Tickets Please!


I don’t know about you, but I was blessed with an awesome childhood. I used to have loads of fun – didn’t have to worry about reaching college on time, meeting deadlines or about evil people hiding behind their perfect masks.

It was a time I used to run around like anything, trying to imitate my parents, and explore everything new – though I would hardly have any idea what it was. And then of course, get scolded by my mother for the mess I made. I didn’t have to worry about anything, and like every other idiot my own age waited to grow up. I used to have a halo over my head. But not wings, because I didn’t have Redbull when I was a kid.

Summer vacation was the most awaited time of the year for me, more than the other vacations – it was 2 months long. And I could spend it with my cousins. I used to visit my mom’s house, where she grew up, every summer. There were four of us – three girls and a boy . We would play all varieties of games, which included the video games where you needed a ‘cassette’ to play. Sadly, I doubt if they still exist.

One of the games we used to play was ‘tickets please’. Now we didn’t have any particular name for it, at least not one that I remember. This is a name I just made up. Like every other part of Kerala, my mother’s home too had coconuts and banana trees. It also had roses, and ‘jambakas’ and hibiscus and lot more I don’t remember. And there was a low wall covering all this, and it would only reach up to somewhere near my knee now. We used to sit on this wall, tear up banana leaves into rectangles, and hit it with a stone. We would make patterns that looked like Braille, and be utmost satisfied. We were all plane passengers, you see, and one of us the ticket collector. The TC would collect our tickets, tear it up ( so that we can’t use it again) and let us in through imaginary gates. We would also replace the plane with bus or train occasionally.

After all this, we would go back to making tickets again. Or maybe eat ‘jambakas’ our mothers would pluck for us.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s