I spent my early years in Raipur, which is now the capital of Chattisgarh. I had four sisters and three brothers. I was naughty but not quite the ill-mannered type.

My maternal cousins, who lived next door, were also a naughty bunch. I still remember this incident which happened when I was in primary school. One day as I sat on the terrace preparing for my exam, my cousin Masood, whom we used to call Gappu, tried to distract me. He threw stones and did all that he could to make me lose my concentration. When the results were to be announced, a rumour was spread that I would fail the exam while my cousin who had disturbed me so much would pass. My mother and sisters paid heed to the rumour and scolded me no end. I felt terrible. But as luck would have it, when the results were finally declared, I found out that I had topped and my naughty cousin had actually failed. That called for a celebration.

My father was a very religious person. In my youth he ensured that I too had a religious bent of mind. My mother was a school teacher and went on to become the principal of that school. She was among the very few Muslim women of her time who were well educated. She also had a good voice and would often sing lullabies to us.

One particular lullaby had a tremendous impact on me. It was actually a hymn about an orphan who gets to meet his mother on the Day of Judgement. Whenever I would be up to some mischief, my mother would sing that hymn and I would instantly put my finger on her lips to stop her. That would also prevent me from getting into further mischief.

I studied in a municipality school which had very good teachers. I remember each one of them vividly. One particular teacher, Kanhaiyalal Sharma, who taught us English, had an excellent command over grammar. It was he who helped us build a solid foundation. All the subjects were taught in a pleasant ambience and that made studying a real pleasure. Botany was taught outdoors. It was such a practical way of teaching the subject that I went on to secure distinction marks in that subject and a first class in my matriculation exam.

Speaking in English was not common in those days. So my friends and I decided to brush up our spoken English by conversing in that language during leisure. We chalked out a plan. We decided that whoever faltered and spoke in Hindi or Urdu would have to pay a fine of one paisa. We would put aside the money and at the end of the week, on Fridays, we would feast on golgappa or kachcha aam that we bought from the thelewala. I still visit my ancestral home and have fond memories of those days when life was so much fun.