Childhood
Bappa Rawal is said to have spent his childhood near a place called Nagda. As with most high-spirited princes, there are several legends from Bappa's early years as a youth in the wild Vindhya Range. The pranks of this royal shepherd (he tended the sacred cattle of the Brahmans) include his allegedly innocent mischief among village damsels, although perhaps it was not so innocent. One afternoon, in a game of his own devising, he 'married' several of the young girls, which ended with his having to flee Nagda to a hide-out in the hills to escape the maidens' irate parents. An interesting footnote to this legend of potential virility is that Bappa Rawal is said to have married many women, and sired well over one hundred children.
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Famous quotes containing the word childhood:
“It is not however, adulthood itself, but parenthood that forms the glass shroud of memory. For there is an interesting quirk in the memory of women. At 30, women see their adolescence quite clearly. At 30 a woman’s adolescence remains a facet fitting into her current self.... At 40, however, memories of adolescence are blurred. Women of this age look much more to their earlier childhood for memories of themselves and of their mothers. This links up to her typical parenting phase.”
—Terri Apter (20th century)
“When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and love it. The two things that nearly all of us have thoroughly and really been through are childhood and youth. And though we would not have them back again on any account, we feel that they are both beautiful, because we have drunk them dry.”
—Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874–1936)
“Indeed, my mother’s beautiful face still shone with youthfulness that night when she so softly held my hands and sought to stop my tears; but, precisely, it seemed to me that this should not have happened, her anger would have saddened me less than this new sweetness that my childhood had never known; it seemed to me that, with a hidden and impious hand, I had just traced the first wrinkle and made appear the first grey hair in her soul.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)