I Miss My Childhood

A day in 1977. It is a breezy weekend morning. The first thought in my mind is - I know it would be there, parked at the side of the blue railings. The kitchen smells of soya bean. Mom has made soya bean milk again. I gulp it down quickly, not finishing it before running out of the house in my long pants and slippers to see the old iron horse. Its body is black and there is a metal seat behind. I push it through the cobbled floor out the main gate. I will it to keep silent as it clatters along reluctantly. My mind is set. My heart is pounding. I could not wait.

It is just me, the old iron horse and the big wide road in front of me. The guava tree whispers to me to 'get on it'. I climb the rickety skeleton but my legs are not long enough. I slip my right leg below the horizontal rib of the old creature. It is awkward and I know my long pants could get caught in the oily gear chains. I did not let it deter me. I throw caution to the wind. I push using my left foot and the creature gives a clang of protest. I keep at it, balancing its head firmly with my hands. It wobbles from side to side. The old creature starts to cooperate and soon, to my exhilaration, my foot gets off the ground. The wind brushes past my face, the creepers and trees on my left seem to laugh, the factory on my right stands morosely watching. I am flying! And all the way towards the workers' canteen, past the office with the blue door and eerie round window, the sloping cargo takeoff point, all the way to the wonderful Indian Gate.

I must have been at it for hours. Or it could have been another morning or evening. Sis is shouting for me to stop. I smile at her and although I have no blinking idea how to do it, I would show her I could since the takeoff was relatively speaking, a piece of cake. I clutch the brakes and as I do so, the old creature slows down. In my mind, I seem to know that at this point of landing, something has to touch the ground and in that moment of revelation, I realise with horror that it has to be my two feet. My left leg comes down efficiently enough. In that frozen moment that my right leg tries to extricate itself from in between the two rigid bars, the old horse starts to go round in circles. Panic swirls in my mind. The crazy beast starts to draw concentric circles in the ground, each smaller than the previous one and before I know it, we collapse in a wretched heap on top of each other. Sis laughs hysterically now.

That moment I learnt to fly with the old iron horse is hard pressed into my mind. One moment of happiness I would never forget.