Building a Time Machine

One of the most exciting things about Kreeda, has been listening to people share their memories of play. It all started one day, when my father had come home, and we had just received the prototype of the Bambaram (top). Like an excited little boy, he took it from me, took the cord, wound it expertly around the Bambaram and flipped it to the floor. As the Bambaram spun on the nail, you could see the childlike glee on my father’s face. It led to a whole evening of memories of how he used to play as a child. I listened, fascinated, because although in theory I knew my father was once a child, there was something completely different to hearing the actual stories. It set off in my mind a train of thinking that it would be absolutely wonderful to capture these memories.

Kreeda has taken numerous initiatives to capture these memories of people. Among the first has been visits to old age homes. Games are collected and a group of volunteers visit an old age home to play with the residents there. Most of them are excited to play because they don’t want to remember unhappy memories and they enjoy the games. Some watch and some talk. Two memories stand out for me.

The first was a lady who, after playing Pallanguzhi started laughing and telling us about how she grew up in Trichy on the banks of the Cauvery. One day she and her friend were sitting on the river side and playing the game. As the game came to an end, she felt around beside her for the game pieces she had collected to count them and decide who was the winner. She realized to her horror that the water had washed away her game pieces. She was convinced she was the winner, but as she could not prove it, her friend claimed to have won the game. She laughed and said, “I definitely won that game. She was lying. She was lucky that the river took away my game pieces.” It was an amusing memory and from the old, wrinkled face peeped out the laughing eyes and clear, impish smile of a young girl with a whole life ahead of her.

Another memory was at another old age home. An old lady was sitting in the corner watching everyone play. After some time, she called me and patted the floor by her side. From the pallu of her saree, she took out four cowrie shells. She started to tell me about how she used to play with her grandson many, many, many years ago. They had had a deal that if he won, she would buy him a chocolate. So, the indulgent grandmother cheated, so she lost very, very often and could buy her grandson a chocolate. She had lost touch with her family. She had no idea where her grandson was now. All she had were four cowrie shells to remind her of those wonderful memories.

Tears filled my eyes as I heard this story and I talk about it everywhere, in the hope that one day, somewhere, maybe the grandson will read the story and think about his grandmother as often as she thinks about him.

In an ongoing initiative, Kreeda has created and circulated twenty journals that have travelled to many parts of the world where people are putting down their memories of play. I had a chance to take a few glimpses at the journal in New Zealand a short while ago and was fascinated to see memories from an immigrant from Turkey, as well as Maori people.

I look forward to these books coming back so I can revel in a glorious ocean of memories and stories of how people played. At one old age home this very military-looking gentleman enjoyed playing all our games. As we wound up, he came to me and said, “Ma’am, I salute you.”

I started to laugh, and I said, “For bringing these games for you to play?”

“No,” he replied, “For building a time machine. It has taken me back to my childhood.”

For me a time machine is just another avatar of Kreeda.