A different summer

JAYASREE SARNATHAN

There was a time, when we skipped along the muddy pathways in our ancestral village with gay abandon. When life was full of music, from the waking call of the cock to the clamorous chirping of the sparrows that came to eat the rice flour kolam in the front yard, to the strange tones of the birds, it was music all the way.

It was a time of reunion at granny's house. And that was the time we forgot ourselves, our little worries about school and more importantly about our own future. All that was on our minds was that the "big" holidays had arrived after that frightening and gruelling annual exams. It was time to laze around.

When I talk about these holidays to my school-going daughter shebecomes jealous. She asks me why she has not been given a similar holiday. Her grandparents live in a first floor apartment, in a hot city surrounded by concrete structures. The only greenery she can savour is restricted to the pots in the balcony. The only bird life she can watch is the crow on the cable lines.

We did not have the benefits of technology to drive out the heat of a tropical summer. Air-conditioners were unheard of. No ice creams, no video parlours and no televisions too. Yet life was lovelier. For today's youngsters there are a number of coaching classes for Maths, Science, tennis, cricket and so on. So what are holidays meant for?

As I prepare my daughter for her swimming class, I cannot help thinking of the temple tank in our village and the pump-house in the farm.

The big banyan tree in the centre of the village was we played and fought. Cricket was our favourite game. A branch of the guava tree was our bat and the tree base our stumps. The dangling roots of the banyan served twin purposes - as swings and to climb. But mango trees were the most sought after.

In the afternoon we would retreat to our houses to 'cool' our bodies. Tender coconuts were our pepsi and water mixed with vettiver stored in the earthen pot was our "fridge water." Grandma's preparations were delicious and we ate every morsel.

Life in the village was simple and quiet. I took my daughter to my village recently. The banyan tree alone stood as proof of the days we spent. Everything else had changed. There was but a pool of water where the temple tank used to be. Houses have sprung up in what used to be the mango grove. There was no sign of brisk agricultural activities, no pump houses. Our ancestral home was long gone and in its place stood a two storied building. The shaded backyard, the cattle shed and all the other familiar scenes of village life had vanished.

My daughter says, "There are many things that we do during our holidays just as you did. You enjoyed your vacation in a different setting with your cousins . In the process you learnt many things about life. We too enjoy our time in our computer classes, in the swimming pool or in the summer camp. What you enjoyed is different but what we enjoy is also exciting. Infact think you are missing the holiday experience of our times."

Children today though seeming to wean away from the close-knit family culture, are none the less happy discovering new meanings for their vacation. Their preoccupation is largely with their friends and new friendships discovered. It is also a kind of bondage and understanding that they develop with their friends though not necessarily with the relatives.

With nuclear families becoming the norm, the family get-together during the summer holiday seems to be lost for ever. Summertime which stood as a symbol of reunion of families now stands as a witness to making new friendships, new activites and new types of enjoyment. And summer continues to be the time most looked forward to - as a time of togetherness.

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