In 1988 a lot of people were doing a lot of things a lot of other people didn't understand. Love-ins, Be-ins, Happenings" It was...different. It was weird. But where we lived, things were still pretty much normal. It was a typical middle class locality with the Dads went to work in a Chartered Bus with a tiffin box, the Moms spent time cooking, cleaning, chatting up other Moms and calling us off the playgrounds, us kids went to school, came back, played like mad and waited for load shedding. There was only DD to depend on. The “World this week” and “Yeh Jo Hai Zindegi” on Fridays, the Spiderman and Rajni on Saturdays and the Hindi movie on Sundays. There was this community feeling all around. We did everything together.
The Golf Green B Block was like one happy family, well with exceptions like the Chakrabortys of B5, the Roys (Khuchro Buro) of DT, the Kapoors of B9. But they made the community more exciting to live in. Sunday afternoons was when they all got together the ladies out on a walk discussing recipes, gossip, results. The Dads donned in their “Battik print” Panjabi settled at one corner discussing politics, community development, taxes and maybe Debonair magazines. Us playing or biking, overall presented the perfect picture that made “Family First” the 80s tagline. Events were few but well participated – The Pujas, Holi, and Birthday Parties. Summer Vacations.
It was the biggest of them all, the last day of school. It was kind of a solemn moment. Six months of relentless education were finally erupting in a blast of summer madness. Yep, you could feel it in the air. Hope, potential, freedom, .. who knew what the summer breeze might bring! Yep, I could still feel it now. The wind in our faces, the football matches, the picnics (in someone’s terrace). What I loved about summer vacations was that it always seemed to rekindle this wonderful sense of community-togetherness It was also the right time to explore unchartered territories. Swarm, sweat and swear at imaginary World Cup Cricket matches happening at the B Block playing field in front of 60,000 imaginary screaming fans, a slight look from the girls who used to walk around the field giggling to themselves – which would amplify the power of the bat swing or the speed of the bowler. I remember fancying myself as an ace bowler, tried to ape Wasim Akram (who was also quite popular with the girls those days). All these years later my pride and psyche received a nuclear bolt when a friend recently said I bowled like Bruce Reid (Arrrrgh).
Cricket those days were characterized by Indo-Pak rivalry. We had our very own Indo-Pak right there on the B Block (well if we were not shoved out by the seniors) field. The Pak captain was a certain Madan Mohan (went by the name of swing, why? There were various theories). Well we had seen fighting spectators at the Indo-Pak matches. But here every match was always followed by the 2 captains rolling on the ground fisting, pulling and abusing. This would make the next day’s match even more exciting. War plans were drawn on the back page of the Maths copy book. Players bought and sold over Chewing Gums, Post Cards with Pics of Cricket Gods. Well this was serious business and with the girls looking it made the games a matter of life and death. Now one event changed all that.
Arghya (name changed) one day came and announced his experience whence he saw Mrs. Chakravorty changing her clothes every evening at 6 PM. He detailed us on the absolutely new terrains which we were unaware of – Women’s Underwear. Arghya even asked us not to peep. Not to Peep! After what we heard was like telling a pack of wolves to stay away from red meat. Suddenly the cricket world Cup lost its TRP. India and Pakistan teams teamed up on terraces with folding binoculars to experience the spectacle.
Instinctively, we went to the terrace first thing the next evening. Nervous, sweaty, hushed we went up on the terraces wherever we could for this spectacle. Me accompanied by Madan Mohan. I had known him since he was 8 and never before had I seen that kind of fire in his eyes. He made me steal my father’s binocs. This was going too far. I was a pervert, not a felon. It's hard to know just how it happened but suddenly at that moment with an intensity that no one in that terrace had previously thought possible, 13 and a half years of pent up impotent sexuality became potent! Scared or No Well, there was no turning back now. We were here. The moment stretched out so unbearably I thought we'd both explode! Well, you gotta give Madan credit for spotting! And what spectacle it was. It was like tornados... or flash electrical fires. Or fate! That was it. Fate. Maybe I knew even before it happened...that I...had an appointment with destiny. But destiny has many faces or at times bodies. She was one.
My first experience with voyeur. By the end of that summer of 1988 a lot of things had changed. Terrorists kill nine tourists on Aegean cruise. Benazir Bhutto, first Islamic woman prime minister, chosen to lead Pakistan. Bihar earthquake. And we had our very own uprising. Well later someone had squealed to her about Arghya’s activity and Arghya was the hunted man. He stayed out of circulation the rest of the summer. Rest of us were keeping this a tight secret. The Chakravortys moved away next summer. But they had given us something that would be a part of the rest of our lives.
In the game of life few things are absolutely certain. In fact most things are left to chance. It a matter of trial, error, and pure dumb luck. And of course, Fate. But one thing I learnt that the best part of having a friend is knowing someone really understands you and shared more than just the laughs and Chewing Gum. We shared confidences. In 1988, people tried so hard to find themselves. Sometimes they got lost. Sometimes they found their way home again.
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