Phantom Candy

Every night, I take a short walk down the lane of my childhood. Open the cupboard of memories, scan the various stories and events stored, and pick one as a bedtime story for my child. 

‘Childhood story’ as Trayi calls It. This was something Trayi decided she wanted a few years ago -instead of the traditional, fictional, bed-time story. Since then, every night, Ajit and I take turns, and unwrap a little memory. Occasionally, I embellish it mildly for effect; other times, its colors are muted. The purpose is to make the memory something an 8 year old will savor. And when the avid listener is your wide eyed 8 year old daughter, even minutiae that found their place in your memory box quite by accident, sometimes grow in significance.

One such story recently was about my ‘favorite’ candy as a kid her age. I cannot really be certain what my favourite candy was: Was it Cadbury’s Éclairs, or was it Ravalgaon’s Blue wrapped candy? Or was it Cadbury’s Gems?  But if memory was the decision maker, then it would undoubtedly be Phantom’s Cigarette shaped mint candies. Which child of my generation does not remember the Red Box with the skull (as I discovered later - a hooded guy) on its cover – its very appearance announcing that its contents were deliciously forbidden? And the candies themselves – shaped to mimic cigarettes-10 to a pack.

I have not forgotten my first Phantom candy experience – holding a counterfeit cigarette took away none of the thrill of stepping – albeit briefly – into very adult shoes; the sense that one was tasting Eve’s forbidden apple. And this little event imprinted itself firmly in my memory – and got pulled out, dusted and presented with much fanfare and a tad bit of nostalgia to Trayi.

As with several of the things  from the 80’s that died or fell by the wayside, with time – Doordarshan TV, AIR Radio, Chitramala, Ambassadaor Cars - I assumed the Phantom Candy was dead. Replaced by jazzier, imported chocolates and candies that rule the roost today. I never looked for it, but I never accidently bumped into it, either.

But, after this anecdote had been pulled from the bottom and placed atop the reminiscence pile, Trayi and I now wanted to check if Phantom Candy was still in business. We happened to be loitering in a college student area one day soon after – and suddenly Trayi demanded we check for this Candy-Relic. It was a small store, run by a young guy, and I went in –very tentatively tried to explain what I was seeking. I was completely anticipating a blank stare, when the guy opened his shelf and placed the pack in front of me - ‘Last one in stock’ he said.

Suddenly I was 8 again – such was my excitement. Quickly, we opened the pack, Trayi and I, and pretended that we were smoking a ciggie each. And then, we frolicked across the road, two excited girls, daughter and mother. One feeling the forbidden thrill of being an adult and the other, the harmless joy of being a kid again.

 Will this simple incident survive, as Trayi’s mind picks and chooses memories to store and memories to cast away? Will it lose out to the infinitely more varied and colourful experiences her childhood has had the relative privilege of having?  I cannot be certain.

But I do know that a prized new memory has already been created for me. When, for a few precious moments, my child and I shared more than a candy – when we crossed the barriers of time and inhabited our childhoods simultaneously.