The P.T. period, as we call it, was no less than a festival for the fourth graders like us. The best thing about that period was freedom. One could do anything he or she wanted to do. Indoor games as well as outdoor games were allowed. Some students rush towards the basement to play carrom board or chess. Others were busy running behind a poor little football and kicking it harshly.
But I wasn't interested in either of those things. I remember that brief period when I enjoyed climbing above that hanging swing where students used to hang to increase their heights or to behave like a monkey The upper portion of that swing was covered under the heavenly shade of a Gulmohar tree. I used to lie under its shade, over the swing, and imagine things until the bell rang, sometimes even after that.
In one of my textbooks, this chapter was called 'Type of Houses'. There were pucca houses and kacha houses, and then there was my favorite - Tree House. I was totally mesmerized looking at the picture of a tree house. I imagined a lot about the lives of people residing in those houses, which led me to create a world in my head. That swing became my tree house where I sit and imagine. I enjoyed that space as it was hidden from the world. It's an adventure in itself when no one can see you and you can see everyone.
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That was the time when adventures in my head commenced.
I imagined a world widespread in the woods where beautiful houses were built in the trunks of humungous trees. I started naming the people as if I knew them personally. I was introduced to this lovely family. The 'man of the house' was called Uncle Tom who collected the wood and sold them in the bazaar three miles from their home. Okay! wait. To collect wood, he sometimes had to cut the trees down and I find it a bit cruel. No! Uncle Tom was not a woodcutter. He used to collect fresh fruits and berries and sell them to various fruit sellers in the bazaar.
His wife, Aunt Martha is a short-height, flabby woman, who is a wonderful homemaker. She enjoys cooking. Pancakes, cheesecakes, and apple pie are some of her signature delicacies. She takes care of their lovely children Marie and John. They both were roughly my age. Marie was a year older than John. Every morning they walk to the town to an English school. Marie is great at saving some coins from her pocket money. She treats her brother with an ice cream almost every week. She buys it from a vendor who sells ice cream on a bicycle.
John on the other hand was a sturdy guy who spent his money on buying tennis balls and comic books. He knows well the generous nature of his sister so he never cares to save for an ice cream.
In the woods, there were five or six families that lived knitted together. The Jacobs live on the banyan and The Aroras live on the banana tree. The Mehtas live on the neem tree, just next to the pond. But Uncle Tom and his family live on my favorite tree - The Gulmohar.
They have a few lovely pets too. Tuk-Tuk, the squirrel who lives under Marie's bed. Mimi, the pigeon, with his whole family has made a nest near Aunt Martha's room's window pane. And Tommie, a lovely, brown-furred pomeranian.
Every evening the children of all the houses play different games in the woods. They fly kites and run behind each other.
The elders sit around the bonfire on cold nights. They talk about everything under the sun while snacking on hot and crispy peanuts. They tell different stories. They also share dreams they see in their deep slumber and everyone tries to decode them. Lighting up the fire and being in the crowds help them stay safe and protected from the wild animals. I learned that from one of the episodes of The Jungle Book one fine Sunday morning.
The world I was creating in my head under the Gulmohar came to a halt when the gardener of our school trimmed the lovely tree and the swing exposed it to the world. I felt as if the roof over my head flew away in a strong windstorm.
All those memories showered in when I saw a little sapling of Gulmohar in one nursery. The nursery boy was quite sure that even in a small pot I'd be seeing red beautiful flowers pretty soon.
I brought it home.
Flowers or no flowers, It still reminds me of my friends John and Marie. I believe that they both are there in all flesh and bones and must be over thirty years of age. I'm quite sure that I'll find them one day. And I'll recognize them at first sight...
Love, Laughter, and Peace
HRN
