Tag Archives: River Jhelum

Leaving Time

The New Bedford Library is a few minutes walk from where Son, and I live. Tomorrow is my due date to return the books I got from it. One of those books is Leaving Time by Jodi Picoult. Back home I have got quite a collection of her books. She is one of my favorite authors.

I like her books, but there is one thing I don’t, and that is being sad. When I was younger I read all sorts of books, and could take everything in stride — sadness, death, murders and mysteries. Now all I can take is comfort in reading that the hero, and heroine got their happy after. I don’t want to read gory ends.

Jodi’s books make profound readings. Leaving Time is all about elephants, and a girl named Jenna who searches for her vanished mother till she finds her. While reading the book I learnt more about elephants, which previously I didn’t know.

I loved elephants during childhood. One of my dream was to get an elephant for a pet. My brother Lala who is eight years older than me would exploit it to no end. He only had to say that my elephant needed something I had, and I would hand it over to him unquestionably.

Mughal Kings during their time if they wanted to sentence someone, would gift a white elephant. The elephant required huge amounts of money for their upkeep, and soon the recipient of the king’s favor was reduced to poverty.

My mythical elephant still strolls the banks of River Jhelum, though Lala doesn’t requires me to give gifts for him.

Home of my Childhood

My childhood home was a bungalow, painted white with arches, near the banks of River Jhelum. It was our first home with father after mother’s death. Three of us lived there with father, though he was mostly absent from home. Our cook, and a maid cared for us.

In front was a formal garden. On the left side of the house was a wide dome structure. This housed a deep underground well, to which you could go down on stairs. On the right side of the house was an orchard and vegetable garden. At the back were trees more than a century old. 

Fron one of the tree’s  branch hung my swing. I could swing very high, almost as high as the roofs of our home. It was dizzying and dangerous, but who cared to scold me, and look at what I was up to.

Lala (elder brother) would swim in the nearby river, though he never allowed me. It wasn’t safe, because one day he was caught in the swirling currents, and would have drowned if not for our cook who saved him.

Silence reigned our home. Having no parental supervision Lala used to be out with friends. I was the only one at home. My younger brother was sent to our paternal grandma. He would follow any woman crying Mor (means mother). One day we almost lost him.

Books were my friends then, and they still are.


Our House

What are the earliest memories of the place you lived in as a child? Describe your house. What did it look like? How did it smell? What did it sound like? Was it quiet like a library, or full of the noise of life? Tell us all about it, in as much detail as you can recall.