Outing Sunday

Boys from the first division were allowed outing Sundays when we could officially leave the premises to visit near family who lived close by. Well I had an aunt down Chinkpoli road em route to Veronica street. When I did visit her she would give me a real fantastic lunch ( and you know how much a hungry boarder can eat). I had cousins living around on D'montee street and elsewhere, but I had other plans. I was intrigued by things mechanical and by things that fly and always dreamed that one day I would build machines. My class work books were filled with drawings of contraptions and so I got my ear twisted quite often. So my outing Sundays were spent at the Parel railway yard watching those guys with black grease all over, work on the locomotives as I made drawing of the wheels and other parts. Another favorite was the aerodrome as it was in the 50s with its semicircular hangars and with the Dakotas parked nearby. Then one day a kindly guy saw me staring at the aircraft through the barbed wire and offered to take me to see the things that fly. He took me into a Dakota and even seated me in the pilot's bucket seat. Wow, I was blown and dreamed ever of flying those aircraft one day. But as you already know, man proposes but GOD disposes, and I can tell you now at the ripe age of +63 that its a fact. As life would have it I was told 18 was too old to join the air force via kadakvasla and in any case my mother could not afford the fees for training as a commercial pilot. So be it (Amen). Life had other plans for me (read that as GOD had other plans for me ). Anyhow after a few sorties in a Piper over Bombay I was gently informed that my vision was astigmatic. Yes, outing Sundays were for me a chance to explore, and explore I did. Boy did I have fun. Then I met my soul mate, his name was Manek Despande who was put in the boarding to curb his wild tendencies (What!). Well we both read Air Ace comics and knew a lot about aircraft and both planned to be jet pilots. But Manek died. Much later of course. And I met him just before he died. We spoke of nothing but planes. Our eyes were kinda moist. I knew he would fly but I'd have to wait my turn.
Other times Land's End (queer name) was my refuge, just sitting on the rocks and watching the waves slap them seemed as if the waves figured that if you slap them often enough they would awaken from their stillness. Perhaps the waves were not aware that stillness is a spiritual quality. I know what you're thinking. like didn't you go to a movie or a date. No I didn't, but I had imagination and many dreams and I loved to fantasize. I seemed happy with my own company. Now as I look back, my eyes grow moist again.