Unlike many people, I don't remember things like "hearing people's voices" "seeing a face" "asking for something". My first memory isn't actually a single memory at all. It is a cluster of images I have of myself. All of them have me, tiny, dirty, bare footed wearing some semblance of a white baniyan and some form of shorts. And along with those images, I have the warm fuzzy feeling of happiness. It brings a smile to the face and warms the heart.
Of these memories, the earliest(if i was to really put them chronologically)would be perhaps an image of my mother's pudina (mint) patch at the back of the house. It seemed to me to be forever there- that square green patch of grass. And the minty smell that wafted when a breeze blew past as mum crushed the leaves with the stone pestle- for an accompaniment to dinner- is a still fresh on the mind. As if I can still smell it, here and now. Right behind the mint patch was the peach tree that me and my brother so loved. We always ate the fruits before they ripened- thus almost always making us ill. That beloved tree of ours- fell down when the cyclone hit in the late 1990's. How we mourned it's loss.
Moments of mourning were rare though- in those days. It was one fun filled day to the other. And for me, the best FUN was being drenched in water. I was a water baby if there ever was one. Though I don't remember how I developed this affinity for water, as far as I can remember, I have loved this particular element like no other. So I never spared a single chance I got to follow my brother and run off to the huge lake right next to the settlement. Of course, the lake was to deep for us, but luckily, it gave birth to a gurgling stream which was just the right depth for us. So we'd be there - in that ice cold water until too late when playtime got over. Mind you, all these activities were not a bit approved by the parents. In fact, they had expressly forbidden us from going to the lake( for most obvious fear of us drowning). And so it was that I was returning home from yet such a day- but unlike the other days, we had been too long in the stream. the sun had gone down, we were wet and had no way of drying ourselves before we got home. So with blue, shivering lips we went home where the wrath of our father awaited us. And wrath face we did.... But I don't remember what happened after that... (Will have to ask Dad)
However our day would end, the morning would begin with Mum dressing us for school. Blue uniforms, white shirts, neck-ties, and black shoes. Except on Wednesday. On Wednesday we wore our sport shirts and white shorts, and I wore my favourite white shoes. A hurried breakfast later, me, my brother and all the other kids from the settlement would be in the Jeep ready be dropped to school- a few kilometres away. I don't know why, but I was always made to sit in the front of the jeep(the Jeep didn't have doors). The Jeep would have just started when all the older kids would begin chanting "Ramhuai Speed!" which literally translates to "Devil's Speed" and our kind driver would more often than not humor them by obliging. In all of this, I would be clinging on to the only support I had in front of me, a bar like handle, waiting for us to arrive. I couldn't jump down fast enough!
School held another bunch of memories. From the peon sharpening our pencils for us to the distinctive gong of the hand hit bell. Lunch hour was most entertaining. I remember this piece of memory where the teacher says "Lets see whose morsel is the biggest!" and I shove an fistful of rice into my mouth and then proceed to grin like an idiot.
Strangely enough, despite the fact that I have pictures of me from that time, I have no recollection of those captured moments. Its as if my child mind grabbed onto those memories- spontaneous and brimming with life, and kept it safe for older me, and the to-be-older-still me. I'm eternally grateful to her.
Of these memories, the earliest(if i was to really put them chronologically)would be perhaps an image of my mother's pudina (mint) patch at the back of the house. It seemed to me to be forever there- that square green patch of grass. And the minty smell that wafted when a breeze blew past as mum crushed the leaves with the stone pestle- for an accompaniment to dinner- is a still fresh on the mind. As if I can still smell it, here and now. Right behind the mint patch was the peach tree that me and my brother so loved. We always ate the fruits before they ripened- thus almost always making us ill. That beloved tree of ours- fell down when the cyclone hit in the late 1990's. How we mourned it's loss.
Moments of mourning were rare though- in those days. It was one fun filled day to the other. And for me, the best FUN was being drenched in water. I was a water baby if there ever was one. Though I don't remember how I developed this affinity for water, as far as I can remember, I have loved this particular element like no other. So I never spared a single chance I got to follow my brother and run off to the huge lake right next to the settlement. Of course, the lake was to deep for us, but luckily, it gave birth to a gurgling stream which was just the right depth for us. So we'd be there - in that ice cold water until too late when playtime got over. Mind you, all these activities were not a bit approved by the parents. In fact, they had expressly forbidden us from going to the lake( for most obvious fear of us drowning). And so it was that I was returning home from yet such a day- but unlike the other days, we had been too long in the stream. the sun had gone down, we were wet and had no way of drying ourselves before we got home. So with blue, shivering lips we went home where the wrath of our father awaited us. And wrath face we did.... But I don't remember what happened after that... (Will have to ask Dad)
However our day would end, the morning would begin with Mum dressing us for school. Blue uniforms, white shirts, neck-ties, and black shoes. Except on Wednesday. On Wednesday we wore our sport shirts and white shorts, and I wore my favourite white shoes. A hurried breakfast later, me, my brother and all the other kids from the settlement would be in the Jeep ready be dropped to school- a few kilometres away. I don't know why, but I was always made to sit in the front of the jeep(the Jeep didn't have doors). The Jeep would have just started when all the older kids would begin chanting "Ramhuai Speed!" which literally translates to "Devil's Speed" and our kind driver would more often than not humor them by obliging. In all of this, I would be clinging on to the only support I had in front of me, a bar like handle, waiting for us to arrive. I couldn't jump down fast enough!
School held another bunch of memories. From the peon sharpening our pencils for us to the distinctive gong of the hand hit bell. Lunch hour was most entertaining. I remember this piece of memory where the teacher says "Lets see whose morsel is the biggest!" and I shove an fistful of rice into my mouth and then proceed to grin like an idiot.
Strangely enough, despite the fact that I have pictures of me from that time, I have no recollection of those captured moments. Its as if my child mind grabbed onto those memories- spontaneous and brimming with life, and kept it safe for older me, and the to-be-older-still me. I'm eternally grateful to her.
