It's perhaps the President's recent visit to China that brings back these memories. Or maybe I just needed that excuse for a walk down the memory lane. Long years ago, when I was in school, everything seemed to be perfectly fine in our young world. It was in the spectacular steel township of Jamshedpur that I studied. At a beautiful two-storeyed, E-shaped school with two gates. We had a sprawling playground. There was a kindergarten section too, with monkey-bars, swings, slides, roundabout and tiny see-saws all around. All of a sudden, we noticed a dramatic change in the political scene. The cinema houses were advertising clips of India and China coming together in friendship. 'Hindi-Chini bhai-bhai' was the caption. We students didn't really understand the intense significance of the development. The Chinese students in our school suddenly became outstanding, and we focussed our attention on them. Then came that disastrous announcement in 1961: China has attacked India! After the widespread propaganda of bhai-bhai, it was a bolt from the blue. Dramatically the atmosphere changed. A certain seriousness descended on everyone. War, with all its consequences, was discussed ad nauseam. Students who were till then unconcerned about political happenings all of a sudden became avid readers of many newspapers. Radio news was followed with great enthusiasm. Knowing the latest on the war became a matter of prestige. The child who wasn't up-to-date on that great event was looked down upon. Often she was labelled 'unpatriotic'. Notice boards were filled with pictures, captions, headlines and important data. Everyone studied the chronology of events as though for a quiz contest. We cheered with pride at the performance of our soldiers. When parents discussed war, children left their games and came over to listen. A visible change was seen in the commercial scenario as well. There were all types of violent toys -- guns, tanks, soldiers. There were plastic varieties for those who couldn't afford the more expensive metal ones. There were also mechanical ones, with sound and visual effects, for those who had the money to pamper their offerings. Such was the fever that gripped the population that everyone from eight to 80 was afflicted. In the nursery class of our school were 25, highly patriotic, emotionally charged three-year-old citizens of India. They were in a frenzy because the previous day our soldiers had taken a licking from the enemy. They were bursting with enthusiasm to show their love for Mother India. There were some 10 minutes for the class to begin. Then who should walk in but Yoko Xee, a cute, cuddly Chinese girl. Our young patriots saw red. With maniacal yells, they rushed towards her and bashed her on the head with a wooden slate. Yoko definitely was not prepared for such a welcome from her loving classmates. She fell down unconscious, not knowing what hit her. There was a pool of blood around her. The others who were advancing towards the 'enemy' stood stock-still. Blood! This they hadn't been prepared for. There were pitiful cries of fear. The teacher and headmistress rushed in to note the tragedy and take Yoko to the hospital. The class, immediately after, was enlightened about Yoko being an Indian Chinese and no enemy. Needless to say we all poured into the hospital with flowers, fruits, apologies and genuine love. I wonder where Yoko is today -- does the news of the presidential visit bring back that ugly memory to her as well? Caroline Lira grew up to become a school teacher. Tell us what you think of this diary
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