life's a kick

  The village Chaandi was nowhere like its name in appearance. The Indian village, situated in a remote corner in one of its poorest states, translated literally to ‘silver’. Its fiscal status, however, did not make it any lesser for siblings Rashmi, Rahul, and Rama, all of 10, 8, and 7 respectively. For them, Chaandi was not just silver, it was the gold of their annual vacations. They came here every year with their parents, for this is where their paternal grandparents lived. The excitement would begin much before the journey did. They’d save money and buy their stockpile for months in advance. Jam-centred Jim-Jam biscuits, candies which could stand the sweltering heat of Indian topical summer, and the chief favourite of all - Cigarette shaped toffees. The toffees were bought with equal contribution and rationed out with exact accuracy. In their 36 hour train journey and two months of village stay, the trio would mimic smoking adults in all ways possible. Each trying to outdo...

“Auntie, where did you learn swimming?” Standing at the shallow end of the swimming pool, I was vigorously shaking my head to get rid of the water in my ears when this girl, around 10, approached me. “Sorry? You said something?” “Yes auntie. Where did you learn swimming?” “Umm…in a swimming pool in Dwarka.” “How long did you take to learn all the strokes you do. Especially butterfly?” “I took long. Almost two full seasons. Breathing and butterfly took the longest.” “So they taught you all the strokes there?” Asked the mother of this girl, inching closer, who was hitherto standing a few feet away. Her curiosity was piqued by now. On her shoulder clung her younger daughter. I had an audience of three. “My girls admire you. The way you swim non-stop. And also your butterfly and diving. So we wanted to find out about your trainer,” the mum added. “Beta, introduce yourself,” she chided her older daughter who looked at me with zero interest in personal introduc...

Soul Sentinels “ Shiv bhaiyya, aur kitna chalna hai ?” Baby’s voice echoes through the forest. A strident sun shines on her damp face. Sweat runs in rivulets down her collar bones. Other trekkers halt, exhausted. They look at each other. Consensus is established that Baby looks sexier when she’s sweating. Shiv, our trek-guide, doesn’t consider her cry stop-worthy; not even a head-turn-worthy. He moves on with an impassive face, motioning us to follow suit. “Chalo, chalo,” he shouts with irreverence. As though he’s herding sheep. Baby curses under her breath and drags her feet again. Other members of B-204 wonder if she’s cursing at Shiv or them. We are in Himachal, and trekking on the Pir Panjal range, towards Chanderkhani Pass. We have started the trek from Naggar camp, at around 5800 feet above the sea level, and aim to climb upto 12,000 feet in 3 days. It’s the first day and we’re already steeped in self doubts. The terrain is between steep and very steep. The sun is me...