C for Childhood, C for C. R. Park

I was only six months old, when my family shifted to C. R. Park.  Since then a lot has changed for me except for one constant - C. R. Park. 

One fine morning when I was five, my parents scrubbed me pink and dressed me in a sky-blue cotton frock. While Ma complained endlessly trying to comb through my tangled mess, Baba gifted me a shiny tin box filled with colourful books, notebooks, pencil and a small-round-green-plastic tiffin box. Almost overnight my transformation from a pampered ill-mannered kid to a disciplined school going one was complete.

School was MCD Primary School at B Block, Chittaranjan Park. Compared to today's standard, it was indeed a strange one. There were practically two schools running parallely within one school.   One  with bengali teachers (Jyoti Didimoni, Kalyani Didimoni and Shefali Didimoni) meant for bengali students and the other one with non-bengali teachers for non-bengali students. We called them - 'Hindi school'. 

A small building with an asbestos sheet rooftop and just three classrooms  was insufficient for housing five classes comprising of two sections each. In the later years, when students grew in numbers, we ended up studying in tents, lobbies and sometimes even under a tree within the school complex. 

There was a toilet of sort which was unisex in nature with no 'He' / 'She' concept in place.  Moreover it was perpetually dirty due to lack of water connection inside the toilet.  For me, the most interesting place was the hand pump installed right at the middle of the school. Since I was not strong enough to pump water, senior students often helped me out. Well!! Suffice it to say, I never mastered the art of drinking water straight from the pump as every drinking session ended up with me looking like a wet cat.  

Outside the school gates, a bunch of hawkers used to sell many magical goodies such as sweet tamarind or churan wrapped in pink plastic pipes. They also used to sell one pipe-like thing through which you can blow air.  It was yellow in colour and looked like a hollow mutton bone. Even though hardly five or ten paise each, we could only afford it after days of careful savings.

Everyday,  I used to walk from F block to B Block to reach the school. Mornings, I used to walk with Baba till 1st market where he had a small tailoring shop. Rest of the way to school, I used to walk alone without fear. The road behind main road Raisina school was full of thorny bushes.  It was also home for few construction workers. For a five year old, this is where 'Chele-dhora' preys on unsuspecting school kids. So, on my way back home I used to avoid that road at all cost.

Main road was a fun road. Hand-in-hand with my friends, I used to walk right at the middle of the road, aware of each and every bus timing.  Private vehicles were few and far between so it was not even an irritant let alone pose a threat to our safety. Sometimes, we used to take a circuitous road back through J, I and H block, plundering the gardens of unsuspecting siesta-loving bengalis. There was a shatoot tree right at the middle of the old 2nd market. During season time, it used to be laden with juicy blackish/purplish shatoot, tempting and beckoning us for a handful. Unmindful of 'loke ki bolbe' we used to climb the tree in search of hidden gems, creating quite a ruckus in the process.

Parks, rocky and barren, were mostly covered with thorny bushes.  So naturally, it was frequented by kids while elders gave it a wide berth. Whether it was football or cricket, pitthu or pala - kids, from the locality, explored every park and played every game without elderly interruptions. We even invented new rules while playing 'gully' cricket.  Throwing a bouncer is a no-ball, one tip-one hand was a catch-out and many more.  Rules were designed with the sole aim of safeguarding neighbour's window panes.  

Nowadays, when I take a leisurely stroll through this very neighbourhood, I get surprised by the many changes that has taken place since then. The old school building is now replaced by a respectable looking double-storied building.  Road behind Raisina school is now full with cars of K-1 residents. Shrinking road, vanishing footpaths, double sided parking and heavy traffic is not suitable for taking a walk. Vanishing private gardens are making way for swankier houses and large underground reservoirs. Trees, restricted by designer-concrete footpath, look forlorn and worried before every storm. Parks look like an overdressed ornamental bride while kids increasingly prefer playing no further than their own verandah. 'Chele-dhora', a mere child's imagination, is now an ugly reality.

Inspite of all that, I can't think of a home away from C. R. Park, such is the charm of this locality.

*****Shukla Banik*****