The sum total of our childhood

Harish Dhillon

I am not given to dwelling much on the past, but then I read Freud's essay ‘Psychopathology of Everyday Life’ where he says that childhood activities and memories have a profound influence on our development as individuals. I found myself wondering how far this was true of my own life.
Due to some peculiar family circumstances, I spent the first five years of my life with my grandmother - my step grandmother. She was young and glamorous: there was nothing grandmotherly about her. There was never any scope for sitting in her lap, of crying to her about my troubles, of being sung to sleep, or generally being the recipient of any untoward affection. As long as I remained within the gates of the huge compound, I was left largely to myself. I searched for caterpillars, caught butterflies, invented games and made up stories, which I regaled my grandmother's visitors with.
If I fell and hurt myself, I was never subjected to any molly coddling or any fuss. At the time I did not miss this because it was outside my experience.
She was a tremendous cook and I still savour the memory of some of the dishes that she cooked. But her interest in the kitchen was sporadic, limited to the time when my grandfather was not on tour. For the rest we had to be content with the indifferent cooking of the servants, who succeeded in making ‘keema’ and ‘bhartha’ taste exactly the same.
I was extremely susceptible to bronchial asthma and on the doctor's advice I was kept well covered for the major part of the year. This covering took the form of a garment very much like the overalls that motor mechanics wear, only mine were hand-knitted. The wool was recycled wool and since it came in all kinds of colours, it had first to be dyed a uniform navy blue or maroon or dark brown. When this garment was removed at night I would find my body coloured with the colour of the day. I took as much pride in this as a Red Indian would take in his war paint: triumphant when it came out strong and disappointed when it came out weak.
How has my childhood impacted on the kind of person I am? I am never bored and I am not afraid of being alone. I have honed my skill at storytelling and earned some fame on this account. I am not fussy as far as food is concerned and eat whatever Meena, my cook, gives me, even when the chicken has been reduced to ‘bhartha’. I have no problem with clothes either, as long as they are clean: the only clothes that I have ever bought are export rejects from Janpath or Chandni Chowk.
Over the years, I have discovered that I am incapable of any emotional commitment and this has been both my greatest weakness in life and my greatest strength. And yes, on cold foggy days, when there is a very real fear of the return of my asthama, I long for the comfort of my grandmother’s hand-knitted overalls, complete with the war paint!