Let’s Play

By Swarn Lamba

Kho-Kho, Oonch-Neech, Gulli Danda- names that bring back memories of outdoor games and time spent with friends. Rushing out into the courtyard after finishing schoolwork. Playing until the birds went home to nest and mothers stood in doorways, calling their children to come home. Children pleading for a few more minutes of play.

The rules of these games have been passed down by word of mouth from one generation to another. The rules are so flexible that there is no right or wrong way of playing as long as the group agrees to the rules. The names of the games and the rules vary from region to region and neighbourhood to neighbourhood. Playing games outdoors provided an occasion to meet up with other kids and every game created its own momentum and helped develop the child into a better person. This unique and wonderful novella about Indian outdoor games will introduce children to the delightful classic games.
Join-
– Preeto as she breaks the stereotype by playing Gulli Danda with the boys;
– Sri, who encouraged by his parents, plays Kho Kho;
– Jai, as he plays with and collects colourful marbles;
– Urmi and Abhoy in a competitive game of Pittu.
– in the chanting of Poshampa and Oonch Neech as it fills the evening air.
– the hop-scotch players as they try for the Dullej
– Fajaton as she plays Sagol Kangjei (polo);
– Deepu as he flies his own kite for the first time on Uttarayan.

This exciting collection will bring back old memories and give you a chance to make some new ones! These games are just as much fun today! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to revive them with your children and grandchildren?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zorba Books
• Release date: Dec 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9789390640683

Swarn Lamba

Swarn Lamba is an educator, writer, and poet. Her first poetry book, A Twinkle, A Tear...moments in a mother’s life was published in 2008. She has contributed short stories and poems to an anthology Mama Dar, Tales of Family Life in Tanzania published in 2010. She has also co-published a monthly lifestyle magazine. She is a culinarian and maintains a food blog. Born and raised in India, she has spent over 35 years of her adult life in Tanzania, Africa before finally calling Australia her home. Swarn is now retired and spends her time writing, drawing inspiration from her grand-daughters. Through this book she is excited to introduce her grand-daughters to traditional games and the richness of Indian culture.

Book preview

PREFACE

Far-far away as I walk, masked and socially distanced from others under the clear skies of Melbourne, I reminisce about my childhood spent in Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Orissa, West Bengal, Madhya Pradesh and Delhi, the games we played, the fun and arguments we had! I bring myself back to the present and look at my grand-daughters. How can I be the link to their roots? How can I share with them the joy of playing traditional Indian games, wearing traditional clothes, and eating traditional food? How can I be the link that makes their experience richer, and helps them explore diversity and embrace all cultures?

Thus, was born my series of stories about the games I played when I was younger, as well other games that are played in different parts of India. I have based them in different states of India. The stories touch upon the traditional clothes, cuisines, and occupations of particular regions. I have added an odd word or phrase from the regional language to add a bit more authenticity and connection. With no trace of preaching, the stories are intended to convey the ideas of commonality between people of different regions, gender equality, caring for each other, working as a team, and resolving conflict.

Although this book is meant for boys and girls, I do hope that it will be read by men and women too. My aim is to remind adults about the games they played, the fun they had and have them encourage children to play these games too.

With his tongue between his teeth the nine-year-old Pritam is rocking on his haunches and writing his English words on his phatti. He had cleaned his slate and spread multani mitti on it last night. It had then been left to dry. He had also filled his inkpot with water and dissolved small pieces of limestone in it to make the ink. His kalam, which is made of bamboo reed, is well sharpened to form a nib. His homework had been to form his letters clearly and neatly. The English teacher is strict and will make him redo it all over again if his work is messy. He repeats the words under his breath as he writes, ‘b-a-t bat, bat mane balla; c-a-t cat, cat mane billi …’. He leaves his phatti resting against the wall so that the ink dries. He must hurry. All his friends are waiting in the yard for him so they can start their game of gulli-danda.

Pritam is the custodian of the gulli-danda as his team had the highest score last week. He is determined to score high again today. He also keeps a spare gulli and danda in case one breaks while playing. He puts his slate away while mentally practising the hits. He picks up the gulli-danda and rushes out of the door saying, ‘Ma, I am going out to play.’

Pritam’s mother calls out to him, ‘Have you finished your homework?’ Without waiting for his response, she says, ‘Oye, take your sister, Preeto, with you. Let her join your game! She is just going to sit here and whine and I have lots of stitching to do. The clients will come to pick up their clothes today.’ The festival of Teeyan is around the corner and everyone wants to wear new clothes. Swings have gone up on the sturdy branches of trees. Married girls are visiting their parents and the ladies get together to do Gidda.

Pritam’s mother stitches the traditional salwar-kameez for ladies and often gets asked to sew kurtas and pyjamas for the men and boys. More and more youngsters are wearing nikkers now and she has learnt to stitch those too. She likes to embroider phulkari on stoles and sheets when she finds time from her otherwise busy schedule. Her husband and his brothers own a piece of land and a tractor and grow their own crops. When the sugar cane is ripe they make their own ‘gur’. Her mother-in-law spends her time spinning thread on the charkha and humming traditional Punjabi songs. When she has spun enough thread, they will weave cotton blankets on the handloom that has been set up in one of the rooms.

Pritam rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. ‘Preeto is only 7, and she’s a girl. What does she know about gulli-danda?’

‘Take her, mera puth. I’ll make gulgule for you,’ coaxes the mother. No can resist Gulgule in the monsoons!

‘Preeto, chal, hurry up!’ he calls out. Easier to give in than argue with his mother and waste more time.

‘You’ve brought your crybaby sister again? She doesn’t even know