Some stories, some moments, no matter how incomplete they be, but still are worth sharing. Though I don’t remember a lot of my early childhood, but somehow these moments are well retained.

I was around five years old, my childhood had just started to blossom. The images are a bit faded but as beautiful as the feelings were at that moment. My only outhouse adventure comprised of school visit and rare grocery shopping with mom, because I was a problem kid at that time, with never ending monkey business.

Concerned of my future, my parents admitted me to a play house-cum-coaching for kids. It was near my home, just a lane behind, no busy roads, most people on the way knew me, hardly a five minute walk. Though, the classes were meant for both education and play, but from the very first day I self-employed myself with only the latter one.

One fine day, the classes ended earlier. I had to go home alone, so I was happy about being independent. But, concerned of the pranks that I might do if I went alone, the teacher paired me with a girl, who lived near my house, on my way back. I had seen her before but we never had a talk.

I was wearing a t-shirt with half sleeves, and short pants that barely covered my thighs, and my new micky-mouse shoes. As universally common to boys, one side of my shirt was carelessly un-tucked and my hairs untidy. She, on the other hand, wore a beautiful lemon dress, upto her knees, matching slippers and two lemon clips to avoid her hairs from doing their freelancing business. Seeing her idealness, I limited my pranks on my way back home.

She offered me a cookie. I denied out of hesitation, as she had only one. In spite of my denial, she broke it into two and re-offered me one-half. This time I accepted it, again out of hesitation. I saw a smile running on her face creating a cute indentation, a dimple, which in turn brought a smile on my face. Then suddenly she held my hands, and I was shocked for a moment and looked at her. She said, her mom had instructed to walk with hands in hand while on roads. For the first time, I was holding a girl’s hand or rather the opposite, and really I don’t know how to explain the feeling; was I nervous or did I like it. I looked around to see if anyone is watching, maybe out of shyness. I was smiling, I don’t know why, maybe I was blushing. At that moment I loved her mom for those instructions.

At that age, it was not love of course, but today when I recollect those moments, all those feelings fit into only a four letter word. I do not regret that I never met her again; rather I feel lucky to have lived those moments.