Memories of pitha and gilli danda in Lakhtokia

I was born and raised in Lakhtokia, Guwahati, and have witnessed its journey from a quaint hamlet to a bustling commercial hub.

Our neighbourhood, once calm and quiet, was dotted with bamboo-and-straw cottages and houses built with bamboo walls plastered with clay. Today, all of that has vanished, giving way to towering concrete blocks. The sprawling backyards where we played are now choked by buildings, leaving hardly any breathing space.

Unlike children of today, glued to screens, we spent our days outdoors, playing gilli-danda, hopscotch, lattu (spinning top), marbles, kabaddi, tug-of-war, and hide-and-seek. A pond in our neighbourhood, with lotus and water hyacinth floating lazily, was our summer retreat. We spent endless hours enjoying the cool breeze or spreading nets to catch fish and tadpoles — simple joys that knew no bounds.

Most backyards were a treasure trove of fruits — custard apple, guava, berries, pomegranate — which we plucked straight from the trees and relished to our hearts’ content.

Exhausted after playing, my cousins, friends, and I would savour the treats lovingly prepared by my aita (grandmother) and aunts. The memory of those pithas, stuffed with roasted sesame, grated coconut and jaggery even now makes my mouth water.

Ours was a large joint family, and every meal felt like a feast as we sat on the floor or around the table to relish Assamese delicacies cooked over a chulha (clay fireplace). But with time, the joint family broke into nuclear units, taking with it the warmth of togetherness.

I deeply miss those golden days of yore which seem lost forever.

Sabir Nishat, Guwahati