My family shifted to Delhi when my father was appointed a Scientist at the National Physical Laboratory. We began living in a rented house at East Patel Nagar. Thus began our life in Delhi of the early sixties.
Today, almost six decades later, I continue to live in Delhi. In fact, I am domiciled in Delhi now, though my family is originally from Kerala.
My elder sister and I were just children then. We found life in Delhi very different from the life we had led in Secunderabad. In Secunderabad we were amidst family and friends and everything was familiar.
In Delhi, the houses seemed strange, the people seemed strange, the streets, the food and the smells also seemed strange.
Soon we got admission in a good school nearby. Some of the children from the neighbourhood were also in that school. We walked to and from school together and became friends and playmates.
My sister and I spent a lot of our free time in our balcony. It was our window to the outside world. We looked around and soaked in the sights and sounds.
I remember the neem trees that lined our lane. Their flowers were whitish and inconspicuous. Yet their delicate scent filled the air in the summers.
In contrast, today Delhi has avenues lined with ‘amaltas ‘(golden laburnum), gulmohar and bottle brush trees. Their flowers set the city ablaze with colour.
One day we noticed that the house across the lane was buzzing with activity. A tent was put up and chairs and tables were arranged inside. We were told that a young woman there was getting married.
At night the house was illuminated and guests gathered. Suddenly a band began playing and the bridegroom was ushered in. He was atop a white horse and his face was masked with strings of flowers.
We were witnessing a North Indian wedding for the first time. We could not take our eyes off the gorgeously dressed women and children. The blaring music and the dancing mesmerized us.
In those days girls (including us) were overtly fond of dolls. Some of our new friends wanted to have some fun with their dolls. So they decided to marry their dolls and enact a proper wedding.
The girl doll’s family got busy dressing the ‘bride’ in bridal finery. She was made to sit in a pram as everyone awaited the ‘barat’ or the groom’s troupe. As the marriage procession went down the street amused adults and children gathered as spectators.
The couple was helped to exchange garlands and then declared married. We were proud members of the bridal party and thoroughly enjoyed the unforgettable experience. It was a novel way of entertainment. We had no television, computers or i-Pads in those days!
Every day we heard the call and chants of vendors, hawkers, jugglers, acrobats, cobblers etc. advertising their wares and their skills.
The ‘madari’ (monkey trainer) made an occasional appearance. With the beat of his ‘damru’ (drum) and his loud voice he announced his presence and the whole vicinity would come alive.
Magically the children would be out in the streets or in their balconies as if the Pied Piper of Hamelin had come to town. The monkeys dressed in pretty clothes would dance to the beat of the damru. Finally they held out their hands for money.
When we heard the twang of heavy strings we realized that the cotton beater was around. His customers would give him their quilts and he would take out the matted and hardened cotton in the quilts and fluff them up. He worked with a strange long kind of an appliance.
When we were not in our balcony or studying we would be playing games. Tippy Tippy Tap, Sitting Cook, Four Stones, Seven Stones, Statue, Hide and Seek were the games we played with our friends.
After a year we shifted to the first quarter that was allotted to my father. It was part of a larger complex and was at Hillside Road. It was a bachelor’s suite with just two rooms, a verandah, a balcony, a kitchen and a bathroom cum toilet.
We felt there was ample room for a family of four. It was sparsely furnished. We had no access to a television or advertisements that said ‘ give me more’ or ‘give me the best’. So we were content. Greed and pleasure did not propel people in those days.
In fact a much older cousin and her family came and stayed with us during Christmas holidays. We had a wonderful time of interaction and sharing.
Delhi of the early sixties was quite different. It was a blend of the urban and the rural. It had wide open spaces and was interspaced with villages. It had and still has a forest area within the city called the Delhi Ridge area.
Our quarters were close to the ridge area. Plenty of mongoose and jackals from there strayed into our places. The jackals regularly howled after the skies darkened.
Our school shifted to a newly constructed building near the Pusa Road Ridge. During morning assembly we stood at attention in the lawn while millipedes crept up our legs. On a rainy day the corridors would be full of crushed millipedes ugh! How I hated it.
In the afternoon, while we waited for our school bus we would wander around. We would chase butterflies and look for ‘ber’ (a kind of berry) in the thickets. It was fascinating.
In our new house our balcony was once again a point of contact with the people around us. Our eyes always scanned the surroundings for interesting happenings. The juggi colony or slum cluster across Hillside Road was always a vibrant place. Most of them were very poor. One family though did not seem so poor.
They had a larger hut and it was made of wood. Their sons went to school every day. They caught our attention because the husband and wife often had loud verbal fights. At the end of it the wife would disappear.
The man, who seemed to be a carpenter, would then knock down his house with a hammer. Sometimes he wailed loudly. What was amusing and interesting was that the house was reconstructed within two days and everything would be back to normal.
Our neighbour was a South Indian like us. He also had two daughters and his family got on well with us. My mother had an ice cream pail which was a mechanical ice cream maker. It had two containers. The outer container which was a wooden pail was filled with ice while the inner aluminium container was filled with flavored and sweetened milk.
The inner container was then churned mechanically by turning a handle. My mother and aunty took turns churning the milk. After much churning the milk turned into ice cream. It was a delicious treat for us all! None of us had a fridge. So this became a monthly exercise to the delight of us children. We enjoyed the togetherness and the trips to the nearby ice seller.
There were times when some locals mimicked our language and mocked us. Some were very crude and boorish. However there were very good people too.
Only sometimes my strict father took me along when he went shopping. Whenever we visited the vegetable shop, the fruit shop and the egg seller I was puzzled to see them showing favours to him. In time I learnt that respect begets respect.
Even though they were not well placed or educated he talked kindly and respectfully. He never ordered or talked roughly. They appreciated it and brought out things which they hid behind the shelves for him.
Fast foods were rare in those days. My mother bought samosas for us from a nearby shop. My father said no to cold drinks and ice creams. However he treated us to Keventers milk when we went to Karol Bagh and to choley bature at the Vij restaurant near our church. Only once a year though.
Life was indeed very different in Delhi of the early sixties. There was simplicity and there was time to listen and to care. Today we are just rushing on.
Just as a car comes to a standstill after a collision, our world is at a standstill due to the corona virus outbreak. Time to cherish the old days and time to simplify things rather than complicate them. Time to remember that we should not be guided by greed and success as we move forward.
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Hello!!
I am Rubitah, a former social worker turned content writer and blogger. Over the years through my profession and personal life, I have realized that love and prayers can do wonders to a family life, once you come to terms with your own self and surrender to God. Do you relate to me? Then I’m sure you would like what I post here. Read more
Wow, it looks like something different in sixties. Thanks for sharing information.
Doesn’t it? Thanks for visiting Arvind!