Shillong always has that special place in my heart. Every time I even hear its name, my eyes sparkle and I move back in time, to the place with the bluest of the blue skies where I grew up to understand life before moving out to other places. Going there now is like living a dream.
This sleepy little town of North East India has given me my first memories that though feels like a dream now, but are so real and solid.
Reminiscing about my childhood in Shillong can fill volumes for sure and I'd still not be satiated..
I remember walking up and downhill the streets of this town in the mornings holding Koka's (grandpa) hand while he took me to my playschool (Brookside Adventist school) and I was always late and while coming back he always bought me a corncob which I ate with so much fascination... I remember him asking me about my day and most importantly if I had finished my tiffin coz otherwise Aaita (grandma) would scold us both. I remember, at 3 years, my class with some fifteen kids, all crying and clamouring while I sat in a corner near the window silently as I didn't understand one word of the khasi language. I remember passing by a playground (fire brigade football field) where people were always loudly cheering some guys who were always running behind a ball. I didn't know about football back then..
I remember taking old wooden buses that looked like trucks from the front with Aaita to Burrabazar to buy fresh vegetables and specially kwaai (areca nuts) and watch her bargaining with the kongs till they would come to a settlement.. I remember walking back a thousand steps with nylon shopping bags filled with eatables to see our wooden house with hundreds of rose shrubs, a huge verandah, and a newly fixed iron gate..
I remember riding my red tricycle in full speed in that verandah when Aaita was trying to feed me and toppling down and hurting myself. I remember running down 50 or more steps down our home to that natural spring to play with paper boats that my Mahi used to fold for me while taking a break from her studies.. I remember playing with my red plastic kitchen set that my mother brought me from Guwahati and serving tea to everyone in those tiny red cups.
I remember taking black and yellow Fiat taxis with Koka to police bazaar to buy jilapis from Delhi Mistan and Koka urging me to say thank you to the driver every time when we got down. I remember the harsh cold winter mornings when Koka used to wake me up around 4 am and saying "uth Pochi uth, bol furibo jaau" (wake up Panchi, let's go for a morning walk) and I jumping out of the bed and holding his hand ready to go out!
I remember crying to my Mahi, Jethai, and mama every now and then to take me to lady Hydari park or Ward's lake in the evening just to see people lying in the lawns and doing nothing. I remember ditching my siesta every Friday to eagerly wait for my mother coming home from Guwahati to meet us while soaking the sweet Shillongiya sun with Aaita.
Shillong has always been a good memory. I've spent the first five years of my life there with my grandparents in a beautiful wooden house waiting for my mother to come home excitedly from Guwahati where she was busy working hard so that she could secure my future. Leaving that place, that cozy wooden home with the largest porch and coming to Guwahati with mom to start my school had been the hardest thing I had to do as a child. I could never go back to that house again and everyone shifted to Assam after a few years leaving the child in me confused and sad that I'd never get back my large bed with Koka Aaita with a big window from where I always welcomed the sunrise, the dressing table where I used to adore myself wearing Aaita's vermilion and Mahi's lipsticks the big dining table in the kitchen under which was my perfect hiding place when I didn't want to sleep at night.
Now you know why Shillong is and will always be my place..
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