ShradhaGiriblogs

The memories of my childhood are so vivid that I often wonder if it is all a déjà vu. I remember the friends that came over to my house or the time when we went out diving in fish ponds, riding a buffalo and stealing rice with the sole purpose to sell and buy back candies.  A couple of weeks back I was in my hometown that lies two kilometers away from Birtamode in Jhapa – called Buttabari. Being out and about 12 hours a day was how I spent my vacation – a rare occasion for children these days. Happy were the days when I would ride my ‘hand me down’ (from my brothers) bicycles and ride with my best friend – our cook’s daughter who was known as Kanchi (common name for the youngest for a female child). Round about 20 years later and I often think about that friend. It kind of sucks that I never bothered to ask her name – her real name. Did she have one? Of course, she did. Because she went to school, I say to myself repeatedly. Last I heard, she had two kids and it’s been almost tw