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Maneyata

Rains bring so many childhood memories as gifts every year. Its cozy pitter-patter makes me want to curl up and think about all the times I and my cousin, both very young at about 8-10 years of age, played 'maneyata.' I would be the husband once and she the wife. I would order her to make breakfast and eat it. I would act as if I was dressed in formals and carry a suitcase and go to office. She would act as if she cooked, cleaned and did household work till I came home for supper. Then the next imaginary day, our roles would be reversed. It would be my turn to be the wife and she, the husband. After two or three imaginary days of such routine, we would get bored and change games.
I still remember our suspicion that our cook would spy on our games from the attic, the wooden floorboards of which had tiny slits in them, enough to peep and watch our games of innocence and laugh.
I imagined for many years that he laughed at us and our games which started looking silly as we grew older, but strangely closer to reality in the way spousal relationships largely exist in the society.

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