Memories

Mom and I got stuck in the lift on Wednesday evening. We had already reached the ground floor when there was some fluctuation in the voltage and the lift decided to go below the ground level. We remained there for more than 20 minutes. Fellow buildingwalas who wanted to use the lift started coming in and smiled at us through the windows. We smiled and waved back. There was something incredibly funny about being stuck in that void. For one thing, everybody seemed a lot taller (coz we were half-way down, but height is a permanent obsession with me). The second and more important thing was that it was one of those unforgettable Ranchi moments for me. It prompted me to think of a few more. These are not in any chronological order, nor are they all particularly hilarious, but will always mean to me the most indelible memories of the city that I was born in and where I spent the first 17 years of my life.

1. This one has to be the first. Power cuts have always been of a longer duration in Ranchi than power supply. One such power-less, muggy and mosquito-filled night when we were missing Chitrahar, I was standing in the balcony with my elder brother and his friend Manish. I was barely four. At that point of time in our life, power was a commodity essentially regulated by the man in the generator room, meant for the offices and streetlights. The room was separated from our buidling by a maidan. That night, we had had enough and we decided to take things into our own hands. Manish stood in the balcony, cupped his hands and shouted,"Generatorwale light de de." And immediately, the lights came on as did Chitrahar. For quite some time after that, we would often stand in the balcony and shout our lungs out in the foolish hope that the magic would work again.

It never did.

A few years later, Manish died in an accident.

2. This is about the day all of us in the building got (minor) electric shocks. Early in the morning, my mother complained that she had received an electric current while cleaning the washbasin. Within a few minutes, it was the kitchen sink. Then, the slab. Neighbours had received it from their clotheslines, some from their refrigerators, radios and other household appliances. Never having got one in my life, I too ventured into the kitchen and within a few minutes, my nerves had been jangled enough. All of us gathered in the corridors; an electrician was summoned and an hour or so later, we were told that there had been an 'earthing' problem. Phew!

3. We were the first ones in our colony to get a private telephone line in 1992 (what a historic year that was!) Till then, all important information related to births, deaths and marriages was conveyed to everybody in the buidling through Doctor Uncle's phone. Since he was a doctor, he had been provided a company phone. Sometimes, of course, we would go all the way up to the GPO to make STD calls.

Anyway, as soon as we got our phone, our neighbours decided that they had taken enough favours from the doctor and now it was our turn. One day, when I returned from school, I saw a call bell on a switchboard inside our house. I pressed it out of the curiosity and it started ringing three floors down- on the ground floor. Mom came running out and informed me that Suri uncle had got the bell installed so that each time their relatives called long-distance, we just had to press the bell. Of course, since we were power-less most of the time, we had a lot of stair-climbing to do.

4. Water was not as much of a luxury as power was, but it had its days. Tankers would come to our place. All of us kids would queue up with buckets and have a lot of fun, splashing the rationed water around.

5. A couple of weeks after I was done with my Class X exams, S called to ask if I would join H and him for a quiz. V and A were my usual quizzing partners, but I decided to go anyway. The quiz ended around lunch-time- we came second, I think. It was open to everyone so my brother was also there along with his college friends. The prize distribution was in the evening. I called up mom and asked her to pick us up in the evening. H and S went off to the latter's place nearby and my brother wnet off with his friends. I was sitting alone when two of my brother's female classmates came up to me. They introduced themselves as Abha and Rohini and we got talking. Abha, then, took us to her place for tea. As soon as I reached there, I realised that my chums had started and then began the great search for a sanitary napkin.

I, of course, didn't have any. Abha's mother was out and she had locked the cupboard that stocked the napkins. I had no money and they didn't have enough to buy a new pack, which used to cost more a decade back than it does now. So we headed out onto the streets, wondering what to do. I was raving and ranting. Abha decided to take me to the Mecon hospital. We went into the casualty. To ask for a napkin. No, they didn't have any. We were then directed to a stack of gauze and cotton by one of the nurses. I was confused and stopped short of telling them that I wanted a napkin, not raw material for a stuffed toy. Within a few minutes, however, Rohini managed to fashion it into something useable. I don't know if I ever thanked her enough.

6. Anthony sir taught us geography. He had a fun style of teaching. The Tropic of Cancer passes through a place called Tagore Hill in Ranchi. He wouldn't say that directly. Instead, he would dramatically narrate, "Children, yesterday, one of your seniors went on a picnic to Tagore Hill and started digging there for the Tropic of Cancer. After half an hour, he found a piece of wire and cam erunning to tell us he had found it." Almost as if on cue, we would all laugh. And the lesson had been learnt.

7. Saturdays were LPG cylinder days. A truck would arrive with hundreds of cylinders and we would all queue up for hours before that. Since it was my day off from school, I would take the empty cylinder and a piece of chalk with which we would distinguish our cylinders and head for the queue. On days when there was no chalk, we would used old rakhis for identification. Sometimes, whem mom or dad took forever to replace me, I would sit on the cyliner and read Nancy Drew.

8. Rekha Sahay (ever heard of her?) used to act in Circus those days. She also happened to be the wife of Jharkhand politician Subodh Kant Sahay, who was the I & B minister then.

One fine day, she came to our colony to campaign for him. A huge crowd gathered to see her and moved around with her as she delivered speeches. I joined them too. Everyone was taking her autograph. I had neither pen nor paper and I was barely tall enough to reach her waist. I handed her a paper with her hubby dearest's poll manifesto which she refused to autograph. Someone from the crowd took pity on me and handed me a piece of blank paper. She signed it: Love, Rekha Sahay. That's the only autograph I have taken in my life.