode that distance which sounded like an unending journey to the end of the earth. Soon, that became the regular funda of my school-going. Whereas my sisters - Prabhavathi, Usha Rani & Rajeswari(named after my father's mother), enjoyed a better and bigger school, called St. Joseph's Girls Convent, gnanapuram, beyond the railway station. This situation put me into a loop, as I became a loner in my admission into this school. Brother. Kurian - Principal, teachers - Caveri, Vasantha, Padma, Uma, Anne, and a host of educationists have been the reason for us to have reached this far in this life. Well, life at school was not that tough I, soon learnt, but not that easy either. Making friends was a way of life, coz' you know that you are going to spend the rest of the decade within those four walls, unless your folks get transferred to another city of dwelling.

After having spent sometime in this campus of Kotak, made a few good friends(all friends are good ofcoz), to name a few: Mouli, Neena, Devaki, Vijayagopal, Titus, Cyril(our school's neighbor - imagine his mother used to sell sweet meats on a small foor of the school), Anuradha, Ramayya, Girija Shankar, Raama(my colony neighbor too), Rama Devi, Sarada, Saraswathi(another colony mate) and Jagadathri(who joined us after 6th standard). These friends mostly have drifted away, except Raama who is still in touch(they say a childhod friend is the best bet one can have for a friend). Life has taken it's toll on many, some have failed but many are leading quite successful lives, if success has to be defined it would be a difficult task, as it has no boundaries at all, no proper face to show, no certain value attached to it at all. This added to the unending assignments of my life(becoming successful - whatever it meant those days), and I was driven towards it. The entry into teenage never made a difference to any us I am sure, but it did make a difference in our growth, in our outlook, in our maturity, in our wisdom - as this was when we started competing against each other. Measuring each other's marks, small successes, attendance becoming a strict vigilant rule, Manikyam master - our Maths teacher ebing idolised by all of us, and somehow I could not impress him too much. Raama was always his favorite and his maths bent of mind was the reason. I topped the class for most of those ten years, or rather we shared the glory of being the top of the charts everymonth, month-by-month, year after year, never letting down our aspirers(teachers and parents, equally).

The end of the 8th standard summer was one of the last one in my life of education where I had the best of times, (lke Ramayya says; "Naani and Raama were always there beside each other in the report card ranks,each one stealing one of the top two ranks, and being there for all those ten years), which lasted a full year, never to complain.

Imagine, am penning this, sorry (blogging this), after 21 months of this little one's arrival. Not that we ( me and wife - Ajju) do not have time, not that we do not have a heart for babies, not anythignelse, but the best part is - that no time is enough with babies. Aryan arrived on the 24th calender day of the January month in the year 2005, the year in which Shilpa got married (peddakka's pedda ammayi), the year which completes 6 full years of our marriage(remind me to talk about his magical phenomena a little later), the year in which I came across the best part of my nurtures life, completed 40 summers, moving into that age where everything is you do, say, see, swear, narrate is 40+. Sucks, as I am hardly 40+, am still into my early or max. late 20s. Have a lot of unfulfilled dreams which keep navigating themselves back and forth into my virtual life....what am I talking? Ya! I remember, Aryan guy came into this world with a lot of enthusiasm, I was waiting outside in the corridor of that small & safe hospital of Dr. Surya Ramakrishna (not a male), and my sis-in-law comes yelling out of the operation theatre, "it's a boy, it's a boy", and shakes my hand. Not that I was expecting a boy or prayed for one, but seriously asking I was expecting a girl to bless my fate which had been on the floor for the last two decades. Then could not think beyond that once I've seen this tiny fleshy fledgling towered by the towel in which he was nugged into, with tiny pads(hands), and a li'l bigger leggies(legs). Not much visibility on his face to claim he resembles one of us, but certainlyheads from a real bright royal line of babies. This, because, he had the best eyes(which I noticed later on), and the best hair ( no hair like his grand father).

