Why does anyone sitting thousands of miles away, an accomplished specialist doctor want to write anything about a town that he has not lived in for over 35 years. You may find the answer in why does a Birla care more about Pilani or Tata about Jamshedpur, Palanpuri jains about palanpur, Ambanis care about their home town or an American billionaire, Dr. Kiran Patel care about a village called Chota Popalia in Gujrat. They care about these towns because that's where their roots are. These places give them their moorings. Now I have done nothing for my own town but by writing the stories of its history and past glory, may be can kindle a fire among my childhood friends. Though the city has "progressed" into becoming one of the top industrial hubs in the country, it has brought in its wake an urban squal, a tag of " the world's most polluted city" per WHO. It is time for us to look back and say WE CAN DO BETTER. !!
MY FIRST STORY : TALAB ( the pond)
My first story is about the Talab. The talab at the very entrance to the town stood as a sentry or some may say as a landmark that provided a distinct identity to the town. Brimming and overflowing during rainy season. Emerald green water, Enormous by any standards and with dimensions of a lake. Fed on one end by the legendary Burriah nallah. Talab was so much a part of the lives of people of the city. As kids we would go in the mornings for walks and take balls of atta dough to feed the fish. So many of the children learnt swimming just by jumping into water with truck tyre tubes. As the day heated up, the scenary changed, women from so many homes would descend to the talab to wash clothes. The sound of beating of the "Sota" on the stones at the water's edge. These were the days before running water came to houses. Drinking water was obtained from wells and hand pumps. Women on the east end of town went to the nehar to wash clothes. Professional dhobis would choose a time later in the morning or pick a different spot. Late afternoons would be the time of people bringing their buffaloes and cows for a bath and a drink of water. Late evenings after sunset the breeze would cool down along the water and give people a good respite. One often saw couples, especially newly weds taking an after dinner walk. They would gently talk or just be able to do that minimal of affectionate gesture as holding hands. something that was impossible in joint family set up. During the monsoon period the Talab would invariably overflow. Baarh or flood was an annual feature. As the legend went, in those rainy months with water surging every year there had to be at least one person / adolescent drowning. This then brought into the legend the Barhaai mata whose temple was on the far end of talab. In honour of the devi mata therefore an annual pooja and mela was held. This was a big event for Faridabad of those days. I hear the mela is still on but in a town that's overflowing with people on a regular day, its not the event it used to be. On occasion, we could get some enterprising employees to go hunt for Jalmurgi and make a good meal of it. Talab therefore was so well entwined in the lives of people. I would leave out what happened in the years that followed. 'The breeze and its sound as it hit the Sheesham trees around the talab is still fresh in my mind.
In my next post : The Games we played as children.
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