TOP

TOP

In my childhood, the rainy season brought many Hindu festivals esp. in the month of Saawan in the Hindu calendar.  I always enjoyed the outings with the family, many of them on the bicycles, to various places of worship, best of all to the river Narmada for a holy bath. Sometimes the ladies sat in a cycle rickshaw and I had the choice of riding the bicycle with my dad or sitting in the cycle rickshaw with mom and granny. Due to the Spartan seating arrangements on offer on the bike (with possibility of serious damage to one’s posterior), as compared to the soft lap of granny, I normally opted for the three wheeler ride. My dad’s vigorous peddling however posed a serious threat of facing the ignominy of being overtaken by him and my other equally enthusiastic uncles on their bikes. It was a tricky choice which one should not be required to make at such a tender age.

          Of course, apart from the swim in the river, I was more interested in the various goodies available at these festive gatherings. My favourite item was a pair of goggles made from coloured cellophane papers fitted into the rings of hard paper with a rubber band for tying it around the head. Obviously, due to the fragility of the material used and the rough treatment it got from me and my cousin Parag, the goggles never came back intact. Then there were cheap plastic mouth organs which were normally vetoed by the senior members of the family, due to the serious threat posed to the noise level of the universe.  

          During one of these outings, I was introduced to the magical world of the ‘top’, a simple wooden item, conical in shape, with an iron nail at the bottom and a rounded head. The colour of the top was a bright red or green which became indistinguishable after weathering some usage.  There were ribs on the slanting middle of the top where one had to wind a thread, first around the nail and then around the rest of the body. The whole routine was quite complicated.  Then the thread had to be pulled up with a jerk while flinging the top down, to give a spin to the top.

          The thread had to be of a special quality. It resembled the wick used in oil lamps, hence, was quite expensive. Dad gamely offered to make a homemade substitute which he expertly made by rolling old rags across his thigh. But somehow it was not the same. I had to challenge him to make the top spin with his homemade thread, to force him to buy me the real thing.

Initially, the entire rigmarole appeared too tough to master. I kept staring wistfully at the big boys who could not only spin the top effortlessly but also, make it do many tricks like picking it up while still spinning, on their palms, throwing it up and down etc. Sometimes, if they were in a good mood, they would put the spinning top on my tiny palm. The tickling sensation of a whirling top on the palm and the thrill of holding it made me ecstatic. Later, after hours and hours of frustrating attempts, the top suddenly started responding to my command and actually spun majestically before slowing down and eventually rolling away on its side. When spinning the top became easy, I moved towards more esoteric tricks and the culmination of the entire experience was throwing the top down and flicking the thread expertly before it lands on the ground and voila you have a spinning top on your palm.

          Boys played many games with the tops, but once the thrill of making it spin in various expert ways was over, I soon lost interest in it. Then on, it was a forgotten art practised only occasionally to train the younger boys or impress the girls who always swooned when I demonstrated my special tricks.

          Then I discovered marbles. But that is another story.