Memory Lane

We went to see Nadim’s old neighbourhood today. He wasn’t really sure how to get there but while looking at the map he recognized the name of his old high school. It was actually labelled as a government office, so he wasn’t entirely sure, but we crossed our fingers and hired a rickshaw and the driver said he knew where it was.

Until this point, Nadim hadn’t really recognized anything from Mysore. It had been a bit disappointing because he was hoping it would feel more familiar, but a lot has changed in thirty years, and the memory of a fourteen-year old is not so great. But today was different!

We got to a traffic circle and all of a sudden Nadim was excited. He knew the way to the school and he thought he knew the road to his old house. He remembered playing at the park and having a bicycle accident with his friend just outside it. We stopped first at CFTRI High School where Nadim spent grades eight through ten. It was so fun to see him remember playing soccer in the “field”. This field had no grass and was really just a patch of reddish dusty dirt. He also remembered his classroom and his three pals, a Hindu named Suresh, a Muslim named Irfan, and a Christian named Sharat. Nadim completed the group as a Baha’i. Who says people of different religions can’t get along? They were best friends!

We drove down a few streets looking for Nadim’s old house but couldn’t find it. We thought perhaps it had been replaced by newer homes. So we went in search of the elementary school instead. We found Nirmala Convent School, where Nadim spent grades six and seven and where his brothers started school. He pointed to the steps where the children ate their lunches that were brought by their ayya (house maid) and the other area where the ayyas ate their own lunches while waiting for the children to finish so they could bring the lunch things home again. Hard life! (actually, I think it probably was, despite the ayyas).

On our way back, we were coming along one street as Nadim was describing faint memories of where the road was, and then we spotted a road that fit the description. Nadim wasn’t too hopeful that it was it, but as we turned in the road, slowly memories came back. Sure enough we found his old house. He and his family lived in the bottom apartment while the landlords lived above them. Nadim used to play with the landlord’s son, Satish. Surprisingly Satish stilled lived there. We didn’t get to see him because he was out, but his wife and son were at home and invited us in for a few moments. Nadim recalled playing with Satish in the room we sat in and he recounted a story of how he and Satish had once taken out the powder from five or six atom bomb firecrackers and put it in a piece of paper. Of course they had to light it. He says it didn’t make an explosion, but it did make a very high flame and they came away with singed eyebrows! Satish’s son was quite happy to listen to stories about his father’s mischief!

We took a look around the property. He showed the girls where they used to count when playing hide ‘n’ seek. He showed us where there was a banana tree in the back. There was a garage and an extension that had been built in the area where they used to jump off the short wall down into the sand 2 stories below. The house now has one more level, as another room has been built as a third storey. Nadim came away with such a happy glow with all the memories. It was infectious so we all had happy smiles on our faces on the way back to the Baha’i Centre. The rickshaw driver was laughing too, and we gave him a nice tip and thanked him for the trip down memory lane.

CM