Memoirs of My Childhood

I had a childhood everyone wishes to have, a blissful one and as every kid’s childhood should be – full of joy, innocence and some signs of being naughty. And all this would not have been possible if it was not for her, my sister, Sony. Being just 2 years younger than me, made us experience the joys of a shared childhood. Yeah, I was her elder brother, but we were friends first. Experiences galore, here are a few flashing in my mind when I sit down in front of my system and try to paint those sweet memories in words. I remember the silly games I used to play with her. Moments of craziness would make us face our mum’s wrath. She would take us out of the house and shut the door behind us! To add to our embarrassment, the aunt from the neighborhood would be always watching and giving us a sly smile. We would sit outside, gossip and giggle until ma’s temper would tone down. At times our mother even went a step further. Unable to curb our mischief, she would act like leaving the house. She would pack her bags and threaten to leave and then we would cry and sob until she lets her plan rest. Later, after some years we found out that she packed her bags and went only to the neighboring aunt’s house. Then, there is this memory of us returning from school. It happened on days when Papa would be late for picking us. We would embark upon a journey all by ourselves on foot. Water bottles dangling from our neck, hairs messed up, black shoes no longer looking black with dust covering them, shoe laces untied, we would walk along the roadside, sometimes talking, sometimes noticing the things around us, pleasantly surprising mum on reaching home. Then, there is the memory of a rainy day. It was drizzling outside and Sony and I were having garam pakoras. And then we heard a faint voice, on looking out of the window, we realized it was a new-born kitten lost in our garden. Separated from her mother, she was scared. Despite our mum’s repeated pleas of not going outside, we went out. Sony, always the brave one between us, lifted the petrified kitten with her tiny hands and put her in a basket. We took her inside, her furs still wet from the rain. She was shivering. Ma who was earlier complaining, was now offering warm milk to the troubled creature. That’s how mothers are. The kitten with her little eyes, white furs, two black patches on her head and a black tail was unbelievably cute. Later in the evening, the kitten’s mother came and took her. But it was just the beginning, beginning of something very beautiful. The little kitten, who was later named as ‘Billoo’ visited our home thereafter every day and then she started living with us. We made a bed for her beneath the stairs, got up every morning to watch her sleep. We just loved the way she purred when we patted her head calmly. Though she did scratch us many a times, a cat’s instincts, after all. We saw her grow. Many a fond memory we had with her until Papa got a transfer order and we had to leave the house.

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