This is the story of my childhood period that I spent in a rural
area of Bangladesh. I was a primary school boy when the story had made. Some of
my friends and I loved to play cricket very much, but we had many crises. We had no permanent
playground, no ability to buy a ball, bat and other required thing, but we had a
strong attachment to the game indeed. There was a cultivating garden of Mehgoni
tree beside of our home. Despite this limited scope, we all were very happy and
tried to enjoy every moment of the game. Since it was an agricultural area,
there were other cultivating land around the garden that were prohibited for us.
It was a problem that when we hit a six or four the ball often went to the
prohibited land and destroy some crops. Therefore, for each incident like this
we got a huge threat from the farmer and sometimes lost our right to play
there.
It is now only a memory that never be forgotten. When I
recall it just feel nostalgic. I always miss all of my friends who gave me a
very good childhood. I am really grateful to them. In the complex reality of
human life, we are living in a far distant from each other but still connected
by heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment