Part V
I studied class 5th in P.V. School near Kennedy
Market. This market was a modern and beautiful commercial building named after
slain US President John Kennedy. Some of my classmates I remember in Class V
were: Aijaz Jamali (not sure he was there!), Farooq Gaad (Died in 2010),
Sikandar (gave up further education due to poverty and became a Tonga driver),
a girl named Zaib-un-Nisa, etc.
With simple life and abundance of time (remember that no one
owned Refrigerator, TV, Telephone, etc.) we would spend much of our time
playing various games, like; Gilli-Danda (Deeti Dakar, in Sindhi), Pithoo,
Wanjh-a-Wati (In Urdu they used to call it; Palay Palay) and Kho-Kho. It was a
girlish game that we, boys and girls, used to play together. Later after
growing up, we started playing it separately. My young sisters would play
Ball-Pikklay. It was like tossing a Ping Pong ball in the air and catching it
before landing while picking seashells (coffee beans shaped called Kaudi) cleanly
from the floor. The best place
to play Gulli-Danda and Pithoo was a wide but deserted street along Girls
Primary School near Post office. Other advantage of playing there was that it
had a small open drain on only one side of the street i.e. we would not have to
retrieve the Gulli and Pithoo ball from filthy drain frequently. Few
other games were Rope skipping, and Hop-scotching; marking lines and squares on
the floor with a piece of coal or chalk, throwing an object in the last
pattern/square and retrieving it while hop-scotching without touching
the lines.
Our youngest of
siblings Noor was born in 1970. His birth was awaited since long because
parents wanted to have 3rd son before they stopped further production. He was
named as Noor about 5 years ago. In
between my two sisters Nasim and Yasmeen were born. Until Noor I was adored
more than anyone else among all siblings. Nevertheless, the whole family was
delighted on arrival of Noor. As he started growing up, our house got flooded
with toys, not costlier though. When he turned 3-4 years old, father bought him
a toy-car with paddles that he instantaneously learned to drive. Father, Munir
or me; one of us would always run behind him in the streets as he drove his
toy-car almost every day. In the late evenings one of us would also take him to
the railway station as he enjoyed watching moving and stationary trains. At
times we would make him sit in the passenger car of the train as it stood
briefly on the station.
Our grains, onions and some other traditional vegetables for
home consumption usually came from the ancestral village where we had some land
holdings. Sacks of wheat and rice remained stored in our house. Mother would
wash some wheat to cleanse it from dirt and other impurities almost every
month. We would help him wash it and then keep it for drying upstairs on
Charpai in the sun. Once dried completely she would give either of Munir or me
in a canister contained about 10 kg of wheat to get it grind into flour from
the Chakki (Grinding machine) located at some distance from the home. We would
put it on our shoulder on both ways. Regarding grocery, I would usually be
assigned to buy vegetables while father or Munir would buy Mutton, chicken and
fish.
Our evenings both in summer and winter were also of routine
chores, and predictable in the sense that everyone at home knew what their
duties were; during hot summer when the day would begin cooling down we would
go to upstairs, line up the Charpai (beds) and lay the bedspreads so that by
the time we returned for sleeping the beds get cool down. Father would bring
mangoes while returning from the work or anyone of us would buy in the
afternoon and these would be immersed into a bucket full of water. Once Mom
would prepare rice in the supper we would take the mangoes out of bucket and
eat them with rice. Sometimes Pakoray would replace mangoes. Every one of us,
siblings, would get four Pakoray to consume with a plate of plain rice.
Sometimes we would play tricks; conceal a Pakora in rice and pretend to Mom
that we got one less than our share or would hide it for the purpose of
revealing it later and enjoying when all had already eaten up their share. My
mother would prepare “the finest parathas of the world” that we took in our
breakfast before leaving for school.
Around 1972-73, father bought a used motorbike because he was
getting it difficult and tiring to paddle bicycle on long hauls. It was a
yellow colored 110 CC Honda (or 100 CC Yamaha!) fully loaded (with extra
garnishing, lights and a radio transistor installed). Father started learning
and driving it simultaneously. A few days later after buying the bike he came
home with his hands, arms and knees badly bruised, with some bleeding marks.
After getting First Aid he told us with a pale smile about what went wrong with
him: While I was driving the bike in the city center an acquaintance
waved at me and said hello. I replied back with a smile and waving hands. Here
I fall tumbling down on the road injuring myself. We loved it and laughed back at him. Continued ……
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