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My Childhood
I was born into a middle class Tamil family in the island town of rameswaram in the erstwhile Madras state.My father, jainulabdeen had neither much formal education not much wealth despite these disadvantage,he possessed great innate wisdom and a true generosity of spirit.He had an ideal helpmate in my mother, Ashiamma.I do not recall the exact number of people she fed every day,but I am aquite certain that far more outsiders ate with us than all the members of our own family put together.
I I was one of many children a short boy with rather indistinguished looks, born to talk and handsome parents.We lived in our ancestral house, which was built in the middle of the nineteenth century. I was a fearly large pucca house made up of limestone and bricks on the mosque stress in the Rameswaram.My austere father used to avoid all in essential comforts and luxuris.However, all necessities were provided for,in term of food medicine or clothes. in fact I would say mini was a very secure childhood both materially and emotionally.
The the second world war was broken out in 1939. when I was eight years old. for reason I have never been able to understand a certain demand for tamarind seeds erupted in the market. I used to collect the street.A day collection would fetch me the princely sum of one anna.My brother in law jalaluddin would tell me story about the war which I would later attempt attempt to trace in the headline in dinamani our area being isolated,was a completely unaffected by the war but some Indian was forced to join the allied force and something like a state of emergency was declared the first casualty came in the form of suspension of the train halt at Rameshwarm station.The newspaper now had to be bundled and thrown out from the moving train on the Rameswaram road between rameshwaram and Dhanuskodi.That forced my cousin Samsuddin who distributor newspaper in rameshwaram to look for a helping hand to catch the bundles and has effnature the eye filled the slot, Samsuddin helped me me earn money first wages.Half half of century later I can still feel the shukar of pride in earning my oven money for the first time.
this is a story about A.P.J Abdul kalam
I I was one of many children a short boy with rather indistinguished looks, born to talk and handsome parents.We lived in our ancestral house, which was built in the middle of the nineteenth century. I was a fearly large pucca house made up of limestone and bricks on the mosque stress in the Rameswaram.My austere father used to avoid all in essential comforts and luxuris.However, all necessities were provided for,in term of food medicine or clothes. in fact I would say mini was a very secure childhood both materially and emotionally.
The the second world war was broken out in 1939. when I was eight years old. for reason I have never been able to understand a certain demand for tamarind seeds erupted in the market. I used to collect the street.A day collection would fetch me the princely sum of one anna.My brother in law jalaluddin would tell me story about the war which I would later attempt attempt to trace in the headline in dinamani our area being isolated,was a completely unaffected by the war but some Indian was forced to join the allied force and something like a state of emergency was declared the first casualty came in the form of suspension of the train halt at Rameshwarm station.The newspaper now had to be bundled and thrown out from the moving train on the Rameswaram road between rameshwaram and Dhanuskodi.That forced my cousin Samsuddin who distributor newspaper in rameshwaram to look for a helping hand to catch the bundles and has effnature the eye filled the slot, Samsuddin helped me me earn money first wages.Half half of century later I can still feel the shukar of pride in earning my oven money for the first time.
this is a story about A.P.J Abdul kalam
