[Points: The place of birth—relatives friends events pleasant and painful—would you like to be a child again?]
I was born at Asansol about seventeen years ago. My father was an advocate there, and the family consisted of my parents, myself, my sister, a cousin, and my grandmother. My earliest recollection is of my grandmother fondling me in her arms, chanting a nursery rhyme. As usual for a grandmother, she was very fond of the children of the family. We too always found the greatest pleasure in her company.
My next recollection is of a small park near our house where the children of the locality were taken out every afternoon. I became atimate with some I met there, and that intimacy continues still. It was there that I first saw a bear and a monkey. A man was showing some tricks with them. Though I was a little frightened of the animals, I enjoyed their pranks quite as much as the other children present.
The next experience worth mention was my first day at school. When I entered the compound with father, school had not begun yet; so the children were enjoying themselves here and there. That I would soon become one of them seemed to be a privilege; the mind, however, was troubled with fear that I might not be quite free and easy in their midst. My heart began to beat fast when I was taken to the Headmaster; but his smiling face and gentle words put me at my case. I was admitted into class III The warmth with which my classmates received me dispelled a fears.
Of recollections ontside school, the memory of an old neighbour, now dead, is still fresh in my mind. He would often gather children around him and tell them stories of our great men in a way that kept us almost spell-bound.
But these pleasant memories do not mean that my childhood was all roses. I was not free to do or have whatever I liked. This constant check and restraint seemed a tyranny. I felt deeply grieved but there was no help. My protests sometimes took the form of fasts which were broken by persuasion or rebuke. But the most painful experience was the death of my mother. I was then barely eight. When her loving face and sweet smile float before my mind's eye, I feel utterly forlorn. It is a wound that can never heal.
As to whether I would like to be a child again, my firm answer is "yes". With all its checks and restraints, childhood is free from worries and has infinite capacity for enjoyments.
