This rectangular car and bike park, say 60 x 30 feet, is where my boyhood was spent. It is the compound of the building where I grew up. My mother, who is 88 and is a fiercely independent woman, still lives in that building. Not out of loyalty. But because she has a house there. And perhaps because she does not want to be a burden on me. Not while she is up and about still. And has her neighbors for company, the occasional friend who calls on her, and old faithful hawkers who come to the door to fight with. I don’t mind her staying by herself. That’s her space and comfort zone. But I visit her twice or thrice a week. Each time is pure nostalgia.
About the Building
The building is 60 odd years. It has two wings. Five floors each wing. Ground plus four. Nine homes on each floor. Ninety families living in peace and harmony. Everyone’s house opens onto a common passage. Where even today children are not old enough to go down to play floor cricket under their mother’s watchful eye. I did that myself. But then there was the compound for when I came of age. For hundred kids like me growing up together, this compound was the place to unburden our inexhaustible energies every evening. Till our mothers finally called us home for our baths, homework, dinner, and bed. With no TV and no Internet, there was nothing else to do.
Aggressively and noisily, without a complaint from any family, we played every sport in the compound from cricket, hockey, and football to volleyball, kabaddi, and kho-kho. The girls skipped, cycled, played Catch, Hopscotch, and Hide-and-Seek. Also Langadi, Foogadi, and Saat Lagori if I remember their names right. The girls were gentler, but equally voluble and held their own in the small compound. There were parallel bars for older boys and monkey bars with a sliding board for kids. And a flagpole for Republic Day and Independence Day ceremonies. Where the compound ended and the road began, we boys planted trees in the 1970s that are today taller than the building.
But look what’s happened to the compound!
It’s become a car and bike park. Back in the day, only one family in the building had a car. They courteously parked it on the road. But now almost everybody has a car or bike or two. And they park inside because there’s no place on the road. The children of today are more into their books, smartphones, and video games. They don’t care for hearty outdoor activities. Or are too timid to fight for the use of the compound. I asked my mother where do they go to play. She was looking at the treetops swaying in the breeze. Blocking her view. She didn’t know about the children. “But I didn’t see the rainbow this year because of the trees you planted,” she said sadly.
About Mark Manuel
The above thoughts/content has been proudly copied from the wall of Sir Mark Manuel. Being interviewing almost every role model of this country and going stronger each day. Mark Manuel is a respected Mumbai editor, writer, and columnist.
With over three decades of journalism in leading publications. This includes the Free Press Journal, Times, Dainik Bhaskar, Mid-Day, and Afternoon. He is famous for his brilliant pen interviews. He himself is a TEDx speaker.
Further
His interviews have featured in several leading media houses. They include the Hindustan Times, Huffington Post, BBC, and Network 18. Almost every famous person has been interviewed by him. In the country from Mother Teresa to Muhammad Ali. His first book is just out. It’s titled Moryaa Re! It is a crime thriller that is perhaps the country’s first police procedural. He began his career covering crime. And in a tribute to his experience and knowledge of this beat.
Several distinguished officers of the Mumbai Police and its Crime Branch collaborated with him to make this book possible. In a statement of friendship for Mark Manuel and admiration for his work, Amitabh Bachchan wrote the forward.
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