Sour Grapes

My story-III -

It is said that the signs of a personality are shown in the childhood itself, It is absolutely true. As I am right now, I having the habit of voluntarily offering to any cause that might help other person in distress. I do not just doubt anybody’s intentions sometimes, and invite trouble. Nevertheless , this habit of mine is die-hard one. I am narrating this story which I think was a nasty one in my early childhood days, may be it could be one of the first of this kind ,where I had invited some trouble on my own , which was worth more than a slap or two, for voluntary help extended to some ‘friends’ ( you may call them so) I can not call them ‘strangers’ all to gather, after all they had allowed me to play with them was a very kind gesture to me. What more can a kid think of ? Off course the voluntary service if indeed an act which is thankless and mostly go unrewarded.

My memories flashback take me to the time of my childhood in beautiful city of South India ,which has now grownup to be a prominent metropolitan city of India. It was the a urban area ,situated on the out skirts of main city area in Bangalore I lived there with my family. As usually, I use to play with the kids of the locality. One or two were just known to me other were not known to me . They were obviously elder than me may be of 15 years or more , at that time I must have been half their age ,of 6-7 yrs. Nor did they belong to our school may be they were in some other school. I was then studying in Central School ,in the Air Force Area I remember. They were just familiar with our faces so we were just casual friends in a way . As when ever our parents used to search for us they easily could tell them about us.

Adjacent to the colony there was a very large vacant ground. I generally used to play with my friend of same age group .I loved to play marbles or ride tricycle or play with foot ball. Comparatively it was a safe place in terms of traffic or other problems. So the parents never had any apprehension of any trouble to their kids ,so parents did allow us to play. Off course at that times there were no modern day hustle of bikes and cars. Those were days of simplicity. People had limited resources. So were the kids , they were very humble and used to share their properties. To make better of the situation. Now days mostly kids are possessive and non cooperative. Their parents now can afford to buy lot of toys for each one. So the kids now do not share their goodies.

There was a typical problem at that time. Kids did not had many options or choice either, they were made to bear the resources crunch. It was time we witnessed, that parents used to bring clothes in bulk of single colour and print. All the siblings “irrespective of sex or age ”were provided clothes of same print, one could easily identify the “Company” to which kids belonged to, from the colour and print of the cloth. These clothes used to be our trademark. Since it was common site so nobody had any grudge . We were simply happy as we used to get some pair of clothes.

Those were the days of November or probably December. I am not sure about. It was afternoon on a sunny day .It was Sunday or may be some holiday, as we all were playing in the playground. I was taking ride on a tricycle ,along with my friend. Some of the boys were flying kites,some were playing football some playing marbles , some other kids were running a race in different part of the ground . We were moving on the side lines in the playground ,playing safe . Enjoying the sight of the other games, all free of cost , there was no commercialization of sports, at that time. It was something sort of Commonwealth Games going on in the Playground at a time ,sans Kalmadi and company of New Delhi 2010 fame , thank god.

We were at that time resting for a while munching some candies , enjoying the games other children were playing there .We saw an interesting competition going on in the skies. Some lads were flying the kites at the edge of the play ground, they were challenging the other kids to dare to cut down their Kites. Small group of on looker children including me were cheering their favorite kite . The elder boys were in control of the whole gamut. Kites were flying very high , giving a beautiful sight to watch.

Children have great fascination for such things. I was no exception. The kite flyers were having big reels of the strings of kite, which their junior assistants used to carry in their both hands giving the control of the strings of the kite to the main player . Some times the kite-flyer was pulling the strings so vigorously and shouting at his assistants to collect the string on the reel as soon as possible otherwise the string will get entangled and will be useless . I had picked up bits of information of the games from the local lads who were familiar with it , I was told that ,the strings was called as “Doori” or “manjha” ( we call it in ‘Punjab’ in North India) I also started to use the vocabulary .The strings were special as they were having coating of some hard material, People paste grounded pieces of glass over the string , this coated strings were of various colors and need careful handling otherwise it could snap your fingers.

I witnessed the combat of kites in the sky over the ground where we were playing. It looked similar to the ‘Dog Fighting’ of jet planes of Air Force doing the exercise in the sky. During that time a kite was snapped of the string by the other opponent. There went the wave of jeers ,this winner boy was flying a Red and white colored kite . The wining team was very excited and now was ready to take on the other opponent in the sky he then challenged the other boy indecently my friend was supporting the boys flying a big blue and yellow colored kite .I also joined in as my friend was there. We started to cheer up the boy flying a blue and yellow colored kite . As the boy used to live near to my friends house, so he was quite familiar to my friend. This prompted us to be his fan . The competition continued for some time and arguments started to hot up. The supporters of both kite flyers were creating a hype and tense moments were seen . The pleasant wind was blowing and making the kite flying more enjoyable. Some other kites of different colors also joined in the tussle . Sky was like a beautiful canvas, dotted by the colorful kites.

At that place there were some kite snatchers group active with their tools to snap the flying kites off and they used to grab it after snapping . They used a simple tool ,tying a stone to the long string ‘manjha’ at one end the other end usually was with the kite snatchers. The modus oprndi was the stone tied string is thrown over the string ‘manjha’ of the flying kite. The string is then pulled down strongly this could snap off the string of the kite this is a interceptive weapon . These ‘ Kite pirates’ were always on the prowl. They would often bully the kite owners.

