Tag: nostalgia

Aaj ki Story: Cricket

Kal dekh raha tha twitter par kaayion ko Tennis ke khel me Federer ki haar ka gam manaate hue, kuch aalochak khusi bhi mana rahe the. Wahi, Nadal-federer waali ladaai. Hua yun ki dono hi haar gaye. 🙂

Khair, mujhe isme ruchi nahi thi. Par “tennis” se hamesha sanyog se mujhe ek hi cheez yaad aajati hai. Nahi aap kuch galat andesha na lagayen, waise vichaar nahi vyakt karne wala main yahaan…

Tennis balls se to ham bas cricket me hi khelte the kisi zamaane me. Jee, Tennis ball Cricket keh lijie aap.

Gendbaazi kiya karte the. Technical terminology me , medium rafter keh sakte hain. Zaheer bhai ka milta julta action tha, ye ham socha karte the. Afsos, tha nahi.
Dheemi gend kaafi mashoor thi. Waise dheemi shayad hare k gend hi hua karti thi. Bohoton ko chakma dejaati thi parantu….aur out hone par, “ye kya hogaya? “ waale expression bhi dila jaaati thi.


Par raftaar kam hone ke kaaran aksar ek aad beech ke spell hi milte the. Ya kabhi ek aad over. Wo bhi doston ki meherbaani rahi to. Wicket na bhi loon to economical hi rehta tha.. Ab gend me tezi hi nai rehti thi, to maarna thoda mushkil tha. Line-length sahi tha.
Tailender banke ballebaazi bhi ki kaafi. Square cut kiya karta th, achaa maarta tha. Ye main nahi log kehte the.
Par hota yun tha ki maidan me peeche run banane ke avsar nahi Milte the. Chote ground hone ke kaaran, seema seemit rehti thi.
Fielding kaafi kharab thi., kaafi kharab. Ground fielding khaaskar ke. Kaafi run galaaye hain..
Ek aad baar crucial maukon pe run deke match bhi harwa diya tha team ko. Kaafi gaaliyan mili thi…

Par catch lapak leta tha, kabhi kabar. Ek baar kaafi saleekhe waala catch liya.. Jaisa Pollard ne Dhoni ka lia tha. Uchalte hue boundary par.
Kaafi Waah waahi batori us din. Sabne socha 6 aur Maine bana daala out!! Mahaul jam gaya tha..
Yaad Aate hain kaafi wo bachpan ke Cricket se jude din… Gali me.. Chat par.. Aangan me… Maidanon me… Bas cricket…
Kabhi plastic.. To kabhi cosco.. Kabhi rubber kabhi khanna (yahan ka hard cosco) to kabhi synthetic.. Sabhi gendon se khela hai.. Cricket. Khela hai. Achaa ya bura, abs ach me nai padta farq.
Fir jab jamshedpur choota… Dheere dheere Wo chootta Chala gaya. Bach gayi to mast waali yaaden…

Yun mauke to kayi mile.. Firse khelne ke… Par Wo Bachpan waala junoon nahi bacha.
Busy hogaye doosri cheezon me.

Kabhi in mohalle ke bachon ko khelte ladte Dekhta hoon., bas dekhke khush hojaata hoon.

To ye thi  #AajKiStory, jald hi doosri bhi

gali cricket

sunaunga… Achaa Naa lage to bataiega.. Shukriya !! 🙂

Of Rain, Raincoats and Paper Boats…

Rain drops are falling. Seems a switch up there, someone forget to turn off. It’s been two days!!! Dude, its summer??!!

Not that I’m complaining.

Thing is, this lad is in the middle of his internship, or Summer Internship. Aren’t you being a big hurdle in the process of his “learning”?? Yes you dear, the one who switched it on.

Now apart from the cribbing, there’s a lot to be admired about this situation. The weather has indeed brought out the romance in me, where I see myself enjoying its beauty like never before.

Enjoying those falling droplets on the dehleez, to the nice patterns they make near the window, to the washed and turned into green leaves looking like they got a makeover, to intentionally getting wet in the rain just to feel the awesomeness coming down from up there all over me, I’m doing it all.

Not just that, it has taken me back in time. Time where, as kids rain used to mean an excuse to miss school. A day off used to mean making paper boats and becoming sailors in the rain-made rivers flowing down the gali. I still remember how boat-races between siblings and friends were so much fun. Even the neighborhood mango-tree was kind enough to drop in a few raw mangoes, which along with salt was a little treat of sorts

paper boats

Even on days, when school going couldn’t be excused, rain-coats and those amazing stories we had with them can never be forgotten. With bags tucked inside, as if we have a hump, playing on our way to school with the numerous streams of water, was the name of the game. Sometimes, when there was just a slight drizzle an umbrella would replace the raincoat, but definitely not the fun with rain. Opening a wet umbrella on a friend, or to even open it with the press of a button was like firing on with a gun.

