Life is so beautiful, it is so beautiful that the earth is so beautiful, it can be understood in the childhood. It may have grown up so much so that when childhood is forgotten. During the celebration of the time of emancipation, the moment of life seems to change the color of life, and at that time it just seems that everything in life How beautiful And once you are old, it is understood in your childhood memories of childhood. The beauty of life as well as the happiness lies in the memories hidden during childhood. Sometimes I can not remember why I can not look back at the childhood window of the childhood. In my childhood, we were hanging on the tree.
There are many memories of being charmed when only in childhood.
I remember Jonah's words on the head of the bamboagagana on the head of Kazla Didi I remember talking to Khokon in the mouth of my mother, she could call Khokon. I remember going to the tip of the moon mama forehead
And how many hundred childish memories of memories
Shani Suiani-Duorani, Patlipuri's daughter, listening to her mother's childhood, and the story of how many forms of love. Mala. Life and time do not stop in time. The time has passed by churning with the age.
I did not stop, I grew up with age. Today, it has become very big that the house has become a part of the family, but it can not be forgotten even after childhood. Occasionally, sometimes I remember the childhood, and I remember the memories of this kind of memories of childhood. I remember many times when I remember my childhood, my eyes filled with tears.
I remember that the kite used to wear a lotus in the old age of the kite was to shoot.
I spent many days in my childhood during my childhood, my mother was with me, my grandfather was uncle Fufu, my father had to stay in town because of his job. Our house was in the heart of all of the relatives, in Kalkakali. We had gardens behind our house and the mango, kathal, jam, guava, papaya, and other fruits in the garden, and the pleasure of eating it from the fruit trees, it is understood only when I remember childhood.
In my family, I was in love with everyone, my grandmother used to sleep at night to tell me the story of a different kind of prince, and I thought that the story was real, how many rajs lined up in the sleeping room, in the sleeping house, I can not finish the story of the peacock.
The school was at the school side, how much time was spent in school grounds, Golachhat, Kanamachi, Bachi, Phulotaka, Seedling,
Rail line gone by the side of the house We went to the afternoon at the barrel of the railway line and on the two sides of the railway line were many plums we did not know how much he had taken the plum from the plum trees.
How much wasted in the water of the canal, and when she wore the flowers of purple dye in the garbage, she felt so much better that the earth was beautiful and they too attracted me a lot.
How small things seem to be the most valuable thing in the world.
Once upon a time I asked for a tin box from my mother and we took care of it very much
The old days of broken radio, watch the hand of my father's hand, and a number of things in my pen.
Who will give me that she is the memorial day of childhood.