Life's flavor lost!

Growing up has, like every other happenings in life, its pros and cons. I remember the thrill I used to get in doing very trivial activities when I was young, many of those activities which I do no more, and looking back, very often it seems silly and pure waste of time when I ponder them over.

When I was in class II or III (also in the higher classes), book cricket was a craze. We used to pick the thickest book from our book-list and use it to score runs in plentitude. In school, as I was a back-bencher, playing this game was never a problem with friends, unless and until the teacher specifically asked me questions. But here again, my height was my saviour, because I was, and have been, the shortest person in my class, and hence, was unnoticed most of the time.

But when at home, I faced a problem. It was customary to read aloud so that my mother could hear what I was reading (she was my teacher then). On the other hand, I had already started a cricket tournament in the last period at school which I need to finish up! So my only option was to recall some poems or prose and recite them, and simultaneously turning pages of the book and keep record of the runs scored. During the entire time, I had to keep guessing my mother's movements, and getting a slightest hint of her approaching my study-table, I used to hide my "scorebook" below my "bat" (the thick book I mean), and open the thick book! Often the timing was wrong and I got caught, and scolded, sometimes beaten up , specially before exams. When I think of it, it seems very funny and childish now, but then, it was a matter of severe importance!

Swallowing a thriller, hiding it below an academic book, was very thrilling itself! Here also, I had to keep track whether or not Mother was nearby, although I had mastered the art so finely, that I hardly got caught.

As I entered college, I caught up with the vice of smoking, and I still remember the excitement I had when I smoked at home for the first time, in the presence of my parents. They were watching a Bengali serial, and on the pretence of study, I locked myself in my room and started to smoke! I had to finish the cigarette before the commercial break, because who knows, during the break, I may attract the attention of my parents, who would certainly be surprised seeing me so enthusiastic about reading, and summon me! Practice makes a man perfect, and gradually I got hold of the timing and accuracy I needed to carry on with my secret vice.

Here, being 10,000 miles away from home, I have the liberty of doing these things, and many others, freely and without worrying of being caught. But still, sometimes I miss the pure thrill, fun and the feeling of breaking a rule that were attached with these mischieves! It is like losing a certain flavor, which I had adored so much in my childhood and adulthood.