Childhood Memories Stay Forever

There was a time when we didn’t know what was the headache and what was the ego. We used to fight, but forget the next moment and befriend again with no past baggage, whatsoever.

There was a time, when as a child we had no examination fever. At the most,  we would bite the back end of our pencils in order to recollect whatever we had written with those pencils.

We also used to keep tree leaves and peacock feathers in our books with hope to acquire wisdom in due course. Putting brilliant covers adorned with Goddess Saraswati was also a success mantra for us.

We used to learn cycling on a normal height bicycle through its triangular frame with one foot crossed by holding seat with one hand and handle with the other (langdi type). That was a different experience altogether.

And then roaming around on a bicycle by carrying one friend on the front rod of the bicycle and the other on the rear carrier with filmi songs on the lips was the best enjoyment of that life.

Other common games we used to play then was Kabaddi, I spy, Ludo, Chess, marbles, Gilli Danda (a cheaper version of cricket) and of course, Dola Pati, in which we had to touch a player on tree branches to make him ‘out’.

In those days, parents were not much worried about their children’s education. There were no periodical parent-teacher meetings in schools. Only when a child committed some mischief or failed in examination, his father used to be called to school.

But my parents were a bit different. My father was concerned about my handwriting. He used to say that writing makes a person perfect. It gives a personal identity. So for him, I used to write two pages each from books in Hindi and English for improving handwriting. That was his daily task.

But my mother was a true task master. She never allowed me to skip my lessons and homework. Even arrival of a guest would not deter her. Only on festival days, and especially on Kalam Dawat (Pen and Inkpot) Puja, we siblings were allowed not to touch books and notebooks.

My mom never allowed me or my siblings to go for tuition, as she thought that tuition was for weak students and she didn’t like us to be weak. We used to rise early and pray to God every morning and evening singing hymns and bhajans with our mom.

I recall one incident, when unintentionally, I abused someone in front of my mother. She stared at me and said, “How can you use such a filthy word?” That was the day. Since then till today, I have not used any cuss word for anyone.

I could never tell my parents how much I loved them, because quite frankly, I didn’t know how to say ‘I love you‘.

There was no WhatsApp,  Facebook or social media, but then there was a social life, simplicity and mutual concern for others.

I don’t know whether those days were real, better or outdated, but like other friends of my age, I certainly miss those golden moments. Those days won’t come again, I know, but those memories will never go away, I’m sure.

Kaushal Kishore



  1. Fond memories indeed. Those days were the best. What a great collection of thrilling pastimes for you then. And your parents were the best. They brought you up uprightly and in the way of discipline. One can never fail to miss such people and moments. 👏💗💗💐

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Lamittan for sharing such beautiful thoughts. Much appreciation. All parents love their children in their own ways, as I understand. It’s said in our language that one can pursue hobbies only during the lifetime of parents.😊💐💖


  2. Those days were the best….
    I am in college right now but I miss my school days and I know when I ll pass out college I am gonna miss it too…
    There are some days when I want to relive those moments, that stress free life was best.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re right, we miss our past days, because some sweet and sour memories are attached. I’m glad that this resonates with you.


  3. Handwriting is something I wish I had paid more attention to in earlier years, when I was growing up and when my children were growing up.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear Kaushal, I know you don’t need me saying it but you had an ideal childhood! Your memories are golden and the way you weaved your tale of innocent happiness will stay with me forever.
    Thank you!


    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m delighted to have your evocative reflections, Joanna. Much much appreciated. Thank you so much for your kind words.


  5. “That which has never been may have its when.
    That which has been may never be again”
    Quoted from memory (may not be absolutely accurate) from The City of Dreadful Night by James Thomson (BV)
    Memories are good. Do not let them become a prison, however.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Those are golden memories Kk and so much lovely rituals of family time! I love the pictures!! So wonderful my friend! My handwriting has gone to hell and a handbag these days! I’ve gotta get back to my snail mail! Lovely post and story rich with love and sentiments! 💕

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Many thanks, Cindy for your wonderful reflections and appreciations. I’m glad you liked the post. Snail mails have lost relevance in these days of sms and e-mails.

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Memory is a trickster. We remember some things, forget others, and lose some details from what we do remember. Further, we only saw them from one perspective. We usually don’t know what takeaways others had from those moments. In my first life, I did surveys on customer satisfaction. While the surveys I wrote always invited open ended comments, one always read those comments with a critical eye for what was not said or remembered. That’s the right way to do that work, but most people who run such surveys these days choose not to bother.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I concur with what you have stated and experienced, Victor. Selective amnesia is a convenient tool. Thank you for reading and sharing you wonderful reflections.

      Liked by 1 person

  8. KK, these lovely memories made me smile. Your mother’s insistence on homework and your father’s emphasis on handwriting demonstrate their high expectations for you. The photos are wonderful! I especially like the photos of boys riding bicycles. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Credit for my good handwriting certainly goes to my father. And mother was all-rounder. Whatever I’m today is because of her. As regards cycling, I used to ride that way with my friends for years together. But I admit frankly that the enjoyment of riding a bicycle was much more than Audi or Mercedes. Thank you, Cheryl for reading with interest and for your lovely comment 😊💖

      Liked by 1 person

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