The Whistleblower

Getting up at 5AM on a Monday morning is not the best situation to be in for a seven year old, for any seven year old if you ask me.I am thirteen now and when I sit down to jot one of the earliest memories of my life, all I can recall are the sights, sounds and smells of those times.

The sight of Ma scolding me for not waking up on time, her face would turn a shade of crimson ,a dangerous contrast to the serenity of the dreamy blue just a few minutes before. The sound of her voice menacingly piercing my brain, wracking every corner – something similar to the treatment Tom gets from Jerry. Crash , boom , bang,aah – are some sounds I ll never forget ever in my life.

And then the smell of cream biscuits, yes they do have a smell, bourbon has a distinct smell than that of ParleG,which I don’t like much because it does not have any cream, not to forget the drinking chocolate smell, it also left a mark on my life….and my school shirts!

It was one of those dreadful days, that the teacher announced "please start reading on your own" and gave some silly story called Jack and Jill. I found it silly back then, and I still do now – I mean why go up the hill to fetch a pail of water ? Why cant you just stick to drinking chocolate or maybe get some tap water.Anyways,I hated it, and so did my best friends, Pinky,Ronu,Kukku, Mickey and Monik.

As every morning in my life, Ma walked into the room early and announced ‘Its time to get up and read, how long will you sleep?’

‘I am awake Ma’ I replied gingerly.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Reading.’

‘Reading…what?’ she asked after a pause.

‘Jack and Jill because teacher asked to me read it today and also read in class.’

‘Why are you inside the blanket then – your eyes will get spoilt’

‘Naah I am comfortable like this - its too cold outside.

'Ok then do as you wish - and I will have to give these cream biscuits to Papa'.

I sprang out of the bed,and lunged for the treasure leaving Batman unattended,uncovered,unprotected.

The first local train of the morning blew its whistle in the background as Ma looked at me right in the eye.....

Gyanban Thoughts: A memoir from the eyes of a 13 year old.Some memories will never go away no matter how old we grow or how mature we become.These are the building blocks of our "nostalgia" castle which we keep visiting in the twilight years of our lives.