I brushed aside the dust that had settled on the very books I considered priceless gems as a kid. And as I turned the fragile looking sepia pages, I lose myself again. The comic books my mum has very sweetly bound them tightly. They bring back memories of holidays and hot summers. Faint recollections of how we would sit up late at night, for my Ammavan (Uncle) to get us comics. And we would get lost in Phantom's world, travel with him deep in the African jungles and read old jungle sayings with rapt attention.I wanted to be Rex and have an uncle who has a wolf for a pet, has a beautiful skull shaped cave, is friends with African Presidents and a horse called Devil. I wanted to be close to Kit and Heliose, Phantom's twins, hear them giggle around. Lose myself in those stories where Phantom-Mr Walker (for he was the ghost who walks), lets his fist do the talking! This was of course much before you were caught into the Enid Blyton kinda reading. These comics provided the much needed breather and man did they do their job well. It was the perfect accompaniment to your breakfast snack.
Mandrake the magician, hypotised me through the warmth of a bad summer and transported me to a world where Theron, Narda and Hojo would tackle the evil cackling cobra. Summer holidays would be quite not the same without the quintessential fights with my siblings over who gets to read the comics first. Yes summer hols were all about, losing yourself in those thought bubbles. And wondering if its possible to just fly off and take off to another planet, re-energise and fly off again. Just like Superman did.
Try to solve high profile cases with Bahadur, the detective, here my memory fades slightly because I dont remember what was it that Bahadur actually did. I do remember that he was somehow connected to the Indian police and he dishum-dishumed his way through the goons who were out to sell the country or terrorise the country!
Today I laugh at myself and I may sound very naive now as I say this but I used to love at Chacha Choudhry. I would actually believe that his brain works faster than a computer. That Sabu was the strongest guy around. Although even as a toddler, I thought his dressing sense was quite immodest.
This was way before we wondered why there is an unbearable lightness in just being or when we went through gibberish in the clockwork orange or when we traversed through the history of the fictional town of Macondo or when we read Maugham's wanderings about Larry.Its when such sepia toned images of your childhood beckons and you wonder how simple and beautiful those days were, magical and with happy endings. Its the humid summers once again, yes there is no comic book to hide behind, one of those days where you cannot but be nostalgic and allow the overwhelming knowledge of age catching up with you, take over you.And you know you have to brave the sweat and the grime and wade through humans jostling for space in over crowded Churchgate locals and return to reality.
first published:April 02, 2007, 16:31 ISTlast updated:April 02, 2007, 16:31 IST
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I brushed aside the dust that had settled on the very books I considered priceless gems as a kid. And as I turned the fragile looking sepia pages, I lose myself again. The comic books my mum has very sweetly bound them tightly. They bring back memories of holidays and hot summers. Faint recollections of how we would sit up late at night, for my Ammavan (Uncle) to get us comics. And we would get lost in Phantom's world, travel with him deep in the African jungles and read old jungle sayings with rapt attention.I wanted to be Rex and have an uncle who has a wolf for a pet, has a beautiful skull shaped cave, is friends with African Presidents and a horse called Devil. I wanted to be close to Kit and Heliose, Phantom's twins, hear them giggle around. Lose myself in those stories where Phantom-Mr Walker (for he was the ghost who walks), lets his fist do the talking! This was of course much before you were caught into the Enid Blyton kinda reading. These comics provided the much needed breather and man did they do their job well. It was the perfect accompaniment to your breakfast snack.
Mandrake the magician, hypotised me through the warmth of a bad summer and transported me to a world where Theron, Narda and Hojo would tackle the evil cackling cobra. Summer holidays would be quite not the same without the quintessential fights with my siblings over who gets to read the comics first. Yes summer hols were all about, losing yourself in those thought bubbles. And wondering if its possible to just fly off and take off to another planet, re-energise and fly off again. Just like Superman did.
Try to solve high profile cases with Bahadur, the detective, here my memory fades slightly because I dont remember what was it that Bahadur actually did. I do remember that he was somehow connected to the Indian police and he dishum-dishumed his way through the goons who were out to sell the country or terrorise the country!
Today I laugh at myself and I may sound very naive now as I say this but I used to love at Chacha Choudhry. I would actually believe that his brain works faster than a computer. That Sabu was the strongest guy around. Although even as a toddler, I thought his dressing sense was quite immodest.
This was way before we wondered why there is an unbearable lightness in just being or when we went through gibberish in the clockwork orange or when we traversed through the history of the fictional town of Macondo or when we read Maugham's wanderings about Larry.Its when such sepia toned images of your childhood beckons and you wonder how simple and beautiful those days were, magical and with happy endings. Its the humid summers once again, yes there is no comic book to hide behind, one of those days where you cannot but be nostalgic and allow the overwhelming knowledge of age catching up with you, take over you.And you know you have to brave the sweat and the grime and wade through humans jostling for space in over crowded Churchgate locals and return to reality.
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