THE FISHING TRIP

What Ravi Saw

2010-02-20T04:51:00.000-08:00

Out of the blue Ravi and it was always him that gave us the fright. We jumped and shouted. He shrieked and screamed in a terrified manner. He screamed, "AH…. There! On the tree! Look!… Look!… A GHOST…"
That was the signal we had been waiting for to sprint again. Without looking back we ran the two hundred metres across the dreaded cemetery like the wind. As we were doing so, I thought I heard the laughter; a chilly and uncanny laughter coming from the direction Ravi had mentioned earlier. Was it a joke; my imagination or just one of us laughing in fear? Up till today I still cannot explain. I did not dare to ask my buddies until we were safely out of the place.
We were panting and hissing and it took quite a while before we could gather enough courage to ask one another what it was all about.
Guna said in between breadth, " Hey, what happened? What did you see?"
Ravi also in exhaustion said, "Oh, very scary. I saw a figure; a ghost on a tree. A dark thing sitting on a tree."
Gopal interrupted, "Yes, I also saw something. It was waving its hand at me. Did you see it, Koong?
I replied softly, "No, but I thought I heard something, a laughter, a terrible laughter."
I then asked the other four if anyone of them had heard the strange and uncanny laughter.
"Me too. I also heard that. A terrible laughter." Thaila added.
That was the last straw. Gopal finally said, "No more. I'm not coming here again; never again."
All of us agreed by nodding. We then promised never to venture into that area again even if it was the shortest possible route. Once bitten, twice shy.

Better go home, guys!

2010-02-17T05:19:00.001-08:00

Guna said, "Hey, guys, let's throw all the rest of the worms into the pond. Why must we waste the food? Maybe if we come again the next time, they will remember us."
"Good idea," we said.
So we dumped all the remaining worms into the pond as quickly as possible because back in our minds there was only one fear; the thought of going all the way back home by crossing the cemetery.
Ghosts. Spirits of the dead. Shadows. Dark shapes. Strange noises and all the things of the night! We had to cross the dreaded path to get home.
Hurriedly we walked; at first in brisk walking steps, then to a jog and finally into a sprint. We were not shouting but a kind of whisper because we were really scared. Getting nearer to the cemetery, we were exhausted. We could not run any more. So we slowed to a walk; huddled close together. No one dared to be left behind or near to the tombstones.
It was so silent that we could hear the other's heart beat. Doom! Doom! Doom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Sweat flowed freely down our backs and our hands. We did not realise the weight of the fish on the reeds. We had completely forgotten about those poor fish dangling there. It was the fear that had all of us transfixed.
The fear now was not one would feel sitting at home and watching a really scary movie but one of real terrifying sensation embedded in us. We walked slowly in a group all huddled up; not one brave enough to walk near the tombstones. Although it was dark, the moon and the stars provided a little illumination to guide us. We could still make out the strange shapes that were distinct in graveyards; the tombstones. Once in a while a breeze brought a nice fragrance of flowers; or was it. We were expecting for a sound or something to appear or to spring out. There was none. Only our ears were pricked for anything strange.

CHANGE OF LUCK

2009-09-13T01:50:00.000-07:00

Gopal whispered excitedly, “Hey, hey, look. The float is moving.”
Sure enough, his float bobbled up and down at first slowly and then quite violently. Must be a big one. Pull it up. Pull it up. Our thoughts must have been the same.
Gopal pulled up his line eagerly. At the end of his line was a big fish, a tilapia. In those days few people caught such fish and ate them, as they were common and cheap. They were meant as food for the chicken. They were abundant in mining pools and rivers. They tasted of mud and soil as they live in such places.
Now they are a delicacy and quite expensive though. They are not caught from rivers or ponds but reared in special cages; high-tech fish farming, they now call it.
My line was still in the water; its floating peacefully. Suddenly it started moving, so were the others. Gopal was right all the while. We should not have doubted him all along.
Hauling up the lines was such fun now. Fishes of all sizes were hauled up. Some big, some medium and some really small ones. Each time a small one was hauled up, we laughed and teased the fisher. Soon each of us had about three or four fish. The problem now was how to keep them alive. We had not expected so many of them and so we did not bring a long any nets or baskets.
Thaila had a brilliant idea. It was to be a standard idea used by many-experienced angler. There were reeds growing on the surface of the pond. We pulled one and made a knot at one end. We inserted the sharper end through the gills of the fish and out through the mouths of the fish. Then we placed the reeds of fish into the water. In this way the fish were kept alive in the water until it was time to go home. They could not escape and therefore could not inform the other fish; we believed. Wow! An idea was born due to necessity.
Even with the noise, laughter, shouts of delight. And the sound of footsteps running around, the fish kept coming at the baits. Removing the fish from the hooks and putting new worms as baits were carried out in precision.
Soon each of us has four stings of fish. Each string contained eight fish. Only then did we realise that the sun had already set. It was quite dark. I guessed it was about eight o'clock. Without any delay, we hauled up our reeds of fish and carried our fishing rods to go home.

