Recently, I was asked to write 100-150 words about my childhood memories. It left me wondering, will 100-150 words do a justice to someone’s childhood. Can those careless and precious moments be confined in a paragraph or do they need a whole book?
The moment I think about my childhood, those fun-filled days, when we used to escape from studies or spending those hot, sultry afternoons wandering aimlessly or spending hours in front of bonfire in shivering winter nights, become alive in my mind.
Climbing on trees to get ripened mulberries whose taste and smell, I can still feel. Waiting months before Diwali, because it meant new dresses, sweets, and obviously those crackers. Or tying a Jhoola (swing) in the huge” Peepal” tree” and swinging for hours.
My father on returning from office used to distress himself by playing a game of Ludo almost every evening. I could still feel, the pride in his eyes on being beaten in a game of humble Ludo. Every night, he used to tell me a story from either Ramayana or Mahabharat and I could visualize the character sketch of “Shupranakha”, the devil. Playing and running in the rain without getting worried about acid rain or chemicals coming down was exhilarating.
If God asks me if I want to revive any part of my life, I will definitely choose my childhood.
But at the same time, I really feel pity for today’s generation of kids, whose childhood has been Top of Form
Bottom of Form
lost under academic pressure, race to keep with up with extra-curricular activities. and meeting the expectation of the parents.