Once Upon a Time When I was a Child

I remember a time long ago, when I was a small girl, we lived in a house somewhere in the hills. It was a small town, everyone walked everywhere, well just about everywhere. I walked to school every morning. The morning began around dawn and as the sun was rising from behind the far away purple mountains, I was usually at my old fashioned dresser, brushing my hair, enjoying how the sun caught the lighter tints in hair and eyes. Beyond my window was the roof of the veranda and parrots sat squawking on the red tiles while usually a honeycomb hung from the eaves.
On week days there was little time to enjoy all this as school was a long walk away and I would be in a hurry to leave. There were many paths that went to school, mostly through neighbouring houses which had two gates, so I entered through the front one and went out the back, saving a long walk. Neighbours turned a blind eye if one trespassed through their gardens. My favourite was the house closest to us, the main house was quite decrepit but there were tenants in the other houses on the side. There was a parijat tree here, the parijat is a tiny white flower with an orange centre and an intoxicating fragrance. The tree would shed its flowers in the night and early in the morning there would be a fragrant carpet of fresh dewy flowers, for me to walk on. That is an unforgettable memory as never again have I smelled such sweet smelling boquet from a parijat again. The servants lived in an outhouse close to the back gate and went about their chores turning a blind eye to a trespassing young school girl, sometimes they would even smile at me.

There was one particular shortcut that went through an open veranda of a neighbouring house, if I took it then good manners required greetings and an exchange of a few words.

I disliked routine even as a kid, the same old path each day was an unattractive proposition. Though many times I did take the plain old road, for along the road lived other friends and as each one joined me the group grew more loquacious and lively and before we knew it we were on dark lane, the lane lined on two sides by tall and wide banyan trees. The hanging adventitious roots of the banyan trees always invite the passing child to swing on them. I always found this lane quite exciting, like something straight out of a story book; a place of mystery where something had happened or was about to happen. This lane ended close to the school compound and before we knew it we were at school.