Childhood

When I typed the heading I was thinking what I will write as childhood is so short still so vast. I was a naughty child; youngest among three of us. My early childhood was in the woods of my Baba's garden. Morning started with the picking up of fruits and raw vegetables. I never wanted to study. Baba used to get his postings in small towns because of his hearing problem. A masterjee use to come to teach me but could not continue to do so as I always troubled him in one way or the other. Today I was reading a book where it was written: never forget three people in your life i.e. one is your mother, second is your teacher and third is GOD.  Yes Master jee I have still not forgotten you.  You gave the first lesson of patience and forgiveness. I have not learnt the alphabets and counting from you because of my own mischiefs but what you taught me is probably what no teacher in the world can teach.

It happened so that after writing these few lines I stopped to think what to write next. In the meanwhile I received an invitation from my home town Chandigarh to deliver few lectures and presently I am continuing further sitting in the guest house. Today is the last day at Chandigarh.  Being the last day I thought let me visit the house where my infancy, adolescent and a part of women hood were attained. I went to sector 15C and preferred to walk as I wanted to see each and every name plate near 2150 house. Still few oldies are left. While standing near the house I cried profoundly by looking at the old palm trees which were planted by my brother. My brother was a great friend to me; he was 11 years older to me but still shared the deep philosophies of life. In difficult times he stood by me. His loss created a vast vacuum in me and left me thinking who will be with me to guide to choose between good, bad and worse. I tried to see the mango trees which were planted by my father but they were no more. I met few old friends of my mother; every one remembered her and quoted she was a virtuous soul. I passed through the old Gurudwara, school and Ram Sharan Ashram which were associated with my mother. I still remember the days when she used to visit these places for her prayers. The journey was complete but memoirs are numerous which need at least a decade to write.