Disappointment - No fish

2009-08-06T05:55:00.000-07:00

That was the cue to get back to our business of fishing. The sun was still bright as ever. It was hot. I guessed it was about four o'clock. In those days none of us had a watch as there was no actual need for it. We were quite good and accurate at estimating the time during the day by looking at the shadows of trees and homes.
The floats on our lines did not move and this meant that the fish did not take the baits. Strange! came up with a logical explanation. He explained, “Look, the sun is so hot. So is the water. The surface must be hot but not the bottom. It must be cool down there. The fish would rather stay there, right?”
He added, “Be patient. Give it some more time. When the air is cooler, I’m sure we would get some fish.”
So we waited patiently. We kept very quiet because we did not want to frighten any of the fish and hoping that our luck would be better. Minutes passed and soon the sun was dipping slowly over the hills. Our patience was wearing thin. Gopal must be joking; fishing here and not a single bite. Could it be that the fish here are the spirits of the dead from the graveyard? Maybe so! That was why they knew we were waiting for them. All sorts of crazy questions ran through our minds. We were discussing all the possible reasons quietly.
The sun dipped further and Ravi and I were about to pull up our lines.

Through The Graveyard Part 2

2009-07-29T07:51:00.001-07:00

“The pond! The pond!” We shouted as we hurried to a tall and shady tree; an excellent spot to rest and fish. Even Ravi had a wide grin on his face. The tranquility and peace of the surrounding was similar to the graveyard.
Due to the excitement and the expectation of getting to fish, all else was forgotten. Hurriedly we took out the long wriggily worms and attached them to the hooks. As I inserted the sharp end of the hook into the worm, it wriggled and squirmed; probably due to the pain. Sorry, but worm, you are bait for the fish.
Eagerly we dropped the lines into the pond. Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Five lines were dropped into the pond instantly. We then waited for the float to move. We waited and waited.
It was at this time that some of us looked around and noticed that we could still see some of the tombstones not far away. They were not clear though because of the bushes and the trees but we could make out the distinctive shapes.
It was also at this time that we felt a little queer about the surrounding. The trees around the pond were mostly wild cherry trees and there were plenty of little ripe and red cherries hanging from the branches. Usually the birds; mostly mynahs and sparrows would be feasting on them. There was an unusual silence surrounding the area. It was as if the birds feared coming to this place. There was only a rare twitting of birds quite far away.
The fear crept into us as if someone had cast a spell. We kept totally silent expecting at any moment some great beast or spirit to spring from the pond or drop from the tall trees around us.
Suddenly a meek voice broke the awful silence and it made goose pimples appear on our skin. It was Ravi.
He asked, “Are there any ghosts here? I’m afraid.”
Trying to be brave Gopal replied, “What ghosts? This is a pond, not a graveyard, ha, ha.”
“Gopal, is there another way to go home? I mean can we go home without having to use the same way that we came through?" I asked.
Gopal hesitated and replied, "Yes, but it is longer and we need twice the time. That was the shortest. Anyway, why? Are you afraid?"
"No, it's just that we Chinese are advised not to trespass such a place especially at night. That place belongs to the dead." I said.
Gopal with a smile said, "Don't worry. If we do not disturb them or harm them, we should not be afraid. Let's talk about fishing for now, okay?"

