Last week, I reminisced about the objects evoking memories of my primary school days. This week, I will delve into the items that accompanied me on the journey through my high school years.
36. The Shikhara
In 1971, when I was in Grade 5 and my brother in Grade 4, our parents believed we were old enough to create lasting memories and decided to take us on a holiday to Kashmir. The place held special significance for them as it was their honeymoon destination, which was cut short because my father received a job offer and had to join immediately. Ever since, they wanted to go back.
Additionally, my grandmother hailed from Jammu & Kashmir. Her family would spend six months in Srinagar, and when the snow season commenced, they would move to Jammu on horseback, crossing the nine-thousand-foot-high peaks of the Pir Panjal mountain range.
It turned out to be a memorable trip. We stayed in a houseboat – a three-room five-star accommodation that was still being fitted with luxurious furnishings. The owner, in need of money, offered us a room at subsidized rates. While confined to one room, we had the freedom to roam around and play in the living area adorned with an expensive lounge and a red carpet.
In Srinagar, we cruised the Dal Lake in a Shikara, climbed 243 steps to see Shankaracharya Temple, and explored three Mughal gardens – Shalimar Bagh, Nishat Bagh, and Chashma Shahi – established by the Mughals.
Then we visited Pahalgam, a spectacularly beautiful place on the way to Amarnath Cave Temples, and stayed there for ten days. There, we went to see the ice bridge on the Lidder River that doesn’t melt even in summer and Gulmarg.
Gulmarg got etched in my memory. It’s half a day’s walk from Pahalgam. My brother and I were on horseback while our parents were on foot. Having never ridden a horse before, and with horses tending to walk on the edge of the road next to the valley, we were scared the entire time. But as we reached our destination, the valley opened up, and it was a sea of green as far as I could see. I never forgot that sight. Gulmarg gets its name from two Persian words – Gul (flowers) and Marg (meadow). So, Gulmarg is a meadow of flowers.
On the way back, we stayed in Srinagar for a few more days, in the same houseboat. On one occasion, while crossing a main street in Srinagar, we were stopped by the police and asked to stand by the road. The Prime Minister of India, Indira Gandhi, was on a visit. Being the only ones standing by the road, we received an exclusive ‘namaste’ from her.
On our way back, we purchased souvenirs, including a wooden Shikara that adorned our mantel for years.
37. The cycle
When I entered my teenage years, I had three wishes, that, if fulfilled, would have brought me boundless joy - First, to grow taller, at least five inches (so that I am of the height of a normal Indian female); second, to get better at English language (so that I don’t feel self-conscious with convent educated girls I was going to meet in high school); and third, I could ride a bike.
Alas, my plea for height enhancement remained unanswered by the divine. Regarding my second wish, Providence demanded fifty years of diligent effort on my part. As for the third, it seemed as though the heavens revelled in toying with my aspirations.
The high school I enrolled in was 6.5 km (4 miles) from my home. I needed know how to ride a bike to be able to get there. All my friends could ride a bike, except me. I inherited my mother’s bike, which was a bit bigger for my height. Whether it was the bike's size, my own diminutive frame, or some other impediment, I failed to grasp the art of cycling despite repeated attempts.
Then, one fateful day, a friend offered to teach me. Desperation drove me to accept her proposal without hesitation. Together, we ventured to the grassy expanse of Khalsa College ground. With her steady support, I pedalled forward, unencumbered by the fear of falling on a concrete ground. Though the grass presented its own challenges, I persevered. As my friend released her grip, I found myself riding solo, if only for a fleeting moment. Panic set in as I realized her absence, leading to a tumble. Yet, amidst the fall, I discovered an exhilarating sense of balance.
Encouraged to try again, I persisted. With each attempt, my confidence grew until, suddenly, I found myself gliding effortlessly. In that moment, I knew that the divine had been observing my journey, waiting for me to demonstrate the requisite determination. And when the time was right, my wish was granted.
For six years, I relied on my mother's bike as my faithful mode of transportation, ferrying me from high school to college, and later, to medical school as I pursued my master's degree.
Then, on one scorching afternoon, while returning from medical college, I encountered a harrowing incident. In the midst of a congested stretch of road, a bus merging into traffic caught me off guard. In a frantic attempt to surpass it, I pedaled vigorously, only to misjudge the maneuver. The next moment, I found myself airborne, landing on the roadside. I don’t remember much of the incident other than I got up unscathed, a crowd gathered around me and people telling me how lucky I was to be alive. Someone pulled the crushed bike from underneath the bus, and a rickshaw-puller put in on the back of the rickshaw and dropped me and the bike home.
My parents bought me a new bike. I didn’t ride it for long though. Once my Masters was finished I left my home town and didn’t have the need to ride the bike again.
38. The Wristwatch
Another item I inherited from my mother was her wristwatch. When I commenced high school, decided it was time for me to possess a wristwatch. With great ceremony, I was bequeathed my mother's old watch—an aesthetically pleasing piece. It featured a small rectangular face with a golden rim and a slender leather strap that carried the distinct scent of aged leather. The dial, adorned with Roman numerals, spoke to its timeless elegance. While I can't recall the brand, its enduring quality was evident, having served as my mother's inaugural timepiece as well.
