Joe... Joe... G.I. Joe…..

G.I. Joe just got released a few days back and hearing about it I remembered the toons that I used to be possessed by as a young tier-II city boy. Now this is a fav old remembrance thingy between the four of us cousins… So whenever the spirits are high and the loud music has given way to nostalgic cherishing of memories…. We almost never ever forget to revisit the GI Joe trek that we designed and implemented with “pepsi-fizz excitement” (this is a term coined by my Uncle, especially for ever-over-enthusiastic know-nothing teenagers that we foolishly turned out to look like).

The gang.
The eldest, gutsy lad “S” had himself electrified by managing to be struck by an iron rod with 11000 watts passing into his intestines (btw he was just trying to catch up with a Kite J). NDE (near-death-experience). Vacationed in the hospital for half a year….
M: restless and naughty, centre of a nuisance, found himself in such kinda situations often.
G: beautiful, blue-eyed boy of the group who could get touchy at times, but never gave up on any fun, how-ever dirty it might sound.
Youngest and certainly not the least, P: fair n cute, challengingly sporty, agreeing to any plans to prove his worth, calling the rest by names when the usual practice was “bhaiya”.

So here goes the adventure tale:

One fine day of some long-gone summer vacation (meeting at summer vacations was a trend “then”), the four of watched G. I. Joe. Excited (* pepsi-fizz) one of us spotted a hillock, from our 1st floor house-balcony, that we’d been eying for quite some time. It was decided that we leave for the god-forsaken hillock and find some adventure enroute.

Colorful shorts and tee’s, white Canvas shoes and a Hero-BMX bicycle made for the most appropriate gear. We split into two groups: S-M & G-P. Each group got to ride the “bike” for a certain distance/time. The other group ran along…. Yes they just ran!

The war cry was simple: “Joe Joe… G I Joe…..”

We left the tarred road 15 mins after start & took the muddy trail. Exchanging the bike to enjoy the “country-drive”, we made up all gossip for self-motivation. With each kilometer covered the frequency of exchanging the bike kept increasing… and the hillock seemed “just as far”. It got tougher with the Sun trying to beat us to the mud. This was supposed to be the route to the village from where our maid “Ramvati” came. The 2 odd people we came across did not reflect this fact though! Subtle requests for exchanging the bike transformed to loud battle-like arguments amidst the huff-puff running to catch-up with the bike (just so that the other team would not drive an extra decameter).

By the time the hillock appeared near, all four of us were dragging ourselves and the bike… walking towards the “castle to be won”. Mud filled the air and our heads alike. Barren land with thorn bushes marked the panorama of the hillock. Thirsty, Sweating and dehydrated, all we found on the slope of the hillock was holes made by birds, being used as nests and all kinds of shit (buffaloes, dogs, goats and horses). A few dry sticks from the trees did make for an enjoying swordfight that lasted a few minutes. None of us was so much of a nature lover to enjoy the flora and fauna of the place (as if there was much of it anyways ;p). We spotted our home from atop the hillock and “discovered” a short-cut through some bushes, which could be maneuvered (and all four of us agreed that was the best way home).

With no village within sight we decided to head towards the bushes, which we believed, cut-across would take us directly towards our township where we could climb a wall and budge back to known territory. Fate with us, as we approached the bushes their size seemed to be considerably taller than us. Another blow to our planning still did not discourage us from carrying the bike on our shoulders and venturing into the bushes. A few insect bites and some rashes is what one would definitely not be scared of (till the results manifested later). But what took us by surprise was the marsh that awaited us. Through the thick of bushes, with our feet foot deep into the marsh we found ourselves on the bank of a big stinking pond with tall cranes grinning at us.

We decided to use all our collective intelligence to move along the periphery of the pond to reach the other end and move on victoriously towards our home. After all, this definitely was “adventure”. Traversing the un-explored virgin terrain, we emerged out of the bushes only to find that we had covered too much of the periphery and would have to trace back some distance to find out if we knew how we could get back home. And all this time we still kept “exchanging” the bike between our groups, only this time it was each group wanting to give away the bike asap. Finally we found the way to the same old muddy track that we’d trodden an hour back….

Another 40 minutes of dragging ourselves and the god-damned bike and we were standing in front of our place. Mom seemed waiting for us in the balcony. Perhaps, we did not realize the mud and marsh on our clothes and hair made us look like filthy ugly frogs.

All she could do was yell at us “DO NOT CLIMB UP THE STAIRS, GO WASH YOURSELVES AT THE HANDPUMP AND THEN YOU SHALL BE ALLOWED INSIDE”.

“Joe.. Joe.. G I joe…….”

And we never went G-I-joe-ing again!!