I was having a random conversation with an eight-year-old relative of mine, on our way home from his school, where I spent my early years some 20 years ago.

Upon interrogating about his favourite ‘break time’ sport, I was astonished that the little lad narrated a whole list of video games and told me his classmates and he spent the school half-time talking about these game series and comparing the points earned on these by each of them.

He complained that he was not very fond of break time as often the PT instructor forced the children to go out in school lawn for some physical activity, and he preferred staying in the classroom discussing Marvel’s Avengers and Super Mario.

This dialogue with the child took me down memory lane where I could vividly picture me and my friends anxiously looking at our wristwatches, waiting impatiently for the break hour to commence. The reason was our favourite outdoor games, which offered a refreshing change between the tedious study hours.

I still remember that upon ringing of recess gong, a crowd of cheeky little ‘captives’ would come rushing out of their classrooms. If I turn the pages of my memory book to almost two decades ago, I can clearly recall that a few of those youngsters spent the school break munching on eatables. The rest of them were seen utilising their stamina in outdoor sports.

I belonged to the second category. My mother was a working lady and we were punctual about breakfast since toddlerhood. Helping myself with a nourishing morning meal, I hardly ever felt starving by the break time and spent those 30 minutes playing.

I’ve a pretty vast recollection of the little sports we used to enjoy during recess. I always adored the game called ‘Home, garden and river.’ The uppermost of the stone steps of school corridor was called ‘home’; the second, ‘garden’; and then came ‘sea’.

Sometimes, when we were lucky enough to find a staircase deserted, the game was extended by naming the lowest step ‘ocean’.

We took turns, commanding our playmates to hop up and down by yelling “Go home,” “Now come to garden!” and “Dive in the river!”

I remember attempting to jump directly from home to ocean; I broke my crown hitting my head on the stone step. I was bandaged, sent home immediately, and tolerated an extremely cross mum all day long. But the very next day, I was hopping up and down the steps with the bandaged head and a bruised elbow.

Another favourite recess pastime was “kho kho.” I don’t know who named it, but the game was really fun-filled. The children were divided into two teams. The toss winning group sat down in a queue, leaving little spaces in between. The other team ran and an active member of the sitting team tried to chase them. The child getting caught dropped out of the game. When exhausted, the child taking the turn could give a push to any of their sitting partners who would then try their luck chasing the rival team.

We also enjoyed playing traditional games like ‘hide and seek’ and ‘catch me if you can’ (“pakran pakrai” in kiddy language).

The school lawns were always lush green, blossoming with seasonal flowers and creepers. There was a variety of strange insects because of the widespread greenery. The girls hiding behind a tree trunk or shrubs often came back shouting at the sight of a cockroach, a giant moth or a honeybee. Once I was taking a turn in hide and seek when a group of friends came running from behind the branches of a thick mango tree. Freaked with terror, they explained that they had witnessed a gigantic lizard on the branches. We quickly narrated the tale to our PT master who, upon thorough examination of the reptile, revealed that the ‘ghost lizard’ was in fact a chameleon living on the tree.

Another famous game was actually a little trick played by the PT master on us. Keeping in mind the innate nature of primary graders being jealous of the opposite gender, he used to divide the class into two teams: boys and girls. Each team was assigned the task of collecting goodie wrappers and dry garbage from the two school lawns. In the end, he would inspect the work and announce the winning team of ‘Let’s tidy up’ game. We (girls) were often declared the champions.

I was also amused by a quite well-known game called ‘The London stop’. The participants acted as a statue when the child taking turn finished shouting, “L-O-N-D-O-N London.” He/ she then tried to make the ‘statues’ laugh. The kid unable to hold their laughter was then directed to take the next turn.

Almost after a decade, I visited my school to pick that young cousin of mine. I felt gloomy at the sight of a whole block of classrooms that has been added. One of the two lush green lawns is completely gone. This transformation, in my view, would be an insignificant one for children of today whose favourite pastimes do not need any playgrounds. As a kid growing up in late 1990s, that golden period is still pictured in bold colours on the canvas of my mind, and I realise that those little sports were, beyond question, a priceless asset in the bundle of my childhood memories. I strongly feel that because of the accelerating trend of gadgets nowadays, the children of current generation might grow up without relishing these healthy outdoor sports.

The writer is an ACCA global place   winner (second in the world and first in Pakistan), and an author, currently serving as an executive accountant in a reputed   public sector organisation