Holiday homes in the seventies

The Sun was so much milder then. It seems hot and angry now. But during our childhood summers, we spent most of our time outdoors; under the mango and guava trees in the garden. They gave us shade and fruit and surfaces to etch our names on. In return we let them listen to our secrets and be a part of our games.

In the early morning on the first day of our summer holidays, the four of us would trek to the forest nearby. We would carefully select and bring back sticks for building our holiday home. We smoothened out the ground beneath the mango tree using our palms and feet and water. Then four sticks with a Y on top were fixed in four corners. The bottoms were sharpened to an arrow so that they would go easily into the wet holes we placed them in. This was done for us by Dad with a sharp knife. Sticks for the roof were balanced on the Y’s. Everything was kept in place with bits of rope.

The elder brother was the architect and designer; the elder sister more of a supervisor and refreshment in charge. She made trips back and forth from the kitchen to the backdoor garden. Building a summer home was a tiring task and Mom was always ready with homemade cakes, bread with tomato pickle, savouries and mango juice. The younger two siblings ( me and my younger brother) did the menial work…..digging holes, fetching water, sizing sticks. Then came the turn of building the walls with bushy sticks. And finally the piece-de-resistance…a small, soft, red cotton saree which had been gifted to us siblings by our maid servant…for our play times. She had bought it from the nearby village market because we sisters were so fascinated with the saree as a garment, particularly since Mom wore dresses. The saree wrapped perfectly around the sides of the house. The door was big enough for us and our pet dog and cat and whatever other creature we had adopted at that time. The size of the door ensured that Mom, Dad and visiting Uncles and Aunts could only admire our Holiday home from the outside. This would be our summer home for almost a month.

We spent all our waking hours here. We ate our meals, read storybooks, played ludo, did our holiday homework, made tiny clay pots and pans, fought with each other, made up, fought off flies and made repairs to the home when bits fell off. One or two of us could always be found here during the daytime. In the afternoon we cooled down the home by spraying water on the red saree with the garden hose. We cooled down ourselves by sucking on colourful ice cubes. These we made by freezing mango juice in ice trays in the tiny fridge in the bungalow. At night we boarded up the door of our holiday home with a piece of plywood and some bricks so that stray dogs, cats and nocturnal creatures did not take up residence.

The next day would see us back at our holiday home where new childish games awaited us. We tried to be on our best behaviour during the holidays. We knew that mischief or naughtiness could get punished by Mom. And sometimes that punishment could be, “Stay in the house, no going out”. It meant hearing your siblings having fun outdoors and seeing them through the bars on the windows of the bungalow. That was unthinkable. Better safe than sorry.

So everyone was happy, Mom was happy because we were on our best behaviour and we were happy because we loved our home.

A few days before the end of the holidays the red saree would be taken down and given to Mom to wash and store for our next playtime. The sticks would be dismantled and given to the gardener to use as support for the pumpkin and bitter gourd which would soon be planted in the kitchen garden.

And some sticks which had taken root and sprouted green leaves were allowed to stay there. They were living testimonials of a happy summer holiday home for four children and their pets. They were also proof of the sudden summer showers which occasionally occurred, giving root to the sticks and delight to the children inside the (not rain proof) home.

The four children returned to school after the holidays, happy with memories of a wonderful holiday. They were unaware that they had not just built a home of sticks but had also created memories to last a lifetime. All they knew was that in a few months another long holiday and another exciting way to spend it awaited them. But that is another story