When growing up, the paddy fields in front of our house were an integral part of our lives. There must've been about 10 acres of them all, split among many owners and into many pieces stretching between our stream on one side and the railway track on the other. There were at least 4 ponds in between all except one drying in the summer.
The onset of monsoon meant that the fields would be out of bounds for us for some months but we had other things to look forward to. The ploughing would start off the proceedings and soon the tiny saplings would be everywhere making the whole area look like green velvet carpet. Then would be the time to pluck them and plant them again in bunches. That would be a grand affair for us - Appi, Janaki and other ladies from nearby would all be there singing "O Bele O Bele"(I used to remember some more lines), pulling each other's leg, having small fights,teasing us and in general having fun and making us happy.
The fields were our shortcut to reach BCR via the railway track and in rainy season we had to navigate both the muddy red stream and the slippery banks of the fields to reach there. While crossing the fast-flowing stream was a welcome adventure to us, the fields weren't an easy task either. Adding to the sliminess of the path, since the usage was low in the rainy season, the touch-me-nots would be all over the place, toads would jump from nowhere putting us off-balance and the slippers would get stuck in the mud if not tread carefully. Soon this would pass and the plants would grow high, green and milky rice seeds would pop out and slowly the plants and the seeds would turn yellow. This would be the time we all waited for. The moment one of the fields got cleared, we would barge in there in the evenings with our badminton rackets, mothers in tow. There would be other games too, like run and catch, hide and seek, with the uncut rice plants offering a very useful cover. Of course when we return home after all the fun, the whole body would itch badly and I would have to swallow mother's reprimands as she applies coconut oil on my back. But it was irresistible; we would be at it again the next day.
There was only one problem though. Some of the fields were just below Convent, a girls high school with hostel for students coming from far and boarding for the Sisters. This was the school where all of us went in due time and the present and future students didn't want to create an impression of being too naughty on the teachers. So even in the middle of all our prancing and playing, one eye would be steadily kept on the landscape above and if any human shape appeared there, our noise levels would drop to whispers. Badminton would be played very seriously until and unless the person happened to be only a fellow student and we were assured that no Sister was in sight. Occasionally even a Sister would appear and rarely she would get into pleasantries and even rarer, would throw some rose apples grown on the premises.
There is a sad end to this happy story. If you go to that place now, you wouldn't be able to recognise it a bit. Half the fields have been converted into areacnut plantation and the at the other end, you have a sawmill. The remaining area is already a famous place of worship. Why? One of the ponds that I mentioned was 'discovered' to be miraculous a couple of years ago; it seems its water contains healing powers and devotees have been pouring in to worship 'Vanadurga'. So that's the end of the story!!
The onset of monsoon meant that the fields would be out of bounds for us for some months but we had other things to look forward to. The ploughing would start off the proceedings and soon the tiny saplings would be everywhere making the whole area look like green velvet carpet. Then would be the time to pluck them and plant them again in bunches. That would be a grand affair for us - Appi, Janaki and other ladies from nearby would all be there singing "O Bele O Bele"(I used to remember some more lines), pulling each other's leg, having small fights,teasing us and in general having fun and making us happy.
The fields were our shortcut to reach BCR via the railway track and in rainy season we had to navigate both the muddy red stream and the slippery banks of the fields to reach there. While crossing the fast-flowing stream was a welcome adventure to us, the fields weren't an easy task either. Adding to the sliminess of the path, since the usage was low in the rainy season, the touch-me-nots would be all over the place, toads would jump from nowhere putting us off-balance and the slippers would get stuck in the mud if not tread carefully. Soon this would pass and the plants would grow high, green and milky rice seeds would pop out and slowly the plants and the seeds would turn yellow. This would be the time we all waited for. The moment one of the fields got cleared, we would barge in there in the evenings with our badminton rackets, mothers in tow. There would be other games too, like run and catch, hide and seek, with the uncut rice plants offering a very useful cover. Of course when we return home after all the fun, the whole body would itch badly and I would have to swallow mother's reprimands as she applies coconut oil on my back. But it was irresistible; we would be at it again the next day.
There was only one problem though. Some of the fields were just below Convent, a girls high school with hostel for students coming from far and boarding for the Sisters. This was the school where all of us went in due time and the present and future students didn't want to create an impression of being too naughty on the teachers. So even in the middle of all our prancing and playing, one eye would be steadily kept on the landscape above and if any human shape appeared there, our noise levels would drop to whispers. Badminton would be played very seriously until and unless the person happened to be only a fellow student and we were assured that no Sister was in sight. Occasionally even a Sister would appear and rarely she would get into pleasantries and even rarer, would throw some rose apples grown on the premises.
There is a sad end to this happy story. If you go to that place now, you wouldn't be able to recognise it a bit. Half the fields have been converted into areacnut plantation and the at the other end, you have a sawmill. The remaining area is already a famous place of worship. Why? One of the ponds that I mentioned was 'discovered' to be miraculous a couple of years ago; it seems its water contains healing powers and devotees have been pouring in to worship 'Vanadurga'. So that's the end of the story!!
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