My flatmates were doing everything bit harder to wake me up. And yes I got up finally. I first reminded the last night's last peep - "planned to watch a movie by 1am, twitted too". Apparently in seconds drowsy waves let me surrendered to sleep.
Somehow we got tea packed in a poly bag. The most difficult task was awaited here to pour tea into glasses. This is well known at our abode that I can pour anything perfectly, even there are times when Celso says - 'stop amplifying your history.'
While rolling good morning OCB, I was tripping for how come I am good in pouring ✄
Childhood spent in hill’s and of course I feel proud to be born and brought up there, however, social and economical struggles were hard. Luckily, I have one photo clicked of my village for what I am more than happy to post. Years back, following home rules as by morning 6am my father’s sweet shout from the next room - ‘wake up son’, if ignored then I swear so many times it had turned in abuses - "uthta hai ya nahi Bantiyaaa". That loud voice had had scared me, and not that much bother to pay emotionally sweet things.
Apparently dairy farming is still top survival activity in our hills, in fact worldwide in those areas which fall under agricultural zone. I clicked this photo of our calf last year, looks pretty cute! Isn't I am true? If you have been to a rustic place where you own huge land and only you are responsible to mange you and your family with the available resources and some cash which eventually you get from your fixed works.
We had cattle and small farming in village and still everyone contributes own part there to run accordingly. There was always so much extra work burden before you go to school in morning. I admired physically hard work challenges like irrigating field from bucket water, dropping water to cattle shed, cattle ranching, brooming yards and so many other work related to farming...Oh god..sheer hard work.
After getting done with all the assigned farming and cattle work in the early morning then was the time to get ready for school. First setting 10 ponds school backpack and carrying along with 5 liters milk cane in each hand and ready to hike some mountains with that much load. It was really painful. Here I really do not want to talk about my backache from poor posture, carrying overloaded bag and leading a sedentary, unhealthy lifestyle but for sure I want to talk about the aggravation and ache after carrying the milk cans with thin wire handle. Jesus! I can feel that palm ache anytime after closing my eyes and going back in the past. Being from a small farmer family is not an easy task to even phrase your dream. It just move ahead by taking hierarchy responsibilities upon.
My school was located in the nearest city i.e. Bhowali and the total distance was 3-4km from our village. First need to cross 1.5km village trail which ultimately
all surrounded by cool breeze, the fallen pine leaves had made the trail even softer and once you reach the city road, you'll be amazed for sure. Aha, I can remember the taste when I eventually stepped on the city road, such a proud feeling. Traffic, honking and civilized city people, those all were my fantasy to live around. I used to reach city loaded with my schools bag and milk canes each day and please remember one thing that in village what poor children do - 'they wear their school dress only either to school or to market'. After crossing uphill it was always sweating because have had loved to run. I and brother made so many records of reaching early across the places.
Once entering in the city then time to knock the doors of some houses who were our customers. And, from inside a sound accompanied every day -"who?" and Me(loud voice) - ‘Dudh’(milk). And then the door will get opened and I take out my one small 1 lt jug and measuring out milk without wasting it. First pouring into jug then pouring into their utensil and delivering it safely. Then again heading to next house and repeating the same thing *pouring*poring*pouring*. When done with this delivery work had had a *victory* feeling. Unfortunately, hiking hills with holding milk canes made from thin wire injured my palm so many time. I used to show it to my mother and her answers always comes from eyes rather than words. I always go silent after getting my mother’s answer especially if communicated from eyes because you dare not to scratch wound deep.
Why should not I laugh when I listen the word "blister"? When I jumped to class 6 apparently got some responsibilities too. I have had faced so many ugly situations and limitless pains which won't come on blog I know that. Believe me when someone talks about palmistry or something related then I just think for my palm and my childhood *milk*pouring**thin-wire-handle*
To be continued...