Ever thought the day you are born? Abstract thinking, as one might put , I tend to relax on my cozy chair sometimes after a day of daunting chemistry, thinking of my childhood - a little child who had made through twenty three years of his life. Sometimes, all the memories come back, suddenly to you, when you find yourself very insecure in your present world. Mum's care and affection, is something very near to the heart and soul I believe. Ghostly stories scared me, I remember, in a dark night with drizzles of raindrops on the window panes....I could always run to my mum to find the extra room of comfort and assurance cuddling her. She used to take me in her arms.... the most comfortable and cozy place one can be....where the darest devil cannot even touch you!
My childhood never really ended around my mum. It streched from the lushy green rice fields of my grandparents to the intriguing earthy smell after an evening strom on a hot summer day.
Its fascinating how poor people live their life, they are poor yet happy....grinning always as they take on their daily life.
It used to be a pleasant start in a day, round about 5 am, I used to brush my teeth with a twig from a tree and washed my face with the cold morning waters of the "Dighi". The maids went passed me with bamboo cartons on their head filled with fruits and veggies....I being a city boy used to stare with amazement....they were kind not to overlook me as I was rewarded with a few fruits and possibly some fresh vegetables! I used to run home in delight to show my valuable possessions. As the day progressed and the sun settled itself right on top of my head, in the woods I joined "Delbaharda" (as I used to call him) to catch wild hen. He was an old man of 60 years, yet he was strong enough to run and catch them. We the family, enjoyed a ravishing lunch with sweet dish cooked out of unripe mangoes.
I remember to sit beside the pond with a fishing rope while the sun makes its way to the horizon and the train zoom past with a rythm in far distance. At the dusk, the birds chirped as they returned home, tired they must be, the squirrels found their way to the big holes in the oak trees and the nearby villagers prepared for a cozy evening, lighting their mud heaped fire places to make dinner.
My childhood never really ended around my mum. It streched from the lushy green rice fields of my grandparents to the intriguing earthy smell after an evening strom on a hot summer day.
Its fascinating how poor people live their life, they are poor yet happy....grinning always as they take on their daily life.
It used to be a pleasant start in a day, round about 5 am, I used to brush my teeth with a twig from a tree and washed my face with the cold morning waters of the "Dighi". The maids went passed me with bamboo cartons on their head filled with fruits and veggies....I being a city boy used to stare with amazement....they were kind not to overlook me as I was rewarded with a few fruits and possibly some fresh vegetables! I used to run home in delight to show my valuable possessions. As the day progressed and the sun settled itself right on top of my head, in the woods I joined "Delbaharda" (as I used to call him) to catch wild hen. He was an old man of 60 years, yet he was strong enough to run and catch them. We the family, enjoyed a ravishing lunch with sweet dish cooked out of unripe mangoes.
I remember to sit beside the pond with a fishing rope while the sun makes its way to the horizon and the train zoom past with a rythm in far distance. At the dusk, the birds chirped as they returned home, tired they must be, the squirrels found their way to the big holes in the oak trees and the nearby villagers prepared for a cozy evening, lighting their mud heaped fire places to make dinner.
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