Walking Through Youthful Memory Lane

Walking Through The Youthful Memory Lane

I sometimes wish that memories are written in water. Unfortunately, the most beautiful and painful memories are sculptured in igneous rock. Walking through the memory lane, the painful memory wrought laughter and happy memories wrought tears. Youthful experience embedded in our conscious defines who we are at the present. Human being is nothing more than experience of our past since our birth.

My childhood days and youthful experience are one of the most colorful journeys. The unfortunate birth as a blotch to society and bringing up as a child of small God and the subsequent transition to youth in the glare of society defines what I am today.  It dictates my attitude, my take on society and behavior I wear today.

I have never known I have a father. The young men and children at my age used to tease me where my father was, whether my father died before dawn. I knew I was different child but I didn’t know how. Only later in class one, I learnt that I was product of unwanted pregnancy. A class mate succinctly explained what type of bastard I was. In return I gave him nice thrashing as I was 11 years old that time. The fact was bitter. But he was right. I was not even wanted by my mother when she went with another man.

The life in the school was tough. I was looked after by sister who was only four years my senior. Since class five, I broke stones for Department of Road every winter to generate expenditure for next academic year. It was painful waking up at three in the chilly winter morning from the warmth of coarse blanket laid in the humble hut where earthworm used to roam during the peak of summer. As I grew up, I started carrying electricity pole for little better fare.

In 2005, I was in class eleven. By the September, I noticed that the pair of shoe I had was wearing thin. I tried to minimize its use as much as I could. I tried wearing my Bata slippers to the class where I was once made to stand in the front for violating school rules on uniform. In the statement addressed to principal, I didn’t tell her I couldn’t afford. I told her I would wear from next day. As the year drew to end, I found two big holes in my shoes. I tore off a plastic file and pasted against sole with thump pin. While walking I had to be careful so that it didn’t make sizzling sound. 

When I qualified for study abroad from class twelve, I thought my life would change. It didn’t. With Nu.3600 I received as monthly stipend, I had to adjust for food, dressing and other college donation. Sightseeing and partying was something I could only dreamt of? Every time, friend asked me out, I had to think of credible excuses.

My life hadn’t change even today. I didn’t have many ghos and shoes to change. I still wear shirt with hole under arms. The torn shirt is okay as long as I wear inside the gho. However, there is minor hitch, people expects media guy to be smart-looking and jim dandy which I can’t afford to be right now. For sometimes, I have continued wearing faded dresses and wrinkled shoes.  

Yet my life has changed for better. The tears I shed in the name of education have paid off. The memories of painful experience and tortuous ordeal in the society, lodged in the far away corner of brain, today brings smiles on lips. Whenever, I cried with memory I cried with joy today. My unfortunate birth doesn’t bother me. I realized children don’t choose parents. 

In journey of life, I have traveled a million miles to reach where I am today. There are millions miles left for me to walk on. At twenty six, I am no more youth but I have energy and dream of youth. In the journey forward, I am positive that I will encounter most wondrous adventures.