A 90s childhood journey back to the remote village where the river roared and the moon followed us home
Childhood is a stage of life that cannot be forgotten, even if you try. And if that childhood was spent away from the shadow of electronic gadgets, it feels even more memorable and adventurous. Secretly going out to play with friends; sitting with grandfather at night to hear stories; enduring hours of boring TV programs just to watch your favorite cartoons; and then tying ropes to the bed to have fake wrestling matches. These memories, which 90s kids enjoyed, are something today’s children are not fortunate enough to experience.
I was born in a village near Mansehra, a small city in northern Pakistan. It was a very beautiful village, but to me, it felt quite boring. By 8 or 9 o’clock at night, all the village lights would go out. It would be so silent that the roar of the Siran River carried from 2 KM away, reaching us so clearly it felt like it was flowing right behind us.
One night, my father told me about time zones and mentioned a place near Norway called Svalbard. He said there was no night for four months. I used to pray that I just had to go to Svalbard so that I wouldn’t have to sleep and could play all day long. But I didn’t actually hate the night, especially a bright, moon-lit one.
…
Have any of you ever seen a sky full of stars? This is a luxury my child may never be fortunate enough to experience because he is being raised in the city. I still remember how my brother and I used to lie in the courtyard at night, watching for ‘moving stars (satellites or shooting stars).’ We had read about the ‘Plough’ stars in our third-grade Social Studies book. It said that centuries ago, travelers used these stars to find the North Pole. We used to spend our time searching for its two pointer stars, Dubhe and Merak, in the cluster of gleaming diamonds. And on the night of the full moon, whenever we walked, it felt as if the moon was following us.
…
Childhood joys were wonderful, and most importantly, adventurous. We used to play some games that might seem strange now. My brother, cousins, and I would go to a stream flowing near the river. At least once during the winter months, we would definitely play this one game: you had to take off your shirt and jump into the freezing cold water. Oh, I still remember how difficult it was to stay in the water to the count of 10. But the fear only lasted until the moment before the jump. Once we were in the water, it felt as if our bodies had turned warm instead of cold.
Besides that, we played games like lifting heavy stones or team-based sports like tag. I remember that because of those games, I ran through corners of the village I never would have visited otherwise. It was because of these games that I saw every single inch of the village. We also hang a coin on a tree and aim at it with a catapult. The winner got the chocolates. Sometimes, we became warriors, holding long sticks in our make-believe wars. The funny part was the soundtrack we created ourselves: the clang of clashing swords, the cries of falling soldiers, and the frantic shouting of orders to the flanks.
…
When we’d return in the evening after playing, our favorite Treasure Island cartoons would be on. We never missed an episode. Back then, we had school holidays on Fridays. There was only one channel on TV, and even that wouldn’t work without an antenna. On Thursday nights at 11:00 PM, they used to air an English or an Old Urdu movie. I watched many Jean-Claude Van Damme and Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. But in our eagerness to watch the movie, most of the time we’d end up falling asleep right where we were sitting. We only managed to stay awake until 11:00 PM on rare occasions. That usually happened if it was a Van Damme movie!
…
I loved my village home so much. Even today, I don’t think any house feels dearer to me than that one. While there are so many precious memories tied to that house, I’ll leave you with one funny story. Outside our boundary wall, there was a garden where my father planted six poplar trees. They were just branches that he stuck into the ground. We were quite young, maybe 7 to 9 years old, and we used to consider those trees our ‘young brothers.’ But to this day, I’ve never seen a younger brother who grows so much in four years that while you’re only 4.5 feet tall, he’s 80 feet.
I still remember those evenings when hundreds of Mynah (a bird from the starling family) would gather on those trees. They would chirp for so long that our entire house would echo with their songs. We would walk up and make a sudden gesture with our hands, and they would all take flight at once. Because they flew together, the sound of their wings felt like a rhythmic beat in our ears.
Our memories are much the same. With every tick of the clock, they fly past us, leaving behind a rhythmic beat in our ears and moving visuals in the corners of our eyes.
To the Childhood…