Coming back to my little cribbing (Yes, I’m so used to it). Even back then, too much of rain always played spoilsport, especially for cricket-only-playing kids like us. And even when they stopped, the ground was hardly playable. But yes, Football was what we explored sometime, on muddy grounds with rain falling in, those were fun days.

Nostalgia, nostalgia and nostalgia!! Back home, everything takes you back to those wonderful times.

And how different is it now??


Like all non-atheist souls out on earth, praying to the almighty for rains in the midst of summer is a very common occurrence. And this time, when I’ve turned into a Salesman it was an even more of an urgent requirement. Thankfully, it did arrive. Bringing with it relief as well as an added advantage of an excuse for a No-work-scenario. (Now, this excitement of bunking, still brings in joy)

I take a coffee and sit down near the window, looking forward to enjoying the beauty that this weather bestows upon poor souls like us. It is not the one with exquisite and delicate designs that you enjoy the most, but these simple pleasures of a hot cup of coffee and watching beauty unfold before your eyes.

But what you don’t see is, paper boats flowing downstream in the water in our gali. Maybe those video games out there are to be blamed.



My Crescent, My School

This post is dated May 18, 2012


                              It’s been almost two days, since the first Re-union party at our Crescent school and still it is taking a bit of time to sink in that many things have changed over the last 5 years or so. The last time we were at the school 5 years back and the one that we visited two days back is in it has a stark contrast. It feels so pleasing to see the various developmental works in school. Before I proceed to give the whole development stats, I would like to refresh you of the Crescent school that it was 18 years back when I joined and changes that took place over the time that I was associated with it.
                                Our school was founded in 1975 and it’s almost in its 38th year of existence. 38 years is almost four decades!!!! This English medium school would be a money earning tree by now, if the founders of this school had wanted to. No English medium school would have the kind of fee structure as to what Crescent school students pay. It is very much affordable for almost all the families living in Azad Nagar area which is dominated with low income group families. And this has been the vision and aim of the founders of our school, Late Mr. Shamim Ahmed and Mrs. Eva Ahmed to provide quality education to people of all groups. The vision with which they gave shape to this school is slowly gaining shape now in the hands of their daughter Dr. Shazia Ahmed.
                                My first memory of Crescent school is when I was admitted in Mini –Nursery at the age of 3, and as is customary, it was very difficult for my grandpa to let go off a crying baby for hours in the school. But, they had to, and I needed too. Throwing away a lot of tantrums and crying my vocals out, I would sit in the classroom. With time, the crying baby was pacified by the teachers and A-B-C-D… would then be infused in my little head. Tiffin would get finished even before teacher’s signaled for us to eat it. All those “Put-Your-Head-Down-And-Sit” session acted as the perfect time to commit that crime of treating ourselves with tiffin. Mini-nursery, Nursery, L.Kg, U.Kg, each of it followed one after another. Learning new things in each of the classes we moved class after class. Sport’s day and Annual day used to bring a whole lot of practice sessions, doing those “Do-the-Boogie-Woogie”, participating in various races, but never actually winning it, yet taking huge pleasure in participating in them. Getting promoted to class-1 came along with many more things, you were not just scared of your teacher’s but also your monitors who would write names of students who used to talk in class in the teacher’s absence and when the teacher would come around, those names used to enjoy a small treatment in the hands of the teacher or her evil stick. Bidding goodbye to the morning session came with the good news that we are now going to be big boys of Day-session and you no more had to sacrifice your sleep.
                               Day session was like being promoted to a whole new level, where you get to be with the big boys. You were made part of one of the four houses, i.e., Red, Blue, Green & Yellow. You had your assembly with all the other classes where you get to maintain cleanliness and discipline. One new thing also was, starting to write with pens instead of pencils. There were various house competitions taking place at regular intervals and it was so great to be a part of all those and win some of it. It was this time that clearly, carved out the creativity in me. Teacher’s day was another huge celebration, and each class participated in a big way. In our first year in class 4 we staged a play called “Aladdin and the Magic lamp” where I played Aladdin. Many did appreciate it and we were even asked to repeat it in the Annual function, the very next year. Two years, we even staged Qawallis and on one occasion danced on some popular bollywood number too, which was so unusual for me (I’m a terrible dancer, to cut it short ) . Sports now had another addition for us, Charlie Chaplin drill. Not just practicing and performing it was fun but also the preparation of the Hat was interesting, getting that perfect shape used to take hours. Other drills included African dance. Where we got dressed as African tribal’s and even dumb bell drills too.
                          Day session was full of activities, sometimes this and sometimes that. Being in school was fun and rarely used to be as compared to the morning session where we used to search for excuses in the morning. There was a sense of competition too here and I suppose that propelled us to be good in our ranks too. Result was awaited like nothing else and to see your name in that list where the top3 ranks were written for each class was amazing. Each class brought about many more memories for us that are still etched in our hearts. Getting scolded for not doing your homework on time, of not covering your copies and books, of talking too much, not polishing your shoes or not washing them on Saturdays (and then using chalk to rescue you out), writing 1000 times various impositions, (“I will not talk in the class, I will bring this copy daily, blah blah.. “), and many more things. There were good things too, like being one of the few who did their homework and sit back in the class while others sit down on the floor doing theirs( esp. English grammar  homework by Miccu teacher), getting a round of applause when answering a question, when no one did, being made an example for a class for something, etc .
                    13 years were spent and then on one fine day, it all ended after finishing our matriculation examination. There were many things that one learnt in all these years, not necessarily every experience was good, but even the bad ones taught us many important things. There were partiality sometime, there were useless expenses, you got scolded for no particular reason, and the things alike. But, looking back those entire things do not matter much, what matters is what we learnt in the due process. We began to respect elders, value friendship, become aware, and it all helped in shaping up the personality that we all now possess. School life has ended and it’s been more than 5 years. Yet, all the things that we learnt in the due process have been more than helpful in gaining the kind of impact that was required to make us from no one to someone.
                   The school, at present, is being developed in a far better way. The things that were missing can now be located and I’ve heard even more changes are expected straight from the horse’s mouth. There is rewards system being implemented for the teachers for encouraging them even more. The whole school has been painted in attractive colors to provide a wonderful environment to the students to learn. The water arrangements have been perfected and so does the assembly ground. It’s a good feeling altogether to see your school in such bright light, and I do hope Inshallah, that it may reach even more new heights.

