I never loved attending school.

As a student, I was very quick to grasp what my teacher taught. My interest in learning lasted as long as I mastered the subject. Once I had attained mastery, I found school boring.

This was one of the reasons why it was an ordeal for my mother to get me ready for school. And Saturdays! Oh my God! They were the worst. It was not lesser than a battle.

On Saturday, we had a half-day school. That of course was a matter of joy for me, but getting up early in the morning was such a task! Every Saturday my mother would use every possible way to persuade my brother and me to get up early and get ready for school. She cajoled, convinced, pleaded, threatened and even thrashed us! Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. My brother loved going to school but the whole drama that took place before going to school was the reason for his delay too.

One day my mother tried a new trick.

She knew I was fond of Amen biscuits available at the nearby bakery.

One fine morning she woke me up in a sweet voice.

“Get up my child, my baby..!”

I simply ignored her and turned to the other side with shut eyes.

“Ok, if you don’t get up now and get ready for school, I will give Amen biscuit to your brother only”.

I pricked up my ears.

Did I hear it right? Amen biscuit? Oh my God, that was a treat for me. I sprang up in the bed and widened my big eyes filled with disbelief.

“Amen, biscuit? Did you say Amen biscuit?”

“Yes.”

Amen biscuits were round, soft biscuits that I loved to dip in tea and enjoy its feel. The sweet soft taste of it rested on my taste buds and made me feel as if I was in heaven. It was not lesser than a ritual for me.

I got up and rushed to brush my teeth. Few minutes later we three were heading to the bakery. I had given in to the temptation and I could see a triumphant smile on the lips of my mother.

On our way, we monkeyed around.

The baker placed an amen biscuit on each of our palms. Actually, he should have packed them but he directly gave them to us. Maybe he was aware of our fondness to the sweet round thing and he thought that we would not wait till we reached home and would prefer to eat the moment we got it.

We did not wait for mother who was busy paying the baker.

We were returning home dilly-dallying. Dawdling, fiddling, talking nonsense and laughing at those nonsense talks. The very feel of the soft biscuit on our palms had filled us with energy. The touch of it was a thing of joy for us.

By then my brother had started nibbling on his biscuit. Such an impatient fellow he was!

I acted like a sensible kid. I wanted to enjoy the biscuit with hot tea.

I thought he would at least save half of the biscuit to savor with tea, but he was unable to resist the temptation. We had not reached home yet and he had taken the last bite of it.

When my mother noticed it, she scolded him.

“Couldn’t you wait?”

I enjoyed seeing my mother scold him which was a rare scene. He didn’t answer but I could sense from his expressions that he was being restless to see my biscuit in my hand and regretting his impatience.

And I was building castles in the air, thinking that my joy of having a biscuit with tea would double to watch greed and repentance in his eyes.

Suddenly, as if out of the blue, a crow swooped down on my little palm and grabbed my Amen biscuit and flew away.

It happened so swiftly that for a few more seconds I did not grasp what had happened. In a blink of an eye a bird came from nowhere and pecked at my joy. That was a heartbreaking for a small girl. Three of us stood wonderstruck!

A few moments later, my mother said in a plain tone, “Make haste. We shall get late for school”.

She avoided eye contact with me. They were filled with tears and had an unuttered plea ‘Mother, please get me one more Amen biscuit!’

She ignored my looks.

Maybe she did not have money. And may be she did not want to cater to the whims of a small child. Or maybe she wanted both of us to learn a lesson from the event that those who have little money to buy the things of joy should safeguard their happiness strongly. She could have returned to the baker and requested him to give biscuits on credit. She was a woman of discipline hence she behaved in a way that sounded unkind sometimes.

The crow introduced me with ‘pain’ at such an early stage. This incident repeatedly took place in my life. The crow kept swooping on my happiness, joy in form of problems or humans.

Many years passed.

I created a Facebook account and many joined me as friends. One of them was from Ahmednagar. He used to read my posts and comment on them. In one of my posts, he discovered that I too belonged to Ahmednagar. He kept talking with me and listening to him was like reliving my childhood. We talked about the streets and lanes and neighborhoods where I played and laughed and cried. The child in me answered my call and reverberated it.

One day he told me that he was on a tour and had a plan to meet me on the way to his destination.

I was happy.

Suddenly he asked, “What gift should I bring for you?”

He was referring to the custom of giving a present to someone you are visiting for the first time.

I am a very simple person and I don’t want anyone to incur expenses for me. He was coming from the place where I had spent my childhood. He had the touch and smell of the soil of my hometown. That was a gift itself! What else could I have asked for? I knew the difference between the expensive and priceless. But his question stirred something deep in my heart. The sleepy birds of my memories resting in a dark corner of my heart were awakened and they flew away. I ran to catch them. I saw a small girl hidden beneath the cover of growing age, whose joy was snatched by a wicked crow. She needed a remedy for her unhealed wound perhaps. I went forward and hugged her. I broke my rule of not expecting anything from anyone and said, “Would you bring me Amen biscuit?”

He kept silent. He thought I would ask for dress or anything like that.

He said, “I will definitely bring it”.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t visit me, but his question gave birth to another question, ‘Does the child in us die as we grow? Or does it lie in the womb of time waiting for rebirth?’

I remembered my all time favorite gazal...

ये दौलत भी ले लो (Take all that I possess)
ये शोहरत भी ले लो (Take all my fame)
भले छीन लो मुझसे मेरी जवानी (Take away my youth from me)
मगर मुझको लौटा दो बचपन का सावन (But return me my childhood)
वो कागज की कश्ती (Those paper boats)
वो बारीश का पानी! (And the rain water) 

.    .    .