Our first house in Baroda was at 108, Vithlesh Apartment, near the Jayratna building, on the first floor. I began my LKG at Shreyas Vidyalaya, Polo Ground, which was close to our apartment. I remember the walk to school from my apartment with my mom or dad, past the old cowshed that stood along the way.
We lived in the Vithlesh apartment until I completed fifth standard – probably around 1987.
Our next-door neighbors were a Parsi family, and I have fond memories of Adil and Beena from my childhood. They were either in high school or college at the time. I especially loved the delicious aroma of vegetable pulav that would waft from their kitchen. The Parsi aunty was a school teacher. She had a tradition of creating rangoli designs outside her flat every day. Occasionally, I found myself on the receiving end of strong warnings when I accidentally stepped on her artwork. We also had a pleasant relationship with the Nambiar family, who lived on the second floor. Right next to their home lived Darshan—my childhood best friend.
They were among the few families in the entire apartment complex who owned a television. I often visited their home to watch the ASIAN GAMES, which were hosted in India for the first time in 1982 and featured the popular mascot ‘Appu.’ A few years later, Darshan and his parents bid farewell to Baroda.
Subsequently, another family moved into that flat, and we maintained a friendly relationship with them as well. My mother used to visit their home to see ‘mammy,’ and I can vividly recall mammy’s warm smile on her wrinkled face, adorned with a large, red ‘Bindi’ on her forehead.
I also remember the day Dad brought home a BPL stereo. I was absolutely thrilled—at first, I mistook it for a television set!
I was six years old when my brother was born. I still remember the flight to Kerala. I was curious to see the pilot and tried to peek into the cockpit, but had no luck. I loved the food they served on the flight and even took a few spoons home as souvenirs. At that time, it was my ardent dream to become a pilot. On our return trip to Baroda, we traveled alone. Dad met us later at the Bombay airport.
Vacations were a very special time for me. Every year, we traveled to Kottayam, and I especially loved the train journey—It was a 3 day, 2-night journey. My mom’s mother, whom I lovingly called Ammachy, was healthy and full of energy in those days. She was an excellent cook, and I always looked forward to the delicious dishes she prepared. I loved watching the ducks and hens roam around, and whenever I heard the hens clucking, I would rush to the cottage to collect freshly laid eggs.
I was very close to my dad during my childhood. Because of his work on company projects, he was often out of town and with us only for brief periods. Whenever he returned, I would eagerly search his luggage, hoping he had brought something for me. While he was home, he often helped me with math and other subjects.
Discipline mostly came from my mom—I remember getting frequent scoldings and the occasional beating for my mischief. But I don’t think my dad ever laid a hand on me.
My life revolved around my friends—Nilesh, Kunjan, Jigar, Milind, Ashish, Dolly, and Vivek. Chandu and Alpesh lived on the same floor as us, and I often visited their flat. Alpesh, our next-door neighbor, was the same age as me, and we spent a lot of time together.I used to attend Gujarati tuition on the third floor, along with Siji, Sona, Dolly, and Nilesh.
Cricket was our obsession. I was a decent player, and every evening, we’d gather outside the apartment or in the corridor on the 3rd floor for a match. The 4th floor was another spot we occasionally tried, but it never lasted long. Dolly’s neighbour would inevitably chase us away with a stick, shouting at us to stop making noise. So, the 3rd floor became our go-to cricket ground. Jigar’s mother on the third floor, used to ask us to go and play in some other floor, but we ignored her. Even in the school, we used to play cricket during PE time or if any of the teachers were absent.
Apart from cricket, I also loved playing lakhoti (marbles), aiming at other marbles in the circle, somewhat like a small game of golf. Two or more players are divided into two teams. A circle is drawn, and multiple marbles are placed inside it. Then, using the index finger of the left hand, the player pulls back a marble like a bowstring and releases it swiftly so that it hits the marbles inside the circle, knocking them out. The team that collects the most marbles wins the game. The thrill of aiming for that perfect shot, the clink of marbles colliding, and the pride of winning a match—it was fun! I remember once I lost the game, and I had to do “langdi” all the way from our apartment until the Jayratna shop and come back.
Another popular pastime was playing with spinning tops. I’d wind the string tightly around the top, then release it with a flick of the wrist, sending it spinning across the ground. Some of my friends were even more talented—they could scoop up the spinning top with the string and balance it on their palm while it was still in motion. Watching it whirl and hum in their hands felt like magic.
One of my fondest memories was renting a bicycle from Navapura. For just one rupee, I could ride for an entire hour. I remember one particular day when I got lost while exploring on my bike. Panic set in, but thankfully, some kind-hearted Muslims in the neighborhood noticed my distress and helped me find my way back to the apartment. Their kindness left a lasting impression on me, a reminder of the warmth and generosity of the community.
During school vacations, my friends and I would lose ourselves in hours of fun, playing games like carrom, chess, Monopoly, Snake and Ladder, ludo, and cards – charsobees, donkey, and judgment games.