Passing through the Graveyard

2009-07-28T06:37:00.000-07:00

We did not notice the flat slabs of stones in rows. They all had inscriptions in Chinese. The lettering was in red and gold. We only paid attention at them until Guna pointed at them and asked what they were. I told them that those were tombstones and we had arrived at the Chinese cemetery. Only then and from the cold facial expressions that we were scared.
As we made our way along the path with the tombstones we saw pictures of the dead attached to some of them. We were looking at them and passing remarks like; "Hey, this one is an old lady or this one is a man or this one is quite young or this lady is young and beautiful." We were not scared because we were in a group and it was in broad daylight. If it had been at night our tune would be different and we would not have walked so calmly along this path. I for one would surely have sprinted all the way home. It's funny what can happen or do when we in a group. Spirits are high and there is bravery among us. Of course who would admit one was scared shit-green. Then the others would have called him a "chicken".
We increased our pace. What a relief! The thought of having to return to this place on the way back was too much. Could there be another way or detour instead of this? I was sure these questions were churning in our minds all that time. Nobody asked and nobody dared to query. Deep down we were just acting brave.
Once out of the yard and into the open ground, we slowed to a slow walk instead of a jog. Stunted trees and bushes turned to trees and beautiful landscape. To our left we saw a huge vast span of water.

On our way again

2009-07-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

“Go now. Oh, where re you going to?”
“Fishing,” Thaila answered.
“Where?” he asked.
“A pool nearby,” Guna replied.
“Did you ask your parents?” he asked again.
“Yes,” we chorused.
“Okay, but be careful and go home early. Do not play in the pool.” He advised further.
We thanked him again and again and watched him walking away. We picked up our gear and with the guavas in our hands we set off on our way. I was certain that encounter with the Sikh must have left a deep impression in our lives.
Further up the path, we smiled and were soon laughing like hyenas as if the whole incident had not happened at all. The guavas were really delicious and thirst quenching. After munching half way through the fruits we then realised that we had altogether forgotten to wash our hands. We ate two each within minutes even with those dirty hands.
Ravi was still sighing and cursing because he felt guilty about the whole affair. It must have been the bump on his buttock that hurt too. We consoled him and asked him to forget it.
At one point he had really wanted to go home because he was disappointed and afraid. After much coaxing and support, he forgot the idea of quitting.
The afternoon was hot and we were sweating profusely. Our shirts were stuck to our backs and we were feeling uncomfortable. We were hurrying along the sandy track because we wanted to reach the pond that was supposed to have a lot of fish.

Surprising turn of Events

2009-07-20T23:49:00.000-07:00

Suddenly the Sikh started a loud bellowing of laughter. Something must have made him laugh like that. We could not understand as we were still in a shock.
Slowly he stopped his laughter. He looked at us and was stern.
In between smiles he said, “Okay, look at the lot of you. You look like some dirty kittens.”
“What?” one of us asked.
“Your faces. Look! They are black and dirty,” he said.
“Our faces?” another said.
Looking at our hands, we slowly understood. We did not have the opportunity to wash our hands after the encounter with the slimy gooey earthworms. That was why our faces were stained. So that was why the Sikh was laughing so loudly.
After the laughter, his face turned to a more serious expression. We knew that he was still sore over the whole incident of stealing his guavas.
So Ravi with a pleading voice said, “Oh, please let us go.”
Gopal added, “You can have all your fruits. Take them.”
“Yes, we are very sorry,” I said softly.
“Sorry. Do you know that taking things from others without permission is bad and wrong. It’s stealing, do you know that?” he asked.
“Yes.” Someone answered.
“Why did you steal my guavas? Tell me!” he demanded.
With that barrage of questions and his stunning change of expression, we could not answer him.
Somehow, a voice answered. It was Ravi. He said meekly, “We’re sorry but we are thirsty. The fruits were so delicious.”
“Yes, but you should have asked me,” he said.
Gopal siad, “We did not see you and we are afraid.”
“I’m not a tiger so I cannot eat you,” he added. “What if you injure yourself or break your leg or hand climbing up amd down the tree.”
“We’re sorry. You can take these guavas back, please,” Thaila said as he stretched his hands with the fruits.
“No, you can have them but next time do not steal. You can ask me. I shall pluck them for you. I have a long pole for plucking fruits.” He advised.

Did we escape?

