Childhood Creations

(Going by the paper that I wrote this on, it must have been in the early 90’s. So that is where I shall file this.: Feb 2005)

My poetic talents were first fired by my 3rd std teacher, in Australia, a really pretty lady, by the name Miss Mary. As a child I had a terrific memory and a high level of imagination. When Miss Mary first asked me to write a poem, I submitted one that my 2nd std teacher in India had made me learn by heart. (How many miles to babyland…). Though she clearly must have known that it was not original, Miss Mary accepted it as my work. That was the last time I ever submitted something that was not my work.

I think there is a freer atmosphere for thinking in Australia than in India. An Indian student child is sadly suffocated by ideas and concepts too heavy for its age. I consider this a crime that suppresses all originality. Luckily for me I had a break from this system, early in life.

Up to my 2nd standard, I learned everything by heart, addresses, telephone numbers, lessons, songs, poems, everything. But I have a slight hearing deficiency (12.5% when I was in Engineering College as measured at AISH on a field trip). I think this accounts for some funny distortions in those songs that I effortlessly and happily memorized. The reaction of my parents to me was mixed. I can remember surprise, appreciation, irritation. I was encouraged or cut down to size as they deemed fit. I don’t think I still understand… I think some of the vague dreaminess with which I sailed through childhood had something to do with uncorrected short-sight. Perhaps my flat feet, clumsy walk and general butter-fingers, put me at the back of the sports-players and reinforced the joy that I found in the world of ideas. In the evenings, I always tried to hang around listening to the elders talk, but I would get unmercifully shooed out into the playground, into the compassionate world of my playmates, who tried to make the rules easier for me, so that I could play too.

Courtesy : http://slovly.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/bunnies2.jpg?w=500&h=610

I have always loved poems, especially those with nice words that rhyme… Tennyson, Wordsworth.. . Back in India in my 4th std, I used to maintain a list of all the stories and poems that I liked best along with the names of authors. Some of my own compositions used to figure in the list, along with works of Enid Blyton and others from my text books and story books.

Here is the first poem/rhyme that I wrote, as far as I can remember.

The bad lad

There was once a lad,

Who was very bad

One day he said to his dad,

I don’t like being bad

His father was now glad

Though before he was sad

That his son was a bad lad.

My dad’s eyes twinkled in response to this and he added a line about the dad being ill-clad.

Having a good voice and an ability not to go out of tune, I added tunes to all my poems and sang them. Then I would teach all this to Padma, my littol’ sister who was, for most part, my best friend, greatest admirer, only audience and severe critic. We are very close in age( 2 years apart) and being only two of us, we lived in a world apart, perhaps as twins do. I could not think of a person that I liked more than her. This was though we fought lots. I guess her encouragement counted most for my poems and stories, just as she strongly discouraged any diaries, reminiscences or essays. These frankly bored her. Also considering my tendency to use my writing as an emotional outlet from the age of 10 or so, writing nasty things about her in my diary or on the backs of “god-pictures” (in those days many notebook covers had Hindu gods and goddesses which we saved after the book was used-up), whenever we fought, which was very often, this was justified. This was my “horrible vengeful nature” as she put it. As I considered her astute and sensible, as I grew up, I accepted her pronouncement as unclouded, and I have consciously attempted to temper my strong sense of injustice with kindness and mercy.

Courtesy : http://slovly.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/dance-with-me-academy2.jpg?w=500&h=471

Not too fast

Not too fast

Not too slow

Just the right

To keep us go

Though the grammatical error bugged me, I just could not bear to lose the rhyme. In 2nd or 3rd std (Australia), Padma and I would go to buy a white chocolate called Milk bar for 10c or a Sunny Boy for 5c at a near-by store. There was a small narrow passage that we had to pass through. Scruplously clean as Australia was with a wire net to the left. There were very few people about. So one gray cloudy day we invented this game. She would take 10 steps forward singing ‘not too fast’ and I would lag behind singing ‘not too slow’. Then we’d both join up midway and walk ahead singing ‘Just the right to keep us go’. We loved inventing new games and playing them. I remember once when I was 15 and she was 13 we were looking out of a train window, pretending it was a TV. A lady passenger remarked, ‘you two don’t really need anyone else’.