Yet nothing could rival the electric thrill of an India-Pakistan cricket match. I’d be riveted to the television, pulse pounding with every delivery—each boundary sending waves of exhilaration through me. I’d be glued to the TV, my heart racing with every ball bowled and every boundary hit. The legends of those battles remain etched in my mind: Sunil Gavaskar, Sreekanth, Srinath, Kumble, Tendulkar, Vengsarkar, Kapil Dev, David Boon, Viv Richards, Malcom Marshall, Small, Curtly Ambrose, Miandad, Imran Khan, Rameez Raja. It was pure joy to watch cricket matches and celebrate India’s victories. 
We were fortunate to have Ashish and Dolly’s family living on the fourth floor. Like us, they were also from Kerala but were Hindus. We were regular guests at Onam sadhyas. I loved aunty’s kadla curry. During summer, I used to sleep with them on the terrace. Many families would sleep on the terrace to escape the summer heat. We played antakshiri at night.
We would go out together for movies, exhibitions, picnic, restaurants, and wedding ceremonies. During Diwali, we used to buy crackers from stalls in the Polo Ground. 
Rajdhani was my favorite restaurant. I loved their chapatis and Gujarati dishes. I would have a sumptuous meal every time I go there. Back then, dining out wasn’t as common as it is today, which made those occasions even more special and memorable.
School picnics were always a highlight of my childhood. We’d often head to Ajwa Nimeta, a scenic spot perfect for a day of fun and games.
During Ganesh Chaturti, we used to go out daily to see idols. Different parts of the city hosted colorful idols, some small, some huge. People stood in queues to have a glimpse of the idol.
The festival reached its peak on the seventh day, when crowds gathered to witness the immersion ceremony at Sursagar lake.
Uttarayan was my favorite festival with the music blasting all around. In the days leading up to it, I’d stock up on bright, colorful kites and dhori—the sharp, glass-coated thread used to battle rival kites in the sky. On the morning of the festival, you’d wake up to Bollywood songs echoing from rooftops across the neighborhood. The music created a lively backdrop to the festivities, making the atmosphere electric. The sky would soon come alive with kites of every color dancing in the breeze, and the air would buzz with the joyful shouts of victory each time a kite was sliced down. It wasn’t just about flying your kite—it was about keeping it in the sky while cutting down others. That’s where the sharpness of the thread made all the difference. The sharper your thread, the better the chances of kite staying airborne and winning the battles. But it came with a risk. Many ended the day with fingers badly cut from the abrasive thread.
I enjoyed “Phuga Agyaras”, people throwing water-filled balloons at each other.
There was something exhilarating about the thrill of dodging balloons and aiming for your friends. One time, I decided to experiment and put a water balloon in the freezer. To my surprise, it turned into a rock-solid iceball. I handed it to Paresh, who, without a second thought, hurled it up to the fourth floor. Unfortunately, it shattered Sivanandan’s kitchen window! For an entire month, I was too terrified to even step foot on the fourth floor, fearing the wrath of the aunty.
Navratri was my favorite festival during my childhood. For nine nights, the streets came alive as girls and women twirled in dazzling chaniya cholis. The men and boys, dressed in colorful dresses, matched their energy, clapping and dancing with enthusiasm. I would be eagerly looking forward for the dance to start during night. I remember the song “Tad Tad tali padey, tad tad tali padey”. The air pulsed with the rhythmic beats of folk music, creating an atmosphere charged with energy. I used to dance with the flatmates until it got over. Amma would be sleeping at home. Occasionally, we used to go to other places to watch garbas.
During the early eighties, we didn’t have a TV. I used to watch Doordarshan movies and serials from Dolly’s house. We would be at their house on Sundays. Their house was packed with families during movie time.
My friend Nilesh Shah often invited me to his home to watch Hindi films. Theirs was the only house in the entire apartment complex that boasted a Video Cassette Recorder (VCR) in the 1980s—a luxury at the time. I still remember going to a local video rental shop, deciding which film to watch, sliding the tape into the VCR, and losing ourselves in the enchanting world of Bollywood. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve watched every single Amitabh Bachchan movie of that era in their living room.
In 1986, our home got its first television set—a Dyanora. I was in fourth grade at the time, and it felt like we had unlocked a portal to a whole new world. With only Doordarshan as our channel (cable TV was still a distant dream), every show became an event. I eagerly tuned into my favorite serials like Malgudi Days, Nukkad, Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi, Karamchand, Hum Panch, Sigma, Vikram Aur Betal, Chitrahaar, Mungerilal Ke Haseen Sapne, Param Vir Chakra, and Fauji. And, of course, who could forget the thrill of Star-trek, and He-Man? Each show had its designated day and time, and I was glued to the screen for those precious 30 minutes, savoring every moment.
Every night, Mom would recite traditional Jacobite Church prayers. I used to read the Malayalam prayer verses in English. During my life in the Vithlesh Apartment, I don’t remember attending Church. There were no churches nearby.
To be continued….
