Childhood memories

Yesterday I remembered my childhood abuses after listening to some old things from my brother's mouth. In which almost every Sunday of my childhood was spent. How innocent, how naive those memories are, in which childhood is spent. People tell the truth, people die but memories never die. On every side of one of those walls of blind turning streets, the passerby bowed with full reverence, without knowing which religion God is associated with. Used to have a lot of self in itself. I was a child at that time, but I never felt any fear in going through the streets of those blind turns, but today, whenever there is a way (very little) of a road, but when going through a dry road, there are many types of expressions Come to my mind, we were talking about the streets of childhood, we used to go to our grandmother's house every Sunday and the way to her house used to go through these dark alleys.

On the way, the stare I talked about above also used to fall. Everyone saw, I used to take my small forehead there. Then there used to be a very big bungalow of an old Seth ji, turning straight on from there. Probably still is today. But while this is the case, no one lived there. In those days the entire bungalow looked no less than a ghost bungalow. But mother never taught to be afraid of ghosts. So never got scared while leaving in front of that bungalow. Yes, some crazy people used to sit there and do strange things in their tune.

We wanted to turn left and reach Nani's house as soon as possible. But before that we had to face many cows, which people used to call home and used to feed them with their hands. So someone was adding the remaining food. So someone was just caressing those cows. There was also a cow tied to the grandmother's house, who used to come by the rule and demand to eat bread herself. There is also a Ram temple, which has many childhood memories hidden in it. As soon as you enter the temple, some stairs from the left go up. It is said that there is a well above it, but I have never seen it going up. From the front which leads to the temple inside, there is a large platform made of marble on the right side and there are iron bars around it. Perhaps that platform would have been erected for the saints living there to sleep. On that platform, something like a pillow of a plateau is made. In those days in childhood, we children used to feel very high. It used to be that you will not be able to climb on it easily and today it seems so inferior that laughter happens after thinking of childhood.

How were all the donkeys at that time… We all did not get the idea that one day we all will be big. I still remember today, me and my younger brother (my aunt's son) both of us used to sit on that platform and play mini bus games and kept repeating the same dialogue all the time "Rangmahal, New Market Jawahar Chowk, Moti Masjid, Chale Chalo ”Then when the earthquake struck, Panditji used to give a lot of puffed rice and sugar candy. That temple remains the same even today. There is a kindred peace there, a wonderful revelation.

Reminiscent of the relief and peace in the granny's house, even in the attic worshiped above, the same peace was felt as it used to be in that temple. At that time, to say, we were children only. But even then, we felt that relaxed power, that peace. Which can be done in a holy place. Not much was understood then. But it seemed that there could be no better place to play.

Yet the impression left on the child's mind is indelible. I still forget that day. When one day I was playing with my younger brothers in my grandmother's house in the worship attic. Then perhaps Mummy, aunt and grandmother were also present there. I do not remember exactly who it was. But there were two big people, that's for sure. Because the attic with worship was up, everyone must have been afraid that a child might not fall down in the direction of peeping through the windows there. Therefore, when we played there, there was always something big there.

We also worshiped there with Nanaji. Some would wear sandalwood, and some flowers would light a light. Whom Nana ji used to do, that child would do the same work with full devotion. One day while we were playing there. Then the voices started coming from below "Ram Naam Hai Satya" We did not understand anything. When peeping through the window, a large crowd was leaving the dead body of a young boy. The picture of that dead boy lying on the bier, is still on my mind today. Mom and aunt were talking while talking to each other. Hey, this boy has committed suicide by himself in the well of the temple. Since then, I have never seen that well. But even today, when I go to that temple, I remember that dead body scene.

Next to Nani's house is another temple, famous by the name of Mahadev, the elder. It is said that the Shivalinga came out of the root of the big tree there. From then on, the name of that temple came to be known as Badh Mahadev. But we children used to call it the Turtle Temple. Because there were many small big turtles in the well inside the temple. Maybe even today. Those who were eager to see were never finished in those days. Now, it is not yet known exactly which temple the young boy jumped into the well