Once upon a time there lived a poor family and they gave birth to their 4th child on a summer day it was a month of April 1987 and it was a hot day. The child was myself. I was the youngest child in the family. I was born in a Roman Catholic family in Goa, India. When i turned 5 years my father died and i was packed off to a boarding school away from my mother and siblings. She decided to go to abroad because that was the only option to get bit more money so we could survive and we could manage the food and the school fees and all. My life in the boarding school was not really what a kid would ever wanted or even imagined. I was not a happy child I missed my parents and older siblings a lot and wanted to be around them all the days of my life. My sister is like a treasure always took care of my life my mother would. I wanted to be out playing with my age group of neighbourhood friends. I missed playing cricket and football with my older brother and the cute lovely village boys at age 12 and 13. I missed it all. Life is unpredictable. This all happened only because i lost my father he was only 37 years old and my mother was 28. I remember my mother had to deal with really hard life to raise 4 kids all by herself there was no other family support. As an Indian it was very hard to even imagine the life. Since, there is no financial or any other kind of support provided by the government in such circumstances.
I am loving, caring, sensitive, stubborn. I was smart enough to escape one fine day from the boarding school. i knew the path /way to get home and i went along with my friends who lived next door to my house. I was around 7 years. I always wanted to be a free bird. I wanted to grow faster so that i can be free in life. then on the same evening the nun came to pick me up. I cried and cried i did not wanted to go back in the convent but i had to go. I wanted to help my mother and my siblings too. I missed my father more than anyone else in the world when i was younger. I would cry every single night to go to bed. It was so cold in the night. Nobody cared how i felt. My heart cried. I lived in the boarding school for about 10 years. I used to go home only during the summer vacations. I would be so happy extremely happy. That feeling i cannot explain into words. Its all about going home where heart is. I would go home happy.
I missed the picnics. I missed going to the beach. I missed fun. I missed playing with the toys as a child. I missed the love of my family and the pets. Now i am finally free but i do not have the same desire like i used to do when i was a child. I wish the same desire was still in my heart. Now i live very far away from India and I have built a new life but my childhood will be always special for myself. I alone know how i felt and experienced it.