I was, then, in stick limbs, burnt skin. But uncommonly alert, bright and resilient lad. I could tell. And I had a handful of friends-all alike me. Unkempt. Rowdy. Lilliputians. In their company, I used to huff and puff around my village, causing constant troubles to villagers especially young girls. And I would return home only when hungry. Say what you like about a notorious lad-and I had all.
You would never guess how much allergic I was to taking bath. As much as dogs hate it, ha-ha. My hands and knees were always dirt stained. All blames put on marbles. I would be playing marbles, oftentimes. And you know what? I had learned a correct way to strike marbles. I’ll show you how. I would close my left eyes and my right eye aiming at marbles in a ring. My right knee bent, left one on dusty ground (for balance), a swift kiss for luck and then strike to knock marbles. Wow, I had won a boomer jar full of it. My coveted achievement though.
Now, I know, you must be wondering what my parents had been doing? I’ll tell you, my parents gave birth to 13 children. I’m the youngest son. That’s why they couldn’t, at all, give care for us. Of 13 siblings, two died-one from untreated malaria and another from evil spirit. But unfortunately both died home, not in BHU or hospital.
And those days, you don’t know how much fascination I held for watching video. Ajay Devgun in his side pungs and damnless looks. Sunil Shetty, for his bulging biceps. Akshay Kumar, for his sexy voice and flying kick. I was also equally fascinated by Rambo‘s guns and Superman’s costume. My room’s walls papered with post cards of these stars. Also my auto books.