On this road, 40 years ago

Roma Uppal 

FORTY! What does ‘4’ and ‘0’ stand for? Is it an age, or just a numerical figure? Today, as I took my morning stroll, I looked down the road I had been walking on these past over 40 years. It was recently carpeted, and so was smooth. My thoughts wandered to my house that my husband and I lovingly laboured to construct in 1976 and moved into it in 1977. The road runs in front of the house; it has me strolling at 80 — how often I must have walked briskly, ran or dashed in a hurry to be in time for the school bus of my children. I would have done a record sprint to catch the CTU bus to go to work, or later when we had a staff bus for PGIMER employees. 

My thoughts go to us setting up our home. The euphoria of settlement putting an end to our nomadic existence, unpacking stuff we carted around for so many years. We had planned new furniture, curtains and an exhaustive list. I was 40 then — like a car at full throttle; nothing seemed out of reach. Sombre, sublime time ticks away. 

I see my grandchildren now, the same age as my children when we moved into our home; surprisingly,  my granddaughter is a throwback on my daughter and my grandson a clone of my son. ‘Forty’ created such a buzz in my mind that this could not have been penned another day.

How different was life then! My children went to school in a fauji vehicle. Today, our city has multiple buses for each school; my son — in nursery — went to school in a rickshaw. Now, I drop my grandkids to school in a chauffeur-driven car and pick them up — in fact, it is a very important component of my daily routine. We lived as nuclear families, my neighbours pitched in to baby-sit my kids, my grandkids have the luxury of being pampered by grandparents! As the decades tumbled, I graduated to a four-wheeler from bus travel; the children from cycles to two-wheelers. Summers were hot, water coolers gave relief. We had an air-conditioner in our room, in which everyone would want to sleep, including a young couple who were our tenants! 

Today, every room has an air-conditioner. A huge park in front was uncared for, with mounds of rubble and sand as new houses were coming up. My son played in sand heaps, his hair bore tell-tale signs. Today, it is a well-maintained park, thanks to the Green Park Association that binds the community and celebrates festivals together. 

The years have seen occupants mellowing from 50, down to their seventies. We all walk on this road slower now, and for a shorter duration and are particular about its maintenance. No dog poop is permitted; beautiful trees of neem, gulmohar, amaltas and other evergreens adorn the sides of the park. An air of bonhomie and camaraderie abounds. We have converted our ‘40’ into an enviable double digit!