Thursday, March 4, 2010

TEDDY BEAR TEDDY BEAR, OFF TO SCHOOL


My two teddy-bear-cubs (my daughters) go to school in a big yellow school-bus. In fact, when the younger one went to play-school, which was just around the corner, she refused to accept that it was a PROPER SCHOOL. Because there was no sunny yellow school bus full of bright, chattering children to take her there.


Neither had we. We went to school in a rickety cycle-rickshaw. Our school-special rickshaw was value-added with a narrow wooden bench tied carefully to the back of the driver's seat. This way, it could carry many more children than it would have done unadorned! The rickshaw can carry two people in relative - if rather bumpy - comfort. With the added bench, it was made to carry 7-8 children. I've tried to re-create the engineering in my mind, but the mind BOGGLES (I'm currently immersed in the world of Jeeves, so I just had to put in that word) at the effort.


Our rickshaw-driver an affable gent called, for some unfathomable reason, Jamaibabu (son-in-law). Every morning, at around eight, the punctual Jamaibabu would come ponk-ponking the rickshaw horn at our gate. Rushing out, my brother and I would hop on to the coir-cushioned back-rest-ed seats. As our house was the first place Jamaibabu halted at, it was rather easy for us to get the best seats, which we ruthlessly refused to move away from, even if the others requested.


Jamaibabu pulled the rickshaw - with the familiar kaanch-konch sound of the three wheels turning - along the winding lanes, halting at other houses and picking up...Dipto and Rumni from their mansion with the flower-fragrant garden, Bapi from the dilapidated rented house, another very formal-looking child (whom we called Mr Gon, because he carried a tin suitcase with MR. S. GON printed on it; he was always late as his mother pleaded and pestered him to finish his glass of milk), and my cousin J and her brother.


The seats filled up fast and we sat face-to-face, three in the original rickshaw seat and five clinging like limpets to the narrow wooden bench. Knees knocked together and bags knocked over others' as Jamaibabu hit the pedal hard (we always blamed the tardy Mr Gon and his hapless mother for this). Fights sometimes erupted, but even without arguing, our decibel level was pretty high. The genial Jamaibabu would sometimes turn his head to admonish us, making the rickshaw wobble scarily. The kaanch-konch of the wheels increased as the rickshaw bumped and bounced its way to Modern School like an overloaded ark full of chattering, chirpy children. Although Jamaibabu had probably never heard of time-management, we were almost never late.


And in the afternoon, the rickshaw would return, bursting at the seams with rather exhausted but still noisy children. Bagging seats was a free-for-all, and getting a good seat (which somehow was more important on the return journey, maybe our tender bottoms were sore after all that sitting around) meant making a dash from the school-gate to the waiting rickshaw. As Jamaibabu shooed us on and hustle-pedalled his way home, the discomfort became negligible in the delight of chatter-boxing!


HOW DID YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

8 comments:

Hobo ........ ........ ........ said...

Rickshaw always but the wooden bench was behind the rickshaw-puller seat And the capacity of the seats were 7 I guess. But those were the days And bags behind the rickshaw hanging. During school days two subjects were always remembered And that was:
1. Tiffin-box 90% always left at school
2. School-Bag 50% chances left at school.
But if I remember correctly most of the times next day both were found.
Those were the befikra

元氣 said...

欣賞是一種美德~回應是最大的支持^^........................................

seana said...

I have nothing to compare to the rickshaw school bus. You really have come along at a transition point in history, with jamaibabu on one hand and Modern School on the other.

The only time I rode a school bus was in fifth and sixth grade in Colorado. I don't remember much of incident, but there was one point when I became a crossing guard. I happened to wear my official belt on the way home and the bus driver, who was having trouble with the kids, offered to pay me to keep order. The idea of me as the enforcer completely freaked me out. Luckily it was abandoned quickly.

Lazyani said...

I had one Gulab da as the pilot of the rickety Rickshaw to school. He was our guardian en route and was always on time. There were 5 of us in the rickshaw all belonging to a different class, as the primary section had 5 levels.
On one hand we aspired to grow up to the high school level(read school bus level) and on on the other we enjoyed the fun of the rickshaw ride

Aleta said...

I love how you describe things. I felt as though I was riding on the rickshaw of your memories!

Most of the time Dad would drive us to the school. He dropped off Mom to her school first, because teachers had early schedules, then he would drop my brother and I off.... and we would cringe.... Dad LOVED to roll down the windows of the car right before we pulled up into the school and he would sing these silly songs that he made up. I think he did this every day, just to see our reactions. We groaned about it back then, but I love the memories now :)

shulagna said...

Recollected those days !! By the way jamai babu is still there !!

ya said...

Conversation makes one what he is.........................................

Sucharita Sarkar said...

Thanks for taking us to school with you!