Vacation time

Kittu was thrilled. Vacation time had finally arrivedhis first real break after a grueling year of school. Kittu, or Krishna Prasad Naidu as his teachers called him, was a lively student in the Lower Kindergarten at St. Patrick’s School in Deoli. Somehow, despite his endless chatter and mischief, he had managed to survive a whole year in class. Sister Alphonse, his stern class teacher, had pulled his ear nearly every single day, scolding him for talking to his best friend, David, who shared the bench with him. But now all of that was behind him.

It was vacation timetwo whole months of freedom. No school, no uniforms, no books, and best of all, his ears were safe from Sister Alphonse’s iron grip. Life couldn’t get any better. Kittu’s father, Captain R.K. Naidu had managed to get his annual leave approved, and the whole familyKittu, his parents, and his elder brother Shyamu, or Shyama Prasad Naiduwere heading to their grandparents’ homes.

Captain Naidu’s parents lived in Mumbai, a city once known as Bombay, in a small flat in Goregaon. They had moved there from a village in Andhra Pradesh many years ago. Shyamala’s parents, on the other hand, were Maharashtrians, long settled in Mumbai. Their marriage had been a love match, much to the dismay of both families. But the birth of Shyamu had begun to heal old wounds, and Kittu’s arrival had sealed the truce.

“I don’t want to spend too much time at your parents’ place. Your mother and I never get along,” Shyamala grumbled as they packed for the trip. Captain Naidu, accustomed to these complaints, simply nodded.

“They love the boys,” he said, hoping to pacify her.

That much was true; the grandparents adored their grandsons, even if old grudges between the adults still simmered beneath the surface. After some negotiation, Shyamala and Captain Naidu decided they would split their time evenly between both families.

Captain Naidu’s father was a retired railway station master, a man of strict habits. He woke up, ate, and slept at precise times every day. His wife, a retired schoolteacher, was just as rigid. Their home was a place of discipline, where young R.K. Naidu had developed the habits that later led him to a career in the Army. In contrast, Shyamala’s parents were laid-back. Her father ran a grocery shop, and her mother was a homemaker. Their home was a world without rules: you ate when you were hungry, slept when you were tired, and woke up whenever you pleaseda lifestyle that drove the disciplined Naidus crazy.

As the car pulled up in front of Captain Naidu’s parents’ flat, Mr. K.R. Naidu, with his imposing mustache and stern demeanor, greeted them loudly. “Malini, the children are here!” he bellowed, as if making an official proclamation. Kittu and Shyamu, still groggy from the long two-day train journey, shuffled out reluctantly. The stern-looking grandfather scooped them up in a stiff hug and ushered them inside while Captain Naidu and Shyamala followed, carrying the luggage.

“How many days of leave do you have?” Naidu Senior asked as soon as they stepped inside.

“Forty-five days,” Captain Naidu replied. “The boys have two months off.”

Silence filled the room, awkward and heavy. Shyamala forced a smile at her mother-in-law, who didn’t bother to return it. Shyamala sighed inwardly. ‘This is going to be a long week,’ she thought.

A week later Shyamu’s eyes lit up when he spotted something new. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing excitedly.

It was a televisionan object of great fascination for the boys, especially since their father had steadfastly refused to buy one.
“It’s not good for the children,” Captain Naidu would always say.
But here, in the chaos of their maternal grandparents’ home, the rules were different. The TV flickered on, and within minutes, the boys were glued to the antics of Tom and Jerry. Their laughter echoed through the house, filling it with a joy that had been missing. Even Captain Naidu had to admit he had never seen his sons this happy.

“Where do you expect them to play?” Shyamala pointed out when her husband expressed concern about their screen time.
She pulled back the curtains, revealing the cramped surroundings outside her parents’ flatconcrete, cars, and not a playground in sight.

“That’s the sad reality of Mumbai,” Captain Naidu sighed. “No open spaces for kids.”

The days flew by, filled with cartoons, snacks, and the rare freedom to laze around. But soon, they had to switch homes, moving to the stricter environment of Captain Naidu’s parents. There, the TV was replaced by stacks of books, and the boys had to find ways to entertain themselves that didn’t involve chasing cartoon cats and mice.

The vacation ended too quickly, and before they knew it, the family was back home, far from the excitement of Mumbai. As they settled back into their routine, Shyamu brought up the one topic that had been on his mind ever since.

“Mummy, can we buy a TV?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.

Shyamala shook her head. “You both need to focus on your studies. Watching TV will only distract you.”

“What are we supposed to study?” Kittu asked, frowning.

“Your school books, of course,” Shyamala replied.

Kittu thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I went to LKG for a whole year. I didn’t learn much there anywayjust watched a ray of sunlight every day and talked to David.”

Shyamala looked at him, exasperated but amused. “Well, maybe this year you’ll learn a little more.”

As the days slipped back into routine, Kittu’s ears were safe once more, but his mind wandered back to those carefree days of vacation, when life was filled with laughter, no rules, and the flickering magic of a forbidden TV screen.