game of “seven stones” or pittu An indelible part of childhood for many people. , photo credit: file photo
It was six in the evening. The sun had begun to descend over the horizon, igniting the sky with an orange hue. The crisp evening air was slowly creeping in, as the dogs shivered and curled up to make cozy little balls of fur as they slept.
My friends stood still, breathing heavily, all eyes fixed on the small pile of stones sitting precariously. It stood so innocently, almost indistinguishable against the gray tar of the road. Sometimes his eyes would flash back to me as I stood a short distance away from the stones, tossing and catching a small squishy ball. After creating as much suspense as I could, I squinted my eyes, took careful aim and threw. The ball flew into the air, and only a second later I realized that I had applied too much force. It struck the pile of hard work and the stones scattered at random. Screaming loudly, I ran as fast as I could, all my friends springing into action. and thus, a new game of pittu began.
natural result of ten year old girls playing pittu It was very loud. This drove our neighbors absolutely wild, prompting us to change the street we played on every day. But every evening, without fail, we forgot about our worries about homework and schoolwork, and were completely immersed in our own world. pittuKho-kho, hide-and-seek and countless other outdoor games.
Playing with my “colony friends” every evening was such an essential part of my childhood that I can’t imagine life without it: impatiently waiting for the clock to strike five; call each other to set up a meeting place; downing a glass of milk quickly and waiting impatiently for friends to finish; and yelling the names of said friends (who somehow always were late) from downstairs in their apartment. The thought clearly did not cross our minds that we were rudely interrupting the much-awaited afternoon rest of the many uncles and aunts in the building. How different would our evenings be without the daily and downright exhilarating rush to run and play like there is no tomorrow!
You hear about children longing to grow up and become adults; unconsciously and innocently wishing for a life that they feel is better than the life they are being forced to endure. But I don’t really remember wanting to grow up. On the contrary, I remember holding onto those precious moments of my childhood for as long as possible. aged Elder sister In our colony, in our eyes, rather sad, Will spend his evenings strolling here and there. We looked at him with disdain, swearing that when we reached his age, we’d still be running around freely and laughing at ourselves. But, as it turns out, as we grew up, so did we Elder sister Which we took an oath not to follow. People changed, priorities changed, and time no longer seemed as vast and endless as it did when we were leaving home to play after a long day at school.
Now whenever I look outside my house and see kids playing, I immediately get nostalgic about our childhood pittuPlay day. I remember the wind rushing through my hair as I gleefully dodged an incoming ball and then proceeded to pile stones, still under enemy fire. And the sweet relief of gulping down ice cold water after playing. When my friends and I talk now, our conversation often turns to the old days, and we excitedly plan to play pittu Whenever we all meet again.
I wholeheartedly agree with these plans, although sadly I know it may never happen. But I can’t help but smile at how our memories are so strong and so sweet that we still make these plans, more than ten years later. i might not play pittu Same again, but I’m thankful for the memories that have lasted all these years.
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