The sight was very exciting , we were enjoying the game. Then suddenly the group, which I and my friend was supporting ,went tizzy and their faces turned pale, they had now lost the control over the blue and yellow kite their team was flying , the string of the kite was snapped by the kite of red and white colour and the kite was now losing the height. The wind was strong and all our members as well as the opponent team were running towards the direction where the ‘Kati Patang’ ( snapped kite ) was heading because it was now being drifting away due to the current of the wind. After a long chase the guys who were chasing to grab the kite were disappointed . The kite had entered a big farm land .It had a fence all around. Actually it was a grape wine yard laden with half ripe grapes .

The children stopped with curious greedy eyes fixed on the falling kite. But their efforts went in vain. The kite struck somewhere in the farm good distance from the fence , where the big boys were not able to reach by any means. The group of children were trying all sort of the tricks to reach at the ‘booty; string of the kite. Everyone failed in their attempts. After a lot of brain storming by the guys there , it was decided to enter the farm by making way through the fencing. The big guys were reluctant to enter the farm.

Since the scene was bit tense ,as all efforts were not bearing any results. Someone in the crowd asked will someone try to go inside the farm. I stood up and boldly accepted the challenge. Thinking ,obviously that will be a good opportunity to prove my sincerity to the group ,and they will make me their friend. I offered that I will execute the mission to bring back the lost ‘honour’ of the group. Every one there started clapping and cheered me. I felt like a ‘Hero’, a commando preparing for an operation in a enemy territory . I was made to enter through a little opening made by twisting and pulling the barbered wire. The guys standing out side the fence were speechless and nervous. I did not had the feel of any sort. I was however moving with confident steps to the area where the kite had crashed. I was fascinated by the green roof of the grape vines leaves The grape vines were supported by some wire net at a good height giving an look of a green verandah . These vines were having green grapes bunches hanging down, though they , were they ripe or not I did not know . I had never got any opportunity to see such scene earlier. I looked at the fruit with astonishment and enjoying the beauty of the nature. The boys behind me peeping from the other side of the fence , they were making signals and giving instructions in hushed tones, guiding me towards the spot I had to reach. I quietly headed to that place it was abut 15 to 20 yards inside the fence . There at that spot I saw the string of the kite hanging down. I gently tried to pull the string of the kite at that time the boys standing outside the farm started to shout in joy. It seemed that I had pulled the curtain of the theater play rather than string of the fallen kite. Strange events unfolded thereafter.

Their excitement cries invited a new problem for me ,I was unaware about it ,until I was confronted by it. The shouts of the kids had alerted the watchman ,who was moving near this place. I was wondering why the kids standing out suddenly went silent . Before I could know what had happened ,he just appeared in front of me like a ‘Gin of Alladin’ from nowhere . I was trapped ,He took hold of me by the collar ,slapping me couple of times. He held me like a chicken . I started to cry in pain . All my efforts to show my innocence went futile. I was frighten by the angry red eyes and a rough hand waiting for punching me . He then plucked two bunch of grapes and put it in my pocket. He then called out if any one was there . There was no one. Everyone who were standing outside the fence had fled from the scene .

He asked me in a harsh tone “ what is your name?”

I said “ I am ……….”. I looked like Micky mouse.

He again asked rudely ,“What is your father’s name?”

To which I honestly replied “….is my father”

“You have come here to steal grapes ,did’t you ?”.

I said “ No, No , it is not true. I had come here to pickup the fallen kite.” Pointing towards the kite.

He was not impressed and dragged me out of the farm heading towards the colony where we were living . We were now heading towards my home. The watchman on the way asked someone about my identity. The person pointed towards our home. That person asked “what’s the matter? Why are you dragging him like that ?” The watchman said “ He had entered the farm to pluck the grapes, he had caught me red handed”.

There I saw some of the street kids were walking behind us, they were enjoying the sight and making nasty comments, moving in a procession as if I was some big criminal arrested by the police.

I was presented before my parents .Unfortunately , my father was in home at that time. The case was presented before the ‘ jury’ by the watchman showing the evidences of ‘grapes bunches’ , which he had put into my pocket deliberately to prove his point . This was enough for my father to infuriate him . I was not questioned by father , but his heavy hands did the duty of the punishing the ‘culprit’, without even establishing the offence. However I was already crying while in custody of watchman . No one in the crowd was believing me , not even my family members. It was like the police handling the routine cases. All who were there were saying something against me. It is clear they were at least not praising my act of bravery atleast . Nobody had any sympathy with me rather every one standing there was making mockery of me. I felt the heat of insult . I was a laughing stock for all. Luckily one of my uncles (friend of my father ) came and ask me the facts. I told him that I did not go there for plucking the grapes ,and that I had entered the farm only to bring the fallen kite of our friends. In fact I was not at all having the height to pluck the grapes I was also not aware about the grapes were there ,when I had entered the farm . This fact was then confirmed from other kids who were playing there at the spot and were witness to the incident . My father also realized that he had just reacted in spur of moment and in haste. He did not crosschecked the facts. Actually he felt embarrassed at the sight of people in front of his home. He felt sorry about it. My friend then came and confirmed about this incident , he said that everybody there ran away on seeing the watchman, I was left all alone and he had nothing he could do for me..

I was wondering why the other boys were reluctant to enter the farm. They probably knew that the Farm had watchman always there ., as they were afraid of being caught .This fact was not in my knowledge. I had suffered this all due to my innocence. This is how I paid for voluntary service an act of bravery , probably my first of that kind.

I mustered strength to bear the insult I was meted out at the hands of the clever watchman in his effort to eulogize his sincerity and dutifulness. But indeed there was a big grudge in my mind that I was not even given a single pcs. Of the “grapes” to taste, which were alleged to have been plucked by me and that the watchman had planted in my pocket- ‘as the booty’ or theft you may like to say. I was told by my parents that they were sour- why did you pluck them.? Now I realize that the grapes were indeed sour.