Of moments of childhood

 
 
By Vijay Phanshikar :
Tyres crunch
on the gravel ...
Dad !
- Self

FOR this moment, one waited -- every afternoon, every evening. Arrival of Dad from the clinic was that moment at which one’s little world came to a halt. Every day was special. Every arrival brought sunshine -- of unfettered smile, of loads of books, of baskets of fruits, of that sweaty but warm hug. The dogs also swarmed around, happily barking and wildly swishing tails. That moment was so special-- very special -- for everybody. In anticipation, the whole house went into silence, waiting, straining ears for the gravel in the front yard issue the signal. We all ran to the front door and flung it open.

 

 

What came in every time was the fountain of life incarnate for all of us. What followed was a flow of endless stories at lunch -- or dinner -- and flood of jokes, and of course stacks of books in the car’s rear seat. Yes, there was an occasional terse instruction, too, to do or not to do a thing. There was a reprimand as well. But that was terribly short-lived -- often. The smile and the laughter never vanished. Dads are always like that -- and moms, too. Eternally happy ! Forever giving ! The affection that never dries, never dies ! After decades, now one has to strain to recall any bad moments.

 

Those might have been there. But those memories have faded long, long ago. Or, those memories never endured beyond a few minutes -- even in those moments. For, even those moments, as frail recollections sometimes rise in mind, were clad in absolute affection, bathedy in concern, steeped in love. What a time -- childhood ! There was school. There were studies. But there also were sports and adventures in the neighbourhood. There were festivals and new clothes and great meals and fantastic dishes to swoop on.

 

There were those afternoon hours in the garden around the house where freedom to do anything was to be taken for granted -- granted so graciously by Father and Mother. Times were great -- by any definition. But the defining moment was the tyres crunching on the gravel in the front yard -- signalling Father’s arrival at home, bringing in boundless joy and a sense of freedom to do anything, to undertake any risk, to invite any trouble. For, under that umbrella of love, one’s little world was so secure, so much cordoned off from evil. For, that moment defined the day, defined the evening -- and defined the undefinable perimeters of unbound happiness that a child deserves. Now also, after decades when everything has changed, the memory of the crunching tyres still awakens one’s childhood.