Smile

You must smile to everybody

I must smile to everybody

She must smile to everybody

He must smile to everybody

They must smile to everybody

We must all smile, smile, smile, smile!

Letter

Please do write a letter to me

If you do

I will too

Write to you.

My sister

I have a little sister

Who slides down the banister….

(I forget some lines here)

She is very pretty

But sometimes very naughty.

That is a an ending against which she strongly protested (though true).

My Sister : Courtesy : http://slovly.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/balletfifthposition2.jpg?w=500&h=520

The clock

I have a little clock

That goes tick, tick, tock

To tell me the time

It starts to chime.

Tick, its seven

Tock, its eight,

Now its time to go,

Away to school straight.

I remember my father asking me if I wrote this one all by myself. I said, “Yes, really”. He said, “I only asked, because its so good”. He encouraged me to send it to Children’s World, one of my favorite magazines, but I did not get any response from them.

The sky

The sky is blue

A lovely hue

Come let us go and play

Joyfully, this sunny day.

The sun is very beautiful

My cup of joy is more than full…. ( I don’t remember the rest…)

Thathagaru, (my grandfather) said that it was artificial. I don’t still understand. But I do remember that I made this ‘pome’ up on my way back from music class on a really sunny day with a blue sky when I was in high spirits.

Courtesy : http://slovly.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/waltz23.jpg?w=500&h=688

There was one rhyme about a robot, a 4th standard composition for school. My teacher, Mr. Eawes (Australia) said this would be a nice robot to have…

The robot

I am a robot….. (a few lost lines)

Everybody loves me

Coz’ I give them lots of money.

If I had written other poems in my childhood, I don’t know. I have forgotten them. That I burnt all these things in a fit of rage and depression, is an adult story that I cannot recall now. I only know that I did because my notes say so.

Cortesy : http://slovly.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/talia-and-alyssa2.jpg?w=500&h=454

Ganesha Banda, Kayi Kadubu Tinda… (Ganesha Habba was a big part f my child hood and later life also)

Photo Credit : Satya Sarada Kandula : All Rights reserved

Ganesha Banda, Kayi Kadubu Tinda

Chikkerelbidda, Dodkerelleda!

“Ganesha came. He ate coconut (vegetables) and cooked round snacks (undrallu, kadubu)

He fell in the small lake and got up in the big lake!

Bangalore is gearing up slowly for Ganesha Habba (festival). When we were young, this is the song that children would yell while finally taking Ganesha for the immersion in Sankey Tank. Those were the days!!

Since this is the era of the loudspeaker religion, there will be movie songs played at a high volume wherever Ganesha is kept.

When we were children, we used to take Akshate (rice grains consecrated with turmeric) and go around the neighbourhood asking – “Ganesha Ittidira?” (Have you ‘kept’/installed ganesha?)

The goal was to see 100 (or x number) of Ganeshas, sprinkle some akshate on each Ganesha, do the sashtanga namaskara (salutation with all limbs touching the floor) and gladly eat the sweets and sugarcane offered by the lady of the house. Bangalore was a safe place then where kids could happily ring the doorbells of strangers.

Now kids come with receipt books to collect money for installing the community/area Ganeshas much before Ganesha chaturthi. They have to book the “Ganesha” , they tell me.

The streets are slowly lining up with Ganeshas and soon they will be everywhere. We usually pick an environment friendly mud Ganesha, that will dissolve in the rain in our garden., and do our shopping on the day before. Take a look at some pictures and enjoy!

Photography, Authorship and Copyright Notice : All Rights Reserved : Satya Sarada Kandula