Sunday, January 29, 2023

A Place One Would Only Find in Literature.

A friend of mine called me after seeing an old photograph of mine posted on one of the social media platforms to ask whether I remembered the pair of shoes I was wearing.

Yes, it was the fashion then and bought it for Rs15/= and was a darling of many.

How many have borrowed it, we lost count.

He said that he wore it for his Army interviews and one of his other important personal events too, promising to send some pictures of him in those high-heeled boots which unfortunately never occurred hitherto.

Then another day, another friend of mine called me after getting his house prepared for the new year to say that he loved our old house with a few essential pieces of furniture because he was tired of moving, dusting, and sweeping many items scattered in the household that had accumulated over the year and had some sentimental value to him and his wife, but their children did not want to be part of any of those.

Our house in Charles Place was like a boarding house to many outsiders with always a bunch of boys seen on the premises.

They were from different schools, not the school we attended, and from different backgrounds, etc., but they came to spend a few hours of their time there for the pure freedom they enjoyed there.

On rare occasions, we offered them a cup of tea; otherwise, if they were really thirsty, they would pluck a young coconut from one of the two hybrid coconut trees in front of the house.

One thing special about this place was that we never encouraged anyone to engage in any bad activities such as smoking, drinking, etc., and none were attempted.

Sometimes we used to call out names to some pretty girls passing by.

There was one called "Fresh Eggs", "Hockey Sticks", and "Bob Woolmer" to name a few and it was all for fun, I am sure they too must have enjoyed the attention they were getting.

We read, discussed, and even argued on various subjects like Vedanta and quantum physics and the teachings of various religious and political preachers.

And in the end, we were able to expand our own horizons, and almost everyone came to spend some time making a successful life after college, some ending up as university teachers, high-ranking officials of the armed forces, bankers, and various other professionals (lawyers, etc.).

Recently, we were sauntering on those wonderful times during one of our closed family meetings, and my sister-in-law said that many years ago, someone came knocking on the door asking for a place to stay.

When she said that this was a private house and not a boarding house, he was confused and told her that someone had directed him there, saying that the person had seen many young people in this house for many years and it must be a boarding house.

It was never a boarding house in that financial sense, but it was indeed a boarding house with no borders in the literary sense.

All were free to come and go and say anything they wished to say, and it was indeed a place one would only find in literature.

Yet, such a place existed a few decades ago down on Charles Place.





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