Recollections of Childhood
I was born about 17 years ago in a village in the district of Lakshmipur. My father was a schoolteacher there. Our family consisted of my parents, my sister, my grandmother, and myself. My earliest memory is of my grandmother holding me in her arms and softly chanting a nursery rhyme. She was very fond of me, and I always found great pleasure in her company.
My next memory is of a small park near our house where the children of the neighborhood gathered every afternoon. I became close friends with some of them, and that friendship continues to this day. It was there that I first saw a bear and a monkey. A man was showing tricks with them. Although I was afraid of those animals, I enjoyed watching their playful pranks very much.
Another important memory is my first day at school when I was six years old. When my father took me to the headmaster, my heart was pounding with fear. But the headmaster’s smiling face and kind words made me feel at ease. He asked me my name and some questions, and I answered them well. Then I was admitted to class one. The warm welcome from my classmates soon chased away all my fears.
Outside school, I often remember an old neighbor who used to gather us around and tell stories about great men of our country. However, the most painful memory is the death of my mother when I was barely eight years old. Whenever her loving face and sweet smile come to my mind, I feel utterly forlorn. It is a wound that can never be healed.
Since then, I have grown into a young man, but I still cherish the sweet memories of my childhood spent in the charming environment of my village. When asked if I would like to be a child again, my firm answer is “yes.”