2009-07-18T19:01:00.000-07:00

All seemed well and safe until from behind the tree the same Sikh appeared. With one look at his face, I thought that I had fainted. I thought I must have been in suspended motion looking at him. How the others reacted could not be imagined.
We knew that we had no chance to escape this time. In the confusion and shock, all I could hear were, “Sorry… Please… Let us go, very sorry..,”
I could not remember what I had muttered as all of us were in tears and we were begging earnestly. Our hands were rubbing away the tears that were rolling down like huge raindrops.
We did not realise that we were still clasping the guavas with one hand and the other rubbing away the tears on our cheeks and on our faces.

The Great Escape

2009-07-15T07:54:00.000-07:00

He grabbed one branch and was about to step onto another when the branch he was holding on broke and he lost his balance. He tried to grab another branch but in vain.
“Oh. My God,” I said. I could not dare to watch and imagine the consequence. The others just watched with their mouths wide opened.
‘Thud! Thud! Crash and boom’ He landed onto the ground under the tree like a sack of potatoes. As he was falling down he could not help crying and shouting.
The shouting and the loud landing must have been so evident that the owner came shouting at the top of his voice. We had not noticed him sleeping under another tree as we were so engrossed in the climb by Ravi and the juicy fruits. All else did not matter now. We shouted for Ravi to make a dash.
The Sikh came bellowing and shouting curses at us. He ran from the tree he was resting under towards the place where Ravi was. Ravi got up with an uneasy effort. We were just helplessly waiting outside the compound for our friend. Ravi managed to scale the barbwire fence and over the wooden wall. He had just managed to join us when the Sikh came charging at us but stopped at the fence. All the while he was scolding and shouting. We were petrified we were also screaming not of anger but pure fear and the safe return of our brave climber, Ravi.
We took to our heels and sped off along the sandy lane away from the compound. We could not see the Sikh after a few hundred metres and around a few bends. We regrouped under a tall and shady tree to regain our composure. Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, we sat down and rested.

Action! Go Ahead. Get them!

2009-07-10T17:27:00.000-07:00

Stealing! Stealing them would be a serious crime. If we were caught; we could not imagine the worst. Our parents would be informed and we would be locked up in the cell of the police station.
The temptation was so great that we had to get the fruits come what may. Finally after a long discussion on the pros and cons, we voted to steal them. By using a show of hands, we voted Ravi to do the nasty job. We used the common rhyme “Lai, lai, li, li lai thum, plomp”
He was quick and agile and soon he was over the barbed wire fence and the wooden wall. As agile as a monkey and as quick as lightning, he was up the tall guava tree. Our hearts pounded in union and I bet we could hear the pounding too. Each of us hoped he would not fall and that the owner would not come charging like a bull and shouting. We whispered and urged him on his arduous task of climbing. The fruits were quite high up in the tree. I was sure then that this was the reason why he had not bothered to pluck them. What a waste! I wondered.
Soon he had reached a big and voluptuous one. He plucked and dropped it over the fence. We were able to catch it. Next he move over to another branch and he did the same. From one branch to another he moved. We had not made any mistake in the candidate for this job. Fruit after fruit he plucked and we had quite a number. We whispered and asked him to get down as we already had enough to share among ourselves.
Ravi must have been greedy because he attempted to reach another branch where a huge juicy guava was awaiting him. Then the unexpected happened. Did the owner came and caught us stealing? Read on.

STEALING

2009-03-28T23:17:00.001-07:00

Without wasting any time, we started off for the pond that Gopal had mentioned. Like a small infantry we wandered off along sandy tracks and lanes. The cows and goats used these lanes to get to the fields or lorries carrying sand and earth often used them to go to the work sites. Farmers have often used these lanes or tracks to get to their farms.
After a while, we arrived at another cow shed. From previous knowledge we knew that it belonged to a Sikh. (You can see one with a turban on his head some where) As we were walking beside his wooden fence, we noticed that his cows and goats were not around. They must still be grazing in the field nearby as the day was still fine. They would usually be back at around seven or eight in the evening.
There were some guava (jambu in Bahasa Malaysia) trees in his compound. These not only provided shade for the cows but also produced tasty fruits to the owner. Our eyes nearly popped out of our the sockets because hanging from the branches were big red and juicy guavas. Out mouths were watering because we could imagine the juicy, delicious fruits if we could get our hands on them. We stood in amazement and awe. I bet we were wondering at the same time why the fruits were not plucked and eaten. Some were already on the ground beside the tree. What a waste!
It was altogether an instant reaction to the five of us. We were rooted to the spot even though we knew that it was impossible to pluck and devour them. Asking from the owner would be impossibe because we had often seen the owner’s angry look and the shouts he had casted on people who passed by.