My Dadi…

This post is dated May 5, 2011

My Dadi…

Stepping on d Tatanagar railway station, since the last 4 years, has always been a moment filled with excitement. That feeling of meeting d two important F’s of my life ,my family and my friends, has been the reason for this excitement. But this day was an exception and I hated this for being such an exception.Was to board the Purushottam express on the night of 25th April for a long vacation. Everything was set. Just 8 hrs of journey and I’d be @ my home. But life had other plans for me, as always! Needed to rush for a train in d morning itself to reach home ASAP. Reason for it was a call from sis that Dadi is no more. Yep. My dadi was no more. I needed 2 repeatedly say it to myself to believe it.

It was not some shocking news I was listening to. I knew this was coming. frequent dialysis and increase in the level of sugar. the kidney failure nailing it all. But still it felt strange to digest this fact. The feeling that My grandmother is no more was something I had never ever thought of. There will be no one to scold my Ammi when something of my choice was not made for lunch or dinner. The feeling that there will be no one to sneak in a few bucks while going for a movie when I was running out of cash. and not just the material things, just the presence of her. her warmth, will no more be there! Too many things that I cannot even think of or cant put in words but will not be possible in the absence of my Dadi.
My Dadi’s love was the superlative of motherly care. Now there is no one who will be partial towards me. Which had always been there , me being her eldest grandchild. Sigh. But as they say ” har Jaandar ko maut ka maza chakna hai”. One has got to accept it. No matter how much hard it will be. Its life and one has to move on with it. I’m thankful to the Almighty that I could at least be part of the funeral. Atleast I could lend my shoulder to her Janaaza That I could at least help her in making her rest into her new home.
But there is regret too. Regret that I couldn’t see even her face one last time Regret that I was the one whom she had been longing for. But I was not there with her during her last breath. I feel like crying while writing all this. Something I didn’t do after hearing the news. I didn’t felt like doing. The only time I ended up crying was when I entered the house n Ammi just mentioned her name.
I still feel her presence around me. I close my eyes and her face pops up. My heart fills with regret that she couldn’t see me become a big man. Don’t know whether this regret will stay or fade away with time but one thing is for sure dadi, you will always stay by me for ever and ever along with Dada. May your soul rest in peace.


Childhood is one of the most treasured phases of our life. Some two days back I went to the mosque for Namaaz. While I was sitting there, some 4-5 kids came and sat beside me, all of them about 7-8 years of age, bustling with energy. I was just watching them talk among themselves and was reminded of my childhood days when I used to throng the mosque in groups.

I stopped myself from thinking more as prayers were about to start.

But once the prayer ended and I got out of the mosque, all I could think of, was about my ‘days’. How I used to be back then, and how time has brought so much of a change in me. I wondered how there used to be nothing other than having some fun on my mind.  There was hardly anything to think about.
And now, how one is needed to think innumerable things, from our career to studies to even girls. Each of them have their own distinct importance in your life. And the fact which we cannot deny is, one cannot run away from any of these things.
I long to go back to my childhood but my growing mustache tells me that I cannot! I wish, I had some magic power which would make me a child once again. But wishes remain wishes and this one is too good to be true.
In a year more I’ll even lose my teenager tag, n then it would become a more hectic life full of responsibilities. But I’m trying to be a little optimistic and hope I’ll enjoy my years ahead. IN SH ALLAH!

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