Growing up for this baby wasn't easy as he is born into a family where a little fickledom rules(being a cross between a sudra & a brahman), which could not be helped at all. This was the beginning of that stage called baby-kingdom, where everything is according with him, everthing is according to his timings, he sleeps, we sleep, he eats and sleeps, then we eat, he plays, we try to look around to doze off for a few minutes at least, he cries, we wonder, he pukes, we still wonder, he drinks milk(off his mommy), we stare in awe, he dawdles around on the bed, we blink with a surprise.....goes on. The family of the mother rules the roost as the father's family is a little weak being away from all the fun during the process of his growth in his mother's womb. Mother (mine) was not a very helpful one though she got us married and then sent us away into the finer part of this globe where she was sure we would not survive and that we will come back home. Fate has it that we kept going against the currents, swimming in odd weathers. All this while, the only kept us going was the way we met, the way we got married, the way we sweared to fight it out...this did not dether us and our commitment towards each other. This kept us on and on (this is a part of our marriage story)......aryan was growing up to be a healthy-not-so baby.

Ever since I've known this world (loka gyanam), had come across a lot people, people of all sorts, shapes, sizes, volumes, psychologies, anamolies, mindsets, etc. People play a lot of games with nature - like swearing, abusing, praying, criticising, praising and also take them up so seriously that they never even think for a minute; what kind of an effect that action of theirs is going to produce in others hearts. Well we're talking about people and their reputations (for the late comers), and how well they dodge to keep it high and rising all the time.

This is one such case of the mistaken identity where the regular teenager who has lot of passion in whatever he does and says, does not care to what he carries forward into the future. This itself is a testimony to the many kinds of thought processes available in the open market called "The World". This is not about a sad story, not about forgotten friends, definitely not about the childhood fantasies, not even about the teenage brawls which one has so frequently, not about any of these, in fact it is about good friendships, matured relationships, folks who drift away early in their lives and get back to one and other in the later part of life leaving a deep sense of wantedness, the "i missed u a lot - can we sit on those li'l things we've missed out in telling to each other" kind of action frames. This takes half of anyone's life, 23 years is definitely a good part of life, especially when it is in the early stage, from the late teens to the early 40s.

Imagine what happened to Nelson Mandela, who was in prison from his 33 years of age to his 60. Is there anything left for him to do when he had lost all those bright summers behind those uncountable afternoons during which time he must've thought why he was there, and what is he doing behind those high & impregnable walls, which definitely are not his home. Home was where Winnie Mandela used to wait for all those 27 winters struggling to keep up the cold (not due to the temperatures, but due to loneliness caused by some unknown factor called "APARTHEID", which raged the South African continent for more than 4 decades and is still a cureless epidemic in that part of the world.

Never before anything of this kind took over the world so badly. Imagine what could happen to a boy of 14 years who loses his everything at that tender age, who will look up to his friends for support and love of strength. This strength is one of the strongest feelings which exist in today's society, a society which does not care for anybody, young or old. Now, when all or atleast a few of those friends shun you in public and make a mockery of your existence - how does one feel? Feelings get hurt, feelings which are so soft like the tender autumn leaves, soft like the feathers of a bird, soft like the skin of a child, soft like the heart of a baby, soft like the surface of the water - feelings all the way, get disturbed and run into troubled waters. When everyone closes their doors on this young boy's face - how does he feel, what goes on in his mind, how does he react to that situation, would he feel embarrassed or simply cry in a li'l corner of his room? What happens is so tough to even imagine as the age of 14 - 18 is a very tender age, age full of reality, age full of truth, age full of energy, age full of honesty, age full of sombreness, age where everything sounds and looks so interesting, now that is the kind of age we are talking about. Now, intention is a very difficult word to express and impress upon anyone but having said that, it can be handled from a different altitude altogether -so, quite difficult to say whether that action was intentional or unintentional but what happened after that cannot hold anybody responsible. Nobody, and talking about a family's reputation on which an entire generation feeds itself, this is the beginning of a dark era........to be continued