So I’m getting to a point where I’m not sure if it’s Tuesday or Wednesday, but my childhood memories are sparkling clear. And one of the high points of my childhood was Dharwar (later called Dharwad), where we spent all our May school holidays—as I recently shared with my mid-day gang, with current and ex-mid-day connections. I still have mid-day friends from a previous life, when I worked for Sunday mid-day from 1988-1990, when the office was at Tardeo.

In my memories, sensations and feelings often have more clarity than facts. The smell of the horse of the tonga as we drove home from Dharwar station. The way the horse elegantly tossed his/her mane this way and that in the breeze. The lovely clip-clop music as they trotted down the streets. My sister Akku and I would sit in the ‘front seat’ with the tongawallah, our feet parked in sweet-smelling hay, that would be the horse’s lunch. I’d promptly grab the whip from the startled tongawallah, and order him in Hinglish, “Ghode ko nahin marneka, OK?” I may have been six or seven and love how bossy I was when it came to people being mean to animals. “Ice Factory,” Amma would say, and the tonga would set off.