Did you read Meena’s post on her earliest memory? Being the notoriously impish person she is, she surely would have interestingly spicy tales to share with us.
When we (we as in a group of blogger friends) were discussing about sharing our earliest memory on our blogs, I assumed I could whip up posts after posts in succession because I had so many memories I wanted to share. The trouble started when I actually sat down to write this today. Where do I start? One favourite memory is regarding the birth of my kid brother. But then, I was around 7 years old at that time. So does that mean that I have no idea what went on in my life till I was 7? Then there is the time when I chased a cat around the colony which eventually resulted in me bidding an early good-bye to one of my milk teeth. Then there are the umpteen celebrations that we had at home â€“ Onam, Vishu, birthdays and random celebrations for no reason. The problem here is that I cannot seem to date those memories so as to choose my earliest.
Maybe I should just share some tidbit of memory that I hold close to my heart. Or maybe not.
There is an incident we use in the family to torture my dad emotionally and to get things done the way we want them to be. I donâ€™t remember it exactly, but it has been quoted enough number of times that I can almost visualize it.
A friend and I stood near the school gate waiting for our fathers to come and take us home. We were not even in the second standard and hence were under strict instructions as to not leave the school premises until someone from home came to pick us up. We must have been discussing some game that we played that day or about the picnic that was being planned. It must have been then that my father entered the school on his green chetak. I was a girl who saw her dad as her superhero and to me he was the most handsome person on the earth. I was all happy and said my byes to my friend because princess would soon be going home on her chariot.
Then something happened that left me speechless.
The hero of my story came and took the hand of my friend and walked away.
Though the story ends when dad suddenly realizes what he did and takes me home after buying my friend a chocolate, we love to pull dadâ€™s leg and have elongated it a bit more to say that he took my friend home without realizing what he had done and the moment he entered our house, mom shouted at him for not bringing home her child! 😀
Before you leave the page, please do two things for me. Firstly, share your earliest memory with me and secondly hop over to Kalpana’s blog and make sure you read her earliest memory 🙂