Sunday, November 24, 2024
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Silence . . .

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By Ananya S Guha

There was a time when I could cross the main road in front of my house in Shillong almost blind fold. Then there was a quietude in the air that one could just amble across from the gate of my house to the other side of the road. Very little cars, one or two buses ambling along with their chimney like tops and no pollution of any sort. The air was as clean as it could be. And far away in the distance the hills could be seen standing upright, monolithic. Such a view one could get from my house situated bang on the main road. There were hardly any shops around except for a bakery and one or two confectionery shops. Yes there was a restaurant where sweets were sold. They were showcased on the glassy exterior right at its entrance. We would rush to buy some, whenever visitors came, and clandestinely I would take my fair share of it depending on the number of guests. Even Don Bosco Church was clearly visible from the windows of my house. Especially in the evenings it showed itself beautifully in a cresence of colours.

One day as a child I excitedly spotted my father’s car lumbering through the Don Bosco main road and that was a discovery which I kept to myself in a spirit of animation. Roughly knowing the time when my father would appear after doing a round of his patients (he was a Doctor) I would at regular intervals attempt to spot the vehicle, a gauche Vanguard which ran very well and of course it was British in origin. Nothing ‘foreign’ could be legitimately questioned. I would do this exercise in order to discover how long I could get away from studies and play truant.

But on Sundays it was more exciting. Cricket was the only game I could somehow play. I could wield the bat and some of my friends described me as a stylish left hander. I could swing my hand with the ball a bit but my throws to the wicket keeper hardly reached him. Football and Hockey were abominations and I could not understand why as Bernard Shaw said people would chase a bag of wind. Hockey was too dexterous but I admired both footballers and hockey players for possessing attributes which I obviously did not! This admiration was reflected in my fanaticism for these two games as I meticulously followed all national and international events regarding these games.

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