1980s
Our family vacation draws to a close . We have four hours left to catch the train back home. We decide to wait in a park. There is a woman selling tender coconuts outside the gates. As I play with my cousins on the slide, we are joined by her kids. Merry, energetic and giddy with boisterous mirth, they make terrific playmates.
My mother and aunt lay out the packed lunch in a shaded spot and summon us to eat. As we race to the makeshift picnic table, our playmates join us. The ladies hand us the loaded paper plates to be passed around, automatically giving us a few extra , which we spontaneously offer to our new-found friends. Their eyes light up. I joke and laugh with them over a delicious meal, unconsciously forming an indelible memory of a simple but profoundly delightful experience.
2020s
We are a group of neighbours strolling around a park, as our children run about and play. As we sit down for a rest, our kids take a break and come running to us for a snack.
One of the ladies in the group is accompanied by her maid's eldest daughter as a sitter for her children. As the lady opens a packet of chips for her toddler, another child in the group leaves his mother's side and eagerly comes forward to claim a portion of it. The toddler shakes his head and hugs the packet firmly to his chest.
The attraction of the chips having increased manifold by this impediment towards procuring it, the urge to snatch and possess the packet against all odds having surpassed even the temptation to eat its contents, the other child forcefully tries to pry the toddler's clutched fingers open with one hand while tugging at the packet with the other hand. This leads to an emotionally charged tug of war and fills the air with screams that are evidently deemed too unearthly or predatory by all the birds, squirrels and monkeys around, and they flee the place.
The toddler's mother, after having tried to stop this in vain, loses patience, puts her foot down and throws such a yell in their direction, at such a pitch, that only bats could hear if it should get any higher, and the kids' screams begin to seem mellifluous in comparison. Peace is restored. Our ears stop ringing. The mother proceeds to instruct the toddler that "sharing is caring" and by means of a blood curdling glare, forces him to agree that it is right to share his food before eating.
But here's the catch. The toddler's mind, being pure and untarnished by adulthood, innocently assumes that universal goodwill is the natural corollary of this new rule set down by his mother. And so, after reluctantly doling out a handful of chips and a juice box to his former opponent and a couple of the other kids - who have been standing by, hoping to witness another wrestling episode - he now proceeds to do the same with his sitter. His mother quickly arrests his hand saying "not her" and diverts it towards another child. It is only now that the poor toddler comes to understand that there is apparently a vital appendix to his mother's rule, and the message gets successfully delivered to his brain - "sharing is caring.. as long as you take care to share with people of equal social status".
A notion which, as the child grows, will undoubtedly be reinforced everytime he watches his mother buying expensive birthday gifts for his friends, but crying herself hoarse haggling over a small amount of money with vegetable vendors, auto drivers, flower vendors and other workers who toil everyday to make it through the month.
He will have no opportunity to realise that his mother is eager to heap favours on those who do not even want them, and unwilling to help people who actually need them.
His classmates and friends will already have several of every species of anything that can possibly be owned by a kid, they will not even remember which gift was given by which friend, and they will probably not even attach any sense of gratitude or emotional value to these presents by considering the act of receiving a token of affection from a person as a priceless gesture. The impoverished, on the other hand, will remember and bless one forever in return for the smallest act of kindness.
The message will be further cemented and engraved in the child's mind when he witnesses his parents spending hundreds on cups of lattes and frappés in airports and malls without giving it a second thought, but taking their time hesitating and holding serious conferences to weigh the pros and cons before deciding to give a little something towards the relief of their domestic help who happens to be in distressed circumstances..
(As an aside, personally, I am prepared to give money in exchange for not drinking some of those ridiculously priced beverages which are not even remotely palatable - I have, in the past, made the mistake of trying a few of them advertised to taste like they arrived straight from Mr. Tim Hortons's kitchen, but in fact, tasted like diluted Bournvita.)
Sometime in the early 90s
A sunny afternoon. I am playing 'paandi' (hopscotch) with my friends on the quiet street beyond the gates of our apartments. The manager of a prominent celebrity will not be able to plan or handle the complicated and tight schedule for our day of play more efficiently than us. We have everything neatly strategized, making sure not one minute is wasted in anything other than games, excepting the meal times which is under parental control.
The next in our itinerary is 'train-train', where we enact the entire process of travelling. The nice little 'motor-room' inside the premises of our flat being of just the right height (not too easily accessible, yet not wholly unattainable, giving us the additional thrill of climbing up to its low, smooth, white paint coated roof that has a permanent sheen from reflected sunlight or moonlight) serves as our train compartment. In fact, it has an assured meaty role in all our "plays", sometimes as classroom, sometimes as a hotel, a temple, a clinic.. the list is endless.
As our little procession is marching solemnly towards this sacred place, it is hailed by three children, strangers to us, two of them just moved into the neighborhood, and the third, their cousin. We are introduced, and we immediately invite them to join us as a matter of course.
Being highly skilled organizers, we are undaunted by this sudden expansion of our playgroup. We give the new kids the roles of 'ticket collector', 'rogue passenger' and 'vada vendor'. Our play commences straightaway, and our day just got even better with the new addition..
Sometime in 2021
My friend has just moved into her new apartment inside a gated community. She is anxious for her son to have the company of other children of his age group, as she is worried that the sudden change of house and school may be too overwhelming for him.
The next weekend, as she is arranging things in her balcony, she observes many children playing in the lawn downstairs. She loses no time in taking her son to the play area. The son, feeling a little timid, is hesitant to approach the other kids. So my friend promises to sit on a bench nearby instead of returning upstairs.
She watches as her son goes up to the others and asks to join in. At first, they do not pay him any attention. When he persists, they throw a glance at him, but continue playing amongst themselves, ignoring him. Discouraged, he returns to his mother and asks to leave.
His mother, thinking a little parental intervention may help, insists on taking him back. She picks out the oldest looking kid in the group and introduces herself and her son, and asks him if her son can join them. The boy replies "No, Aunty, he doesn't belong to our gang".
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What stained the fabric of time along the way?