I do not remember most part of my childhood days and to make the situation worst there is only one photo from my childhood which I have preserved with utmost care till now. In spite of not having many photos during my childhood to freeze time, I haven’t lost some of the best memories during those times. I like to call those memories “My Chaychay days.” And those are the memories which always brings a smile on my face for it includes everyone in my family.
How
Mama and Papa tamed us
The
quintessential childhood days in the late 1990s for a kid from middle class
family looked something like this. Mobile phones had not made it into our
country that time. So some of the games we used to play were marble game, card
game, Khopi (coin game), cricket, Goli Danda (similar to cricket), dart game
(dart made of compass), bala kuti, catapult game, hide and seek game, seven
stone games among others. There were so many games we could play to keep
ourselves busy. At night I would sneak away with my brother without mothers
notice to watch movies in DVD at our neighbors place. It looks like a happy and
monotonous childhood so far from my description. But the bygone days were a
mixture of joy and excitement as well as fear and tears. My siblings and I was
tamed by mom and dad whenever and wherever it was necessary. It did not feel
necessary at the time but it has made us who we are today.
Mom
and Dad had their own ways of teaching us lessons whenever we did mischievous
things such as sneaking at night to watch movies, fighting with friends, not
doing the dish, not fetching water, returning home in a messy clothes, not
washing our legs before we went to bed, peeing on the bed at night, calling my
brother and sister by name instead of Acho and Azhim. There was one thing
common when Mom and Dad taught us lessons. It was never taught to an
individual. They made sure that if anyone of us made mistakes, all three were
punished. I never understood the logic behind that decision. Perhaps, they
wanted us to know that they are not being biased. Dad wasn’t around most of the
time because being a soldier, he was on duty. We did get to see Dads rage sometimes
though. He would punish us the army way by keeping us in bend position for few
minutes and even lash us with his belts especially when he was not in good mood.
So it was moms wrath we used to fear the most. Mom had her own style of lashing
us. She would whip us with the cane which she used for weaving. When the cane
stick was not around, she would grab the curry cooker wire and the Tshechu
would start. As soon as the wire or cane touched our body we would start to cry
and shout. My sister would cry even before the wire or the cane touched her
body.
The
art of receiving the Lashing
My
siblings and I had our own ways of receiving the lashing from mom. Every time
my brother was whipped, he would bend down his legs with the motion of cane or
wire. The moment we knew that we would be beaten, he would wear long sleeves
and pants to minimize the pain from the cane stick. My sister on the other hand
was really funny. Whenever, mother beat her, she would grab mom by her leg
tightly or move towards mom instead of moving away from her. My way of
receiving the lashing was different because it required me to not receive the
cane or wire at all. So I would run every time it was my turn to receive the
beating because it used to happen in sequence. Mom did not come after me but
she would send my brother to bring me back warning him that he would get more
lashing if he could not fulfill the task. My brother would soon come after me
just like in a police and thief story, I looked like a thief in the story
though. I would run fast as my legs could carry me but every time my brother
gains on me, I would cry loudly and still run. Then my brother would burst into
laughter as he ran after me and this would reduce his speed. He never caught me
but at night when I returned home I would still get the beating from mom
sometimes. On most occasion, I would escape the beating because I would pretend
to be a good boy by doing the dish and fetching water and mom would have
forgotten about the beating by then. For some unknown reason, once mom ordered
us to line up in front of her as she unhooked the curry cooker wire from the
wall of our home. Before we were beaten, we looked at the each other’s face
filled with fear. The next moment, we all burst into laughter but mom still
beat us laughing. That time there was a mixture of laughter as well as cry as
we were beaten anyway.
Advantage
of being the Chaychay
Being
a Chaychay gave me a lot of advantage because I was the centre of attention and
attraction. My two siblings had to take care of me if they wanted to avoid
getting lashings from mom. Every time I did something naughty or got beaten by
kids of my age, my siblings had to report to mom with their backs. I would get
the excuse on most occasion but my siblings would be punished due to my faults.
Once
one of my siblings had hidden me in a wooden box where we used to store our
rice while playing a hide and seek game. They forgot to check on me. Mom was
not around but later when mom returned to cook, she found me lying in the box
with rice. I had fainted. My siblings had to face the wrath of mom.
One
day my brother made me a bow and an arrow so that I could play. There was no
target to hit, so I aimed towards the sky and released my arrow. Neither my
brother nor I saw where the arrow went but when it returned it had landed a
foot away from a man’s foot who was standing outside near his house. He saw us
playing and reported it to my mom. Then brother was called inside and I could
hear him shouting and crying. When he returned outside, I saw the anger and
frustration in his eyes. He broke my bow and arrow and I had to part with it.
That
time we were in Sarpang and areca nut was in abundance in the vicinity. So
every time there was a windstorm, my brother and I would collect areca nut from
the places nearby. We would dry the areca nut into pieces and fry it by mixing
it with sugar. That was our way of making Supari/Shakila. We did not eat it
ourselves but took it in school to show off as we gave it to our friends.
On
another occasion, I went to collect areca nuts with my brother. My brother was hitting
the areca nut hanging on trees with stones to bring them down. And I was busy
collecting the ones which had fallen on the ground in the pouch made by pulling
the end of my shirt upwards. As my brother was performing this action
repeatedly, a big stone which he threw at the areca nut hit the trunk and
returned. Suddenly my brother shouted, “Nuchu, run.” I mover around three steps
with areca nuts in my pouch and the stones hit me right on my head. The impact
was so great that I fell down on the ground immediately. The stones would have
missed me had I not run. When I stood up few minutes later, there was blood
oozing from my head. My brother removed my shirt and placed it over my head
from where the blood was oozing and took me home. Mom was horrified when she
saw what had just happened. She took me to the hospital without wasting any
time. I got seven stitches on my head. Later when we returned home, my mom
prepared boiled eggs for us. I got to eat it first as I watch my brother and
sister start the Tsechu once again in my absence. The scars I got from those
stitches still remains to these days.
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