I was born in Calcutta, but spent a part of my childhood at Rangpur, in what is now Bangladesh. Life in our village was full of fun. I studied in a pathshala and I remember how we would sway in rhythm while we learnt our multiplication tables. I loved to spend time in the garden adjoining our school with my friends, chasing hens and goats. I also loved to fish. Sometimes, I’d chase the ducks across the red-soil paths until they jumped into the ponds. The sight of the ducks splashing water that sparkled like a million glittering diamonds made me wild with joy. I missed all of that when we moved to south Calcutta.

As a child, I wasn’t very naughty, but I was very determined. Ours was a joint family and we cousins had a lot of fun together. I was an average student in school and preferred to spend my time among artistic work. I also loved to spend time amidst nature, when I went hunting with my father.

In school, I was the captain of the cricket team. That’s where Chuni Goswami and I became friends. He was the captain of the school football team. Once my team was short of players and Chuni offered to help us out. That was his first innings in cricket.

When we were little, we did not have a radio. So on Mahalaya day, the only way we could hope to listen to the programme was to strain our ears and catch the faint sounds of the programme that came from a distance.

Later, I took to singing in a big way. One day, I’d gone to Akashbani to audition. The technicians told me to stop singing the moment the lights came on. However, I had not even completed a line when the lights came on due to some technical glitch. My cousin, who was accompanying me, burst out laughing, saying that the judges were so pleased with my performance that they didn’t wait for me to complete a line.

Looking back, between the life I led in the village and the one in the city, I think it was the simple village life which was more endearing. It’s sad that today’s children miss out on so much while growing up.