By Suresh Pattali
When I think back, growing up in the 1970s was like serving many years of hard labour. In an impoverished hamlet of India, where life and existence solely depended on the elements, even kids from middle-class families like mine were not spared of hardship. When short on cash, my mother would pluck coconuts, load a sack full of them on my head and would order, “Go, sell it at any tea shop and bring the cash.” She would set the minimum retail price before pushing me into the wilderness of the beach and I would knock on the back door of every shop to get the right price. I would avoid the front doors to escape dawdling fishermen who would scandalise me for peddling coconuts.
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