Flashback

When I see rush hour traffic here in the evening, I think to myself this is nothing compared to India. The screeching, the honking, customers haggling with roadside vendors, the random cows and goats in the roads- compared to India, here, it is very quiet. However, some evenings, when traffic is dreadfully slow, I find myself drifting back to my early childhood years in India.

New Delhi, India. Population: a lot. Seriously, we have a population crisis back there. If you think New York is crowded, you obviously haven't been to New Delhi. There, I lived with my Mummy, Pappa, and Ammachey (grandmother in Malayalam) in a small rented house in the center of the city. Our house was by one of the main roads, and because of this it was often loud and dusty. I suspect my mother had to clean the interior at least twice a day. In the afternoons, the noise level especially increased with people trying to get home for lunch and children in the nearby schools having playtime. The only thing which separated us from the busy intersection was a thin wall, usually plastered with posters of the latest film releases in theaters. 

One of the more vivid memories I have living there is a day I got into huge trouble. As in most evenings, my Pappa had left for work, and my Mummy had just come home from it. They had scheduled their shifts so that one of them was with me and my Ammachey at all times. My parents feel strongly about spending quality time with family. Even to this day, it is like that and those values have rubbed off on me. 

That particular evening, I was riding my tricycle in the little space we had while my Mummy cooked dinner. Ammachey, who was watching me from the porch, called me back in, saying dinner was almost ready. Of course, my three and a half year old self could care less about what was for dinner. I just wanted to have some fun. Besides, Ammachey always cut my tricycle riding short. I wasn't having it this time.

It was at that moment my little eyes spotted a man with red balloons near the school gates on the other side of the intersection. I couldn't possible tell you what was going through my mind at that moment because honestly I don't remember much myself. All I know is I really wanted a balloon. It was like life or death. 

Luckily for me, someone had left the gate open. I rode my tricycle as hard as I could in efforts to get to balloon man. By the time I reached the gate, Ammachey realized I meant business. Seeing as she couldn't run after me because of her frail body, she called for my Mummy, who rushed out of the kitchen.

As my Mummy ran after me, I was no longer interested in the balloon man; rather I was in the thrill of the chase. It was fun! I was so near to the road that I could see all the auto rickshaws, taxis, and bicycles (even bigger than mine) waiting for the traffic officer to let them pass. Thankfully, before I reached the actual street, my mom caught me like a lioness protecting her cub.

That evening, I almost gave my Mummy a heart attack. She still reminds me of that incident to this day, always exaggerating the story....

Mothers. :P

NOTE: This is a flashback in two senses. One this is a memory of my early childhood in India.. Two, I expanded on the memory and wrote it for my Women Writer's class in 12th standard.