GOING WITH THE WORMS

2008-12-17T01:03:00.000-08:00

Like sharing a plate of spaghetti we dropped our fingers into the soft mass of gooey wriggly worms and took out these creatures by the numbers. In fact if not for the dark brown and reddish colour and their movements it was like having a fork of noodles or spaghetti ready to be devoured.
We took a few of them and then put them into an empty can that each of us had brought along. To prevent them from drying and dying we topped them with a layer of soft cow dung. We had learnt this from experience. Once we forgot to do it and on reaching the fishing spot, the worms had dried up and could not be used. So instead of fishing, we swam and played in the mining pool. It was fun though without our parents’ permission and knowledge. If they had known about this adventure, I am sure we would have got a bad trashing from them.

THE CREEPY CREATURES

2008-12-06T18:11:00.000-08:00

Guna unlatched the wooden gate and we went in. The cows and goats were still out in some fields and so we did not have the opportunity to fool around with them. Guna got hold of a hoe and we followed him to the backyard. An awesome sight lay ahead. Looming in front of us was an enormous hill of dung. We were told that each morning the dung from the shed was taken out and piled here.
We eagerly climbed it and stood at the top of it; the summit. The hill was made by months and probably years of dung being piled up over time without wasting any of it. Guna gave a heave and dropped the edge of the hoe into the dung. He pulled away the dung and behold; hundreds of wriggling, slimy earthworms were waiting for us. The worms were much bigger and fatter than those that we usually saw in the backyards of our gardens. Some were as fat as our middle fingers. Oh those fishes were going to have a feast; I thought. They were enormous and it was an awesome sight. Others would have fainted or maybe just run away at the sight of these wriggling and creepy creatures.
As for us we had seen the worst. It was a common sight and a natural setting living in a village. Often after a heavy and continuous downpour, the drains would be flooded and the water overflowed its banks onto the backyards of our houses. This is the time when these earthworms would come crawling and wriggling out and sticking to the walls of houses, chicken coops and trees. These were much smaller, both in size and length. This phenomenon happened because the ground that they inhabited was water logged and these creatures climb up to higher ground so they would not be drowned and that they can breathe. These creatures are living things and as such need to breathe.

The Visit to the Cow Shed

2008-11-08T03:49:00.000-08:00

So with our fishing rods, we gathered again under the tree in front of my house; Gopal, Ravi, Guna, Thaila and I.
"Hey, what about the baits? What are we going to use?" asked Ravi.
Gopal sarcastically asnwered, "Worms, of course. Do you wasn’t to use your fingers?
All of us laughed hysterically.
Ravi asked angrilly, "I mean, where are we going to get your worms?"
Guna interrupted, "He's right, you know. Stop laughing at him. Anyway, we can go to my cow shed to get them."
"Thanks," Gopal and I cried out jubilantly. "Great idea!"
Incidentally, Gopal's family had a herd of cows. I guessd there were about twenty cows, kept in a cow shed not far from his house. In those days, many of the people in the village kept cows as a means of earning an extra income. In the morning the cows would be let out and driven to fields or land where there was grass and plants. In the evening, the cows would either go back to the cow shed all on their own or driven back by the owners. I had often been to the cowshed to see and play with the cows and calves.
The calves were the best. They were friendly and playful. They loved being touched and stroked. I had learnt to love them since I was small. These creatures have feelings and understand humans. We were quite scared of the bulls. Often we were reminded not to wear anything red for red was the colour that bulls detest.
The villagers also kept goats. The kids were really cute. They would skip and come to us and they loved being pushed and rubbed especially their horns. It was a kind of game they loved. Maybe it's inborn or maybe their horns were developing, I am still wondering until today.
To mimic their elders, they knocked and pushed at our hands. Some of them were quite strong though.
Like a platoon, we marched from our homes along back lanes and across the railway tracks, which divided the village and the cowsheds. It took us about twenty minutes to get to the destination; the cowsheds.

The Fishing Rod

2008-09-17T07:32:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-11T03:19:00.000-07:00

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.

