Recollections of Your Childhood: Those Golden Days We Can Never Get Back
[Notes: Introduction-your parents-your grandmother-any painful or tragic event.] I am now a young man of eighteen. Still some memories of my childhood linger in my mind. And it is a pleasure to me to ruminate upon them.
I
distinctly remember my father. He used to rise early and go to work in the field. He would return at noon. I used to take my midday meal with him. If he was late in coming back home, I used to repeatedly ask my mother when he would return. This memory of my becoming restless with hunger is still fresh in my mind. I can recollect much of my mother. Every evening she told me the stories of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. She loved me very much. But she did not indulge my wickedness. Once I tore off some pages of the Gita. She not only took me to task, but also caned me severely. Of other poeple I remember something of my grandmother. I used to sleep with her. Before I fell asleep, she used to tell me fairy tales of which she had a rich store.
My grandfather died when I was five. This sad event still peeps through my memory. When his dead body was carried away mother and grandmother wept bitterly. I also wept. His death was a great shock to me. I missed his affection and wished him to be alive again.
