The Fishing Rod

I said, "No, mum. Please do not use it. I had taken a lot of trouble to get it."
It had been a wonderful looking bamboo pole; just perfect in every sense; the look, the feel and the lightness. Not too big and it had the right proportion from top to end.
She was shocked by all the fuss and she gave in. If it had been used to dry clothes, fish would never come near the bait.

The five of us really believed in some taboo. If the fishing rods were used to dry clothes, it would be bad luck. We could never get any fish even with the best baits; earthworms, prawns, flour paste and even insects. That was why I had to hide the pole away from mischievous hands.

During the holidays, the five of us had walked all the way to a forest reserve to find the perfect bamboo poles. We managed to find the cluster of bamboo growing lushly in the middle of the forest reserve. We took the risk to climb over a fence to get into the place. Just to remind you, the place is a forest reserve. That means ordinary people are not allowed to enter it. There was and still there is the big green notice warning the public not to tresspass the area. Otherwise the public will be prosecuted.

The five of us were excited and totally delighted to see the lush green bamboo growing there. We selected the best, the longest, the perfect ones for the purpose. Guna as usual was the strongest and the most skillful in using the parang or long knife. He carefully chopped the base of the selected bamboo plant. We helped him to pull it away after that. We were also quite prepared with old cloth to hold and pull the bamboo plants because there were torns and fur that would cause a terrible itch. Carefully, we placed the five selected poles on the ground. Next, Gopal took over the task. He carefully, trimmed away the leaves and the torns. Of course he did it by holding the poles with cloth to prevent any injury.

The bamboo poles were also really sharp so we had to be very careful. Gopal really did a good job of trimming the edges to prevent accidental cuts.

Happily, we carried our own fishing rods or rather bamboo poles and walked home. We totally forgot we were in a restricted zone. Anyway, we did not meet any officers or wardens or people from the authority.

Upon reaching home we cleared the remaining bits of torns and edges and left them to dry under the blazing sun. It took nearly two weeks to see the golden brown fishing rods; our precious possession. We were really proud of the result. Indeed we should because we had taken all the trouble to get them.
She had asked, "Where did you get it from?"
I answered, "Oh, from some forest reserve nearby."
"When did you cut it?" she inquired again.
I answered meekly not wanting to scare her. "Some time during the last holidays."
Mother let me off with a warning. "It's dangerous to go to the forest. Next time don't do it again, okay?"
With a relief I answered, "Yes, mum."

A Fishing We Shall Go

I remembered clearly going to a pool and not getting any fish after a couple of hours waiting patiently there.
Thaila said, "okay, let's vote. Majority wins."
So all the five put in our votes by a show of hands. It was three for and two against the idea. I was for it anyway.
I asked, "When shall we go?"
Gopal answered, "Why not now? It's still early. What time is it now?"
I said, "Let me take a look."
The old grandfather clock in my house was also the only clock that everyone in the village referred to whenever my neighbours wanted to know the time of the day. Come to think of it, I have always wondered why my neighbours had \never bothered to get a clock for themselves. Maybe it was not necessary to them. In those days we had to wind the clocks every week and it was not a delightful job. Only my grandfather and father would wind it up. I was not allowed to touch it for fear of destroying it.
"Hey, it's only half past one. Better go now before it gets late." I suggested.
So saying we returned to our houses and came out again, each with a fishing rod in the hands. It was always a ready at hand tool as we each had one as a necessity. A bamboo pole with a line and a hook at the end. There was also a float made from apiece of cork cut from an old bottle stopper. The fishing pole would be placed at the back of our houses; against the kitchen wall away from mischievous hands. Quite precious though; it was not to be touched by others. We believed that if someone else touched it, we would not be able to get any fish. My mother had one tried to use it to put out her clothes to dry and I had protested angrily.