My father took it upon himself to instruct me on the nightly winding ritual before bedtime. With added caution, he demonstrated the proper method of putting on and taking off the watch. "Always put it on next to the bed with your arm extended, so if it falls, it falls on the bed." It would make a good story if I said that I didn’t listen to him and one day, while putting it on, the watch fell on the floor and broke into thousands of pieces. But I was a compliant young girl who adhered to instructions. I cherished and safeguarded that watch, and it remained in my possession for years.
I extend this care to all things in my life, valuing them for the joy and convenience they bring to me.
39. Novels
My mother's school housed a small establishment that leased Hindi novels. Did I mention that my mother secured a teaching position when both my brother and I began schooling? Well, she did. She tirelessly sought employment at various schools until she found one within close proximity to our home. Interestingly, the school she taught at was founded by the father of the renowned cricketer Bishen Singh Bedi and managed by his aunt.
One day, my mother informed me about a retired gentleman who had opened a book rental shop within their school premises. This establishment functioned akin to a miniature library, privately operated, offering novels for rent at a nominal fee.
As it turned out, my mother shared my passion for reading. Every week, we would rent two novels, devouring each within three days, swapping them, and then delving into the second selection before replenishing our supply the following week. Within a span of a few years, we had exhausted the entire library. At that age, I possessed an insatiable thirst for knowledge, devouring any reading material within my reach. I even perused old newspapers recycled into grocery bags, yearning for every morsel of information they contained. My addiction to novels extended beyond the emotional rush they provided; I craved the insights into human nature and the rich backstories of the settings they offered.
To this day, I remain grateful to the retired gentleman whose shop afforded me easy access to books precisely when I needed them the most.
40. A Bed Full Of Money
One day my mother came with the news that there were a few plot was at sale at the end of the street we were renting. Since we were renting for so many years, and it’s about time we start thinking about owning our own house. She convinced my father to buy a plot.
My father, not particularly inclined towards forward planning, surprisingly agreed to the proposal. They selected a plot and made a deposit. On the day of settlement, he withdrew their entire savings, amounting to about thirteen thousand rupees, and laid it out on the bed. Gathering my brother and me, he gestured towards the spread of cash, remarking, "See how much money we have."
This scene left an indelible impression on me, instilling a belief in our abundance. In reality, our financial resources were modest, but both my grandfather and father had always lived with the conviction that we were wealthy. This mindset significantly shaped their interactions with the world. I adopted the same belief. I think it’s a good belief to have, giving you a positive outlook for money, fostering fearlessness and contentment while promoting generosity rather than miserliness.
41. The Report Cards
I was a good student. How good, I myself didn’t know, until I topped the school in year nine. And then again in year ten. However, the significance of these achievements is overshadowed by the painful memories that accompany them—memories that eroded whatever scant self-confidence and self-belief I harboured.
In year nine we were to take the Education Board Exam as a practice run for the matriculation exam which was the real deal to secure a position in the professional colleges. During an algebra exam, I got stuck on a question. The supervisor, acquainted with my family, approached me to inquire about my progress. I mentioned a solitary equation that was giving me trouble.
To date I don’t know why she did it, perhaps from the goodness of her heart, she announced in a hushed tone that we could ask for help from each other for five minutes. The quiet room immediately went into a frenzy. Everyone turned to whoever they could and soon the noise started filtering out.
Luckily a very smart girl sitting before me. I asked her how to solve the equation and even showed her my sheet where I was stuck. She tried to explain it to me in a roundabout way but I didn’t get it. She probably didn’t want to help me but also didn’t want to say so. Five minutes were over. The supervisor called off the grace. That girl and I were still quibbling. To quieten us supervisor tilted the other girls’ answer sheet so that I could read. I got the answer straight away.
The following day, prior to the next exam, I was summoned to the principal's office. Seated inside were the other student, her father, the supervisor, and the supervisor’s superior. It appeared that the girl had lodged a complaint with her father, who then escalated the matter to the principal, necessitating some form of action.
Confronted by the principal, I was asked directly if I had cheated during the previous day's exam. Overwhelmed by the seriousness of the accusation, tears welled up in my eyes as I uttered, "I'm sorry, Ma'am... It's the first time in my life..." In response, her hand landed on my right cheek, delivering a stinging rebuke. Then came words that would remain etched in my memory: "How much life do you think you have lived so far?" Then her hand caught my right ear and twisted it, "Don't ever do it again.
That algebra question was likely worth five marks, and I had already solved it up to two-thirds of the way. Cheating only earned me an additional two marks. Yet, the sting of that slap lingered with me long after the incident. It imparted a profound lesson: never depend on others for anything. Put forth your own effort and accept the rewards, no matter how modest, that come from it. Very few are willing to lend a hand, you’re responsible for your own success.
That’s all from me this week.
See you next Friday.
At the end of year six I got my first bike as I needed transport to get me to secondary school, we bought it from my piano teacher, I knew how to ride as I was always nicking off with my brothers bike. I broke my first watch a couple of months after receiving it, we were on holidays and I was climbing over rocks at the beach and down I went, watch smashed. I remember the first time I saw what I considered to be an amazing amount of cash, it was £400, I’m not exactly sure where it came from, but I, sure it went straight into the bank. You were lucky to only get one slap. In Primary School I often got either a strap or blackboard ruler, I was a bit of a chatterbox in class. You would think I would learn… another good read a Neera. 🤗