Summers of contentment

When I was a child, my father quietly introduced me to the habit of reading by bringing home a newspaper every day. During summer vacations, we would gather the weekly children’s supplements from past issues and bind them into a single book. Those bound pages felt like a treasure.

Now, I find myself sharing those same stories with my child, who eagerly studies the pictures and pieces together meaning in their own way. In those moments, the past gently meets the present.

Summer vacations, in those days, were never meant to be spent in one place. They were a time for visiting grandparents, cousins, uncles, and aunts. Each visit carried a quiet excitement, and every farewell came with affection, often in the form of a new dress or a small sum of money slipped into our hands. I would travel to my father’s cousins, who lived in a small town, while my cousins from our native village would come to our home, which lies somewhere in between. For each of us, it was a world waiting to be discovered.

The days unfolded with visits to temples, outings to dams and parks, and the occasional climb up a small hill. In the village, we made pananga vandi (a small cart made from palmyra fruit) and raced them with great seriousness, carefully tying knots so they would not come undone. At a friend’s house, glasses of fresh juice offered sweet relief from the heat.

We did not have many toys, but we never felt their absence. Goli (marbles), paper balls tied with rubber bands, and a restless imagination were enough to fill our days. A bath at the pumpset was both play and refreshment. At night, we would spread mats in the open and lie under the sky, talking until sleep quietly took over.

Village life had its own quiet richness. Fresh milk straight from the cow and small, thoughtful treats made everything special. In our home, we usually had only rice and did not prepare idli batter. Yet, every now and then, my grandmother would walk to a neighbouring house that made idlis and chutney and bring them back just for us. That simple act carried a taste far beyond the food itself. Seasonal delights such as ice apple added to the joy, while small tasks like drying groundnuts, plucking chillies, collecting firewood became shared moments with our grandparents.

As children, we did not always recognise the value of those days. But time, in its quiet way, teaches us. Today, many children spend their summers in structured camps, learning new skills and routines. While such experiences have their place, they cannot quite replace the warmth of relationships, shared laughter, and the unspoken comfort of being surrounded by family. Summer vacations were never just a break. They were, in their own gentle way, lessons in life, love, and belonging.

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