I grew up on this ground, where childhood meant running, playing, laughing, and losing track of time.
Years have passed, the buildings around it have changed, but the ground has somehow remained.
It still carries the footsteps and laughter of a generation that grew up here.
I only wish my children could have known this little piece of my childhood too.
For fourteen years, I thought I was the one protecting my daughters from life's storms. But they were growing up quietly, watching everything our family was going through. They saw illness, fear, loss and uncertainty much earlier than most children do. They gave up little things without complaining, and slowly took on responsibilities they never asked for.
I often wondered whether life had taken something away from their childhood. But today, when I look at them, I see not what they lost, but what they became. Two young women who choose to ask, “What can we do?” instead of “Why us?”
And somewhere along this difficult journey, I realized something I had never expected—
I thought I was protecting them. But they were quietly becoming the ones protecting me.
They are stronger than I think.
Some lessons from childhood quietly stay with us for life.
For me, one such lesson came through a poem — “जन पळभर म्हणतील …”
कवी भा. रा. तांबे
.
As a child, I feared death, but more than my own, I feared losing my parents. This poem slowly made me realise that life continues even after we lose someone we love. The world doesn't stop; people grieve, remember, and eventually move forward.
Years later, when cancer brought death much closer to me, those childhood words returned with a deeper meaning. They didn't make me fearless, but they taught me not to let the fear of death steal the joy of living.
Today, I don't worry much about what happens after me. I would rather focus on making the most of the life I have, while I have it.
I went looking for a waterfall with an old childhood friend. Instead, I found a mirror.
A difficult climb back forced me to confront a body that isn't what it used to be. For a moment, I felt embarrassed, vulnerable and even ashamed.
But somewhere on that hill, another thought emerged. How many times has life put me in situations where turning back wasn't really an option? I didn't always choose those battles. I simply faced them, fought them and moved forward.
Maybe yesterday was another such moment.
Perhaps the waterfall wasn't the destination after all. Perhaps the real lesson was about facing the climb ahead—one step, one breath, and one day at a time.
Some school lessons are forgotten after the examination. A few quietly become a part of who we are.
For me, one such lesson was a Marathi chapter titled “बोलावणं आल्याशिवाय नाही!” — “Not unless I am invited.” As a child, I saw its character not as arrogant, but as someone fiercely protecting his self-respect. Somehow, that idea stayed with me and became a part of how I approached life, relationships, rejection—and even girls! 😄
Decades later, I still believe in that little philosophy. But I now understand that the line between self-respect and ego can be very thin. Perhaps we don't always learn what the author intended. Sometimes, a single sentence from a schoolbook quietly shapes an entire life.
Some lessons prepare us for examinations. The rare ones prepare us for life.
Vanjari Madam is another teacher whom I deeply respect and hold in the highest regard, next only to my parents.
She taught me a couple of subjects, but what she really taught me went far beyond textbooks and classrooms. She taught me to love learning, to connect what we learn with the values of life, to look beyond books and never limit our learning to what is written in them, and most importantly, to love and appreciate our own language.
She may have taught me for only two years of my school life, but the impact she made on me as a person has lasted a lifetime.
This is my small way of remembering those years, sharing those memories with all of you, and expressing my heartfelt gratitude to a teacher who has been an important part of who I am today.
Thank you, Vanjari Madam. ❤️
I am lucky to have teachers who have not only helped shape my career but they have lifelong influence on my life. I am still in touch with them after 35 years. Meeting them is always a nostalgia. What makes you even more happy when you know that they also share the same feeling about me. Very few things where I am still lucky :)
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