In my first year in school I had a fragrant pencil eraser, which was pink in color with a green crown. It smelt so good; I tried to eat it once. It tasted like rubber. I am always amazed how my handicapped brain can go that far back and retrieve pieces of useless information and play it out like a scratchy old record.

I can remember the Casuarina pines at school, the taste of that birthday cake, the smell of fear in the examination hall, the wrinkles on Ms. Marie’s face as she struggled to teach us the syntax and the semantics.

I remember listening to the radio, watching Amitabh Bachchan beat up Amjad Khan who was about three times his size. I can remember Shishir and his braces. He used to coyly slip Melody chocolates on to my desk during lunchtime. How I hated those chocolates.

Somehow I can't remember a lot. I can't remember my first lie. I can't remember the first time I hated someone so much that I wanted to kill them. No, not the first pang of jealousy or envy either. Try as I may, I can't recollect the day I grew up. I can't remember the end of innocence.