I was barely 11 when I was sent off to my uncles in Mumbai for better education. I guess many boys from Bihar, born in 90's have been in those little shoes. Good education was hard to find in the state those days, and kids like me from the darkened corners of earth had to sacrifice much to learn.
I'd only cry when nobody was looking, because even eleven years olds have an inkling that crying makes you look weak. And, a kid who is already smaller and thinner for his age doesn't want to look weak ever, no sir. Still, cracks would show. Unbidden sobs would come during sleepless nights. It was then I discovered that helpless sorrow is a great cure for Insomnia. Nothing puts you out better than the red darkness of despair. I once accidentally called a lady teacher mummy in one of my brain fade moments. And, the laughter that followed had me quaking in the fear of being mocked relentlessly. And, the mocking came along. But, sympathy was there as well. And, stories from bigger boys about their past slips and sorrows which mirrored mine.
Apparently everyone of them had misplaced their 'mummies' at one point or other.
Still, We were one and the same, I realized. Boys who had to become men before their time. Who had to understand the complexities of loneliness, and separation and soldiering on before they could learn silly things which children indulge in. Well, we wouldn't know. We learned shit like freedom. And self-reliance. And, fighting our own battles with our tiny hands and snotful nose without the assurance of 'The Man' at our backs. I learned to cuss. And, play chess. And, to bat at number 4. And, to be not afraid of ghosts. And, to write a speech better than kids twice my age.
I learned about hierarchies and power of ganging up on the weaklings. I learned to hit, and never back down in a fight. I learned how to get back at cruel shitty teachers, learned the importance of treachery and the sheer beauty of vandalism. And, there was always someone to teach me. Boys a few year older than myself, but with the wisdom of whole world underneath their tiny peckers.
We were in this together. A long legacy of children looking out for each other, consoling and corrupting, harming and protecting in equal measure. Brothers bonded in tears and blood. Most of those bothers are lost to me. I have forgotten most of their faces. But, we were teachers, and mothers and friends and enemies to each other for many years. And, I shall forever be grateful. And, I am grateful now as I gorge on Biryani while writing this down, as I remember the flavour less vile shit we were served everyday in the name of food, and yet nobody ever went hungry if they decided to skip a meal.