ABSTRACT
Green as far as the eye could see, our Sultanpur, with a river on one side. There were plenty of ponds too and so much of fish, we never thought of buying fish. Each house had a pond and paddy fields stretched to the horizon on either side of the village. We used to go to the village ‘pathshala’ and that was a bit boring. But as dark clouds hovered on the western horizon and the sun mellowed down, we felt very happy. Panditmoshai (we never called our teachers ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ like you) had spread out his stock of firewood in the sun. As the rains came, first in slow, hesitant, haphazard drops and then in torrents, Panditmoshai called us to gather his firewood back to the shed and that meant school was over for the day. While rushing back home what a thrill it was to gather fallen green mangoes from beneath undulating trees! The clap of thunder and the tangy taste of unripe mangoes with a pinch of salt. 1
