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Essay On Recollection Of My Childhood

Recollections of My Childhood

My childhood was a sheltered and uneventful one …. In the evenings usually many friends came to visit father and he would relax after the tension of the day and the house would resound with his tremendous laughter. His laugh became famous in Allahabad. Sometimes I would peep at him and his friends from behind a curtain, trying to make out what these great big people said to each other. If I was caught in the act I would be dragged out and, rather frightened, made to sit for a while on father’s knee. Once I saw him drinking claret or some other red wine. Whisky I knew. I had often seen him and his friends drink it. But the new red stuff filled me with horror and I rushed to my mother to tell her that father was drinking blood.

I admired father tremendously. He seemed to me the embodiment of strength and courage and cleverness, far above all the other men I saw, and I treasured the hope that when I grew up I would be rather like him. But much as I admired him and loved him, I feared him also. I had seen him losing his temper at servants and others and he seemed to me terrible then and I shivered with fright, mixed sometimes with resentment, at the treatment of a servant. His temper was indeed an awful thing …

One of my earliest recollections is of this temper, for I was the victim of it. I must have been about five or six then. I noticed one day two fountain-pens on his office table and I looked at them with greed. I argued with myself that father could not require both at the same time and so I helped myself to one of them. Later I found that a mighty search was being made for the lost pen and I grew frightened at what I had done, but I did not confess. The pen was discovered and my guilt proclaimed to the world. Father was very angry and he gave me a tremendous thrashing. Almost blind with pain and mortification at my disgrace, I rushed to mother, and for several days various creams and ointments were applied to my aching and quivering little body. — Jawaharlal Nehru

October 14, 2016evirtualguru_ajaygourEnglish (Sr. Secondary), LanguagesNo CommentEnglish 10, English 12, English Essay Class 10 & 12, English Essay Graduation

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Childhood means simplicity. Look at the world with the child’s eye – it is very beautiful.

“Our sweetest songs are those that tell our saddest thoughts”. Childhood is the most innocent phase and also the sweetest period of man’s life. Childhood Memories cheer our heart and make us forget sorrow. So, I often look back to my childhood days and try to gather joy from their happy recollections. I remember many things that give me joy even today and many others that fill my mind with pain. Yet the sweet memories of childhood linger on. My childhood recollections are those of a sheltered and carefree life, nurtured with love and concern. As I was the first child in the family, everybody doted on me.

My funny lisping, my innocent mischief and my inane talk-everything was a source of immense pleasure to them. There was never a word of reproach or censure against me. My first recollection of my childhood is the day I fall down the stairs when I was three years old. I was so upset that I cried and cried for nearly an hour in spite of my parents’ attempts at comforting me. Finally, I calmed down when I was given ice-cream and chocolates. Luckily, I was not hurt.

I remember the day clearly when I first went to school. It was a new life to me, but I liked it very much. I made friends with many boys there. I went to school with them and I enjoyed these very much. My teachers loved me very much. I was never afraid of them and they never beat me. I did my lessons well every day. I was fond of story-books. I read the stories of the Quran and the Hadith. They left a deep impression on me. Sometimes tears stood in my eyes when I read about the sufferings of freedom fighters.

When I was ten years old, I had gone with some boys to a neighboring village on pool. I did not inform my parents. We could not return till it was very dark. My parents were very anxious. They searched for me everywhere, but I could not be found. At last, when they saw me coming back late at night, my father jumped’ at me. He held me firmly by my arm. When he was about to beat me, my mother came forward to save me. I was left off with a strong scolding. A father, though loving is often strict, but a mother is always tender to her children. My mother always saved me from the anger of my father. Thus I liked my mother more than I liked my father.

I still remember those days when I was learning to ride a bicycle. I fell and bruised myself several times but I never gave up. Finally, I was able to join my friends going around the neighborhood on my bike.

When I was young I did not like my school teacher because sometimes he used to beat me. It is good that the system of beating is abolished now. We had to go to school early in the morning. In the beginning, like most boys, I was unwilling to get up early in the morning and go to school. But as I was interested in my studies I enjoyed going to school.

The village market was also a place of great interest for me. It used to sit twice a week in the heart of the village. I used to go there with my father on market days and enjoyed much. To my great joy, my father would often buy me sweets and toys.

The memory of my stealing fruits is very interesting. I was very fond of stealing mangoes, litchis, black barriers and other fruits with my friends. One day I and some of my friends went to steal mango in a certain tree. But the owner of the tree caught us with mangoes. We were trembling with fear. But the man did nothing. I shall never forget this memory.

My days of childhood were really spent in happiness. Really, it would be very interesting if I got back those days again. There was only the sad incident of my grandmother’s death. I had no cares and anxieties. I thought of eating, reading, playing and wearing gay clothes and beautiful shoes and nothing else. Now I am a grown-up lad. I cannot now pass days so care-free as I did in the past.

 

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