The Monsoon Showers of a Memorable Childhood
My earliest memory of my childhood was my fourth birthday. When life was confined in a rose-tinted herbarium, and smiles were less forced. I remember going around and calling everyone around my house for my cake-cutting. I just started school and was all hyped up to take sweets to my classroom and share them with the rikshaw uncle who used to take me to school. I remember being particular about my navy blue romper dress and white vest. However, I forgot one small thing, i.e., to let my mother and father know there would be guests for my birthday. When the evening rolled in, and my perfectly iced plum cake was lit with four colorful candles, my mom almost lost it when she saw another twenty people with wide smiles standing in front of the house. Age was never a matter. I introduced all of them as my friends in my 4-year-old innocence. Even if she wanted to pull her hair out, she embraced me with all the love in the world and sang happy birthday to me while my father beamed behind his ca...