The day I was born…….I don’t remember what happened. But then the day I started walking…….hmmmm I don’t remember that too :). I do remember one of my innocent conversations with Dad while a kid. I wanted Dad to play with me. Dad said he is too old to play that game with me. I asked him for proof for being old enough. He replied saying he had a mustache and I did not. I very smartly replied “Shave it, than you will also become a kid”.
I remember my first scolding. Not the one I got but the one I gave. It was so embarrassing. Not for me though. I was in 3rd Std and did not know much. One fine day while playing cricket in the galli I saw the Didi from the neighboring house throw something out. I called her and started scolding her for wasting the resources of the earth, for she had just wasted a lot of COTTON. What did I know it was not “just” cotton.
I remember the first day of me trying to learn a bicycle. The Bhayia from the colony, a practicing bhramin in those days, all dressed up on a Sunday morning, came to teach me. Those days our colony did not have a drain system and everything used to flow in the nalas. I wish I knew that Bhayia will not be able to bear my weight. And there we were in the nala in our very first round. Never did he come again to teach me nor did he ever give me his cycle.
My first day at college was fun too. My friend Teja (Name changed to conceal the identity :P) was nervous and worried of being ragged. And I was excited for the same reason. I tried my best the entire day to get noticed. And every time I did something to catch attention I got blasting from Teja. After a days hard work I was rewarded. Our seniors caught us. As a part of the ragging they asked us to get a cigarette. I acted nervous and scared but thought to my self – “Get a cigarette, is this what they call ragging? For Gods sake, don’t they have better ideas? May be this is just the start.” We got the cigarette. They asked both of us to light it and smoke. We begged not to make us smoke. They were enjoying this and started bossing and forcing us to smoke it. They would not have enjoyed it only if they knew we have been smoking for the past two years. (Hope Dad does not read this).
There are many such memories which make my life special. And I am sure pages will not be enough, I would need another life to make a note of them. I wish I could actually record them and store them. Not just on a paper or mind but on something that I can look at again when I fell like it. As these small memories are the once which bring smiles on my face every time I remember them. And I am glad I remember them.
