Those were the days
I am at the fag end of an Indian work life reaching 58 this October, I am well placed to bring out to share the hues and cries of the spectrum of my life. I was born at Bangalore, the then Garden City of India. My formative years was joyfully spent among all sects in my kindergarden school. We used to sing carols during Christmas, dance to songs of different states not knowing the exact meaning but fluent in our actions dipecting the right naunces of that song. The anglo-Indian teachers were so kind hearted & encouraging that we looked forward for the next day at school. Our parents used to dress us up, make us eat our breakfast so fast & I thought milk was always warm. The tiffin box was one surprise we used to wait for the lunch break. We learnt whatever was there was ours & Sometimes sharing would depend on the dish in there, some days we would skip the prayer to devour the tiffin box. These were the nursery days. In my 5th grade,our class was taken to the Radio Stat