Summer was a time for complete freedom from books and a chance for imagination
to run wild. It was a chance to roam around the village. It brought many
feelings in and exposed us to many experiences. 

Leaving the chappal at home, we would run barefoot. The scorching summer sun
would heat the earth so much that stepping on it would immediately make you
wince in pain. We would however, walk on the toetips and soles of our feet,
arching the rest of the foot to avoid contact with the ground. If by chance you
stepped on a stone or a concrete floor burning in the sun, good luck!

But then, the afternoon was the best time to laze around. The older people would
be dozing in the madaha and we kids would be playing chilharo in Vidya's baag.
Quickly climbing the crooked mango tree. I never saw a mango on the crooked
mango tree. Probably the kids never let any fruit ripen on it.

Benchu's Gadahi was so dry that the floor would crack. I always hold that image
in my head even though people have told me that it fills up completely in the
rainy season. 

In the afternoon, sitting under the new golahinda, looking at the harvested
fields, the stumps of rahantha and a few fields where the fallen wheat ears have
not yet been picked, the air would seem to be moving and distorting the scenes
of far. The hot air called "loo" would be blowing and it would be silent. It
would be so completely silent, that you could hear the flies and the bhunga from
the mango trees buzzing. 

In the afternoon, the women of the household would be finishing eating and
cleaning the utensils. They would use the raakh (ash) from the chulha for
scrubbing the utensils. They would ask us to bring them the bamboo leaves to use
as a scrubber. The aag in the chulha would be let running. I guess I still
remember the days when machis was expensive and women would preserve the fire to
be used by covering it up in ash and letting it smolder. I still remember the
day when if the smolders would go out in one home, they would send a small piece
of cowdung cake from their home with one of the kids to go borrow the fire from
another home. Now those days are gone. Usually, the women would also put a few
potatoes in the chulha, under the warm ash and let it cook slowly. In the
evening, if the kids got hungry, there was something to eat for them.