The Decision

2008-08-29T08:36:00.000-07:00

Anywhere it was the signal for the five of us to meet. We would as usual exchange news, jokes and chat about anything under the blue sky. After a while we would decide on a particular game to play for the say. Our favourite games in those days were marbles, hide and seek, kite flying, top spinning, rounders, hit and run fishing or chada-gudu (a traditional Indian game).
Ravi suggested, "Let's play with marbles."
Guna interrupted, "No, not today. We played it yesterday. So boring."
Thaila suggested, "What about kite flying?"
I answered quite annoyed, "How to fly the kites? There isn't any wind and it's terribly warm now."
Gopal joined in, "Fishing. Fishing. Let's go. I know of a place that is nice and not very far away."
"Where is it?" the three of us asked.
Gopal continued, "It's near my cow shed and the cemetery, the Chinese one."
"What? Crazy idea! I wouldn't go there. It's not a good place to go to." Ravi said in protest.
"No, we are not going to the cemetery. We are only using the road near it to get to the pond." Gopal explained.
"It's still a crazy idea," Ravi added.
Ravi was the youngest in the group and always the most timid. He was always skeptical and pessimistic. Even though he usually protested, he would yield in the end and joined in because he did not want to be left out of the fun.
I added, "It's a crazy idea but why not. It's worth a try if there are fish there.

Have to Eat First

2008-08-19T08:36:00.000-07:00

Anyway, back to the group, the names are Gunasegaran (Guna), Thaiyalan (Thaila), Ravindran (Ravi) and Gopal Krishnan (Gopal). Ravi is now a police inspector. The five of us had shared a lot of adventures and thrills many kids nowadays would envy.
Each day after school, we would gather in the compound in front of my house or rather our houses. We would sit under the two shady trees and share jokes, stories and tales about everything under the sky.
One particular afternoon; I remembered that it was a Friday afternoon. School was over early as it is now. On reaching home, I kicked off my shoes into the corners of my room. My socks were thrown onto a stool and my bag onto the floor. After changing into my casual clothes, I dumped my soiled school uniform into a pail in the bathroom. Into the kitchen I shot. I took a plate, scooped some rice onto it and went to the food cabinet. There were fish and vegetables (plucked from our farm). I took a fish and added some vegetables. After a quick lunch, I dashed out of my house to meet my buddies. Usually, I would be the first to be there. Standing there, I inserted my fingers into my mouth and blew. A whistle and it was a signal for the others to appear. I had practised this whistle for quite a while before getting it into perfection. At first only air came out without a sound. Later after much practice, I got it right.

My Background

2008-08-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

Children love water and playing in it, be it rain, in the river or pond is all part of growing up. Talk about playing or fishing and fishing comes next in line. Like many children, I love water and especially fishing.
The thrill of having a fish at the end of the fishing line cannot be described. The bigger the fish, the more exciting one becomes. It is only natural. To see a fish struggling to free itself at the end of the line can be a real experience. The trick is to toy with the fish; lag the line and then jerk it back slowly. It is a skill one has to learn when one talks about fishing.
My little tale about fishing is not about the skill and the thrill of fishing. It is a tale of adventure, friendship, teamwork, co-operation, fear and laughter.

During my primary school days, I lived in a village with my grand parents, parents, a brother and four sisters. In those days, big families were common. My grand parents and parents were farmers and each day they leave early to the farm taking care of the vegetable plots. Being the eldest, I was entrusted with the responsibility of taking care of the younger siblings.
In the morning, I would go to the school that was about 5 km away. I walked there with my close friends. They were like brothers to me. They protected me and taught me a lot of things. I am very grateful and often cherish the wonderful moments with them. Though they are now working in faraway places, we try to meet during festivals to catch up with the latest news and happenings.
These friends whom I have just mentioned are all Indians. I was the only Chinese because I lived in an Indian neighbourhood. We shared everything, secrets, snacks, tea, toys, games and even the same hobbies. In actual fact we were like blood brothers.
The houses around mine all belonged to Indian families. In those days, we ran around everywhere; into the front of one house and out through the back. There was not any secrets or disturbance. We trusted one another. During the Chinese New Year, my friends would come to my house for cookies and food. During Deepavali, I would go from house to house savoring all the delicious cooking. This is also one of the reasons why I love and enjoy the Indian cooking. Naturally, I picked up the Tamil language by mixing around with them. In a sense it is an achievement all due to the background I had then.