I generally hate weather like today’s. Dark, overcast skies only bring back images of the Danish winter, not the best part of my six months there. Such weather always makes me sad, depressed and lazy.
But today was different, something about the light, weather and the smell of those few drops of rain, brought back really old memories.
I remember….. when I had gone for a week long camp. It was in Primary school. 4th Standard to be precise. That would be Primary 4 according to Singapore terminologies. We used to live in Dombivili (one of the suburbs of Mumbai), and my school had organised a camp for us in the wilderness near Pune.
As I started remembering things, a flood of memories came back to me. The prep for the camp. The equipment list. The HUGE Mug with a wierd smell. :D The hand-me-down shoes. The candies during the bus ride. The camp site. The wilderness. The lonely feeling. The treasure hunt. The gender segrigated sleeping arrangement. The loud snoring at night. The flooded river. The games, and the shorts w/o any pockets. The Gorge-Walk. The morning tea. The climb to Sinhagad. The khichadi sans salt. The nite-watch. The open milk-maid tin and the cut finger. The disgusting toilets and washing plates with salt/sand.
It was such a great time, not a care in the world! I remember feeling scared and missing my parents a lot. I also remember making a whole lot of great friends and even more mischief. And most of all, I remember the amazing nature that I saw. I have seen more beautiful natural beauty and some really amazing sights in my life, but that week in the foothills of Sinhagad, I will never forget.
I don’t remember the name of the village where we stayed or the name of the organisation that held this camp. All I remember is that the camp was named ROOTS!
ED: I do remember the name of the village.. it was khanapur, in the foothills of Sinhagad…