In the early 90's, my father took us to see Shimla in the winter. The excitement was too much for 7-year-old me from hot and humid Kerala; I enjoyed the snow fights with my siblings, making snowmen that we thought were masterpieces. I was ever ready to cook up mischief and when we were invited over to a family friend's house, their son and I got up to no good by creating snow balls and pushing them down the chimney. The punishment must have not been too bad else this wouldn't have ended up here. :)
One of my fondest childhood memories was visiting my mother's hometown in India during summer vacation. There, I would eagerly pluck raw mangoes straight from the tree and slice them up, savoring the juicy fruit with a dash of oil, chilli powder, and salt. It was a simple pleasure that brought me immense joy. Similarly, when I visited my father's place, I would pick ripe mulberries off the tree and relish their sweet and tangy flavor. Those moments of indulging in nature's bounty remain etched in my memory as some of the happiest times of my childhood.
As a kid, I loved when my family visited Munnar, my mom's hometown, every summer. It was cool there, a welcome break from our hot city. One of my best memories is exploring Munnar with my cousins. We'd go on exciting hikes to places few people knew about. These adventures gave us amazing views and made us even closer. Those trips to Munnar were like treasure chests full of memories I'll never forget.
When I was 7 or 8, my father scolded me one summer evening. I cried a lot. But that night, without a word, he took me on my first trip to the highrange-Rajakkad Devi Temple in Idukki. I didn't even know where we were going. On the bus, I saw fire in the mountains-a sight I'll never forget. We walked through a forest to reach the temple. That quiet journey healed more than words ever could.
I sat on the porch with my grandmother, both of us enjoying ice cream on a warm summer day. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the ice cream cone crunching in my hand. The sun beat down, and I kept wiping my sticky hands on my shirt, trying to keep the ice cream from dripping. We didn’t say much, just enjoyed the quiet and the simple pleasure of a cold treat, as the day slowly passed by.
When I was a child, I loved being creative. The world around me was full of inspiration, and I would use my tools to make art. Drawing and painting brought me so much joy. It was like a special language, expressing what I couldn't put into words. Art became my safe place, where time seemed to stop and I felt free. Those early experiences shaped who I am as an artist today. I'm grateful for the chance to express myself and for how art continues to bring happiness to my life.
My Childhood was filled with little adventures with my friends. We often played cricket in the paddy field after the harvest and in the hot summer months we would jump into the nearby pond for a bath and even chase after and catch a few fish. Another nostalgic part of our friendship was to throw stones at the mango tree to get mangoes. We would gather as many as we could and head to the nearest house where we would get some salt and chilly sprinkled on the raw mangoes. We had similar fun collecting cashew fruit and eating it with salt as well.
I grew up in Kerala, with my hometown in Kollam and my father's ancestral home in Kannur. Every summer, my family and I would spend our vacation at our old tharavadu, joined by all my cousins. I was the youngest, and the frequent power cuts at night made our hide-and-seek games extra thrilling—and a bit scary for me. One night, during a blackout, my cousin heard my voice calling him from a room. But when he checked, it was empty—I was actually in the kitchen with the others. That eerie moment still remains one of our most unforgettable stories.
Childhood was filled with outdoor adventures—playing cricket and football in the paddy fields, cycling through open paths, and swimming on different days. Every game was a mix of excitement and friendly competition, while cycling brought the thrill of speed and exploration. Swimming offered a refreshing change, making each day an adventure of its own.
One of my favourite childhood memories is our regular family trips to Ooty. Both my parents studied there, so it was more than a getaway—it was a return to a place filled with our family’s memories.
Every evening after school, I played cricket with my friends in the narrow lane outside our house. We used a brick for the wicket and argued over every run. My shirt would be dusty, and my knees scratched, but I didn’t care. When it got dark, Amma would call me in with a loud shout. I’d rush home, tired but smiling, already waiting for tomorrow’s match.
When I was in 5th standard, we went on a family trip to Lakshadweep. It was my first time traveling on a ship, and while my mother and brother struggled with seasickness, my father and I enjoyed the breathtaking views of the endless blue sea. We took a ride on a glass-bottom boat, marveling at the mesmerizing underwater world, and later, my brother and I went snorkeling and played on the beach. One of the most unforgettable moments was waking up early to sail into the sea, where we spotted dolphins—a truly magical experience.
As a child, I was always drawn to the little details around me—the shape of clouds, the play of light on walls, or the colors of festival decorations. I loved to sketch whatever caught my eye, often filling the last pages of my schoolbooks with drawings. Even when it rained and we had to stay indoors, I would make colourful paper boats and imagine little worlds for them. I didn’t have fancy tools, just pencils and a lot of curiosity. Looking back, those small, quiet moments helped shape how I see and create today.
As a child, I was always curious about everything around me. I loved borrowing my father’s old camera and trying to take pictures of birds, flowers, and sometimes even my toys. I didn’t always get the perfect shot, but I was so happy just looking through the lens. When I wasn’t clicking photos, I liked making things with clay—tiny cups, animals, or whatever I saw in the photos I took. I enjoyed creating my own little world with my hands and capturing the real one with the camera. It was my way of seeing and building stories.
Basically, I was a cartoon and anime addict, and I was always excited about the powers the characters had. Someone once told us to pray to the three stars that appear in a row for 30 days straight, saying it would give us powers like Goku — infinite strength, the ability to fly through space, and more. So my brother and I prayed every day, but we couldn't stay consistent because the stars didn't always appear. We were disappointed, and years later, we realized they had lied to us all along.
I still remember the time I got to play in the joy of summer vacation. In the morning, when my mother went to wash clothes, she would take me and brother with her. We bathed in the public tap water near the house. Since it was summer then, we used to rely on the tap. Brother used all his strength to draw water for me while my mother washed. I bathed in that water, and after that, I would bathe brother, using my strength to draw water from the tap. By then, after my mother washed her clothes, my mother could leave. The memories of that vacation are still vivid in my mind. Now everything has changed.
When I was a kid, I was obsessed with building things. I’d sneak scraps of cardboard and empty matchboxes from the kitchen and stash them in a corner of the house. While other kids played outside, I stayed in, cutting and gluing pieces together to make tiny vehicles and toy houses. I remember pretending my room was a whole city. I didn’t realize it then, but all those quiet afternoons spent crafting weren’t just games—they were shaping how I saw the world, how I solved problems, and how I found joy in making something out of nothing
When I think of my childhood, the first thing that comes to mind is the sketches I made on the walls of my home. I didn’t care about paper—every wall was a canvas waiting for my imagination. My parents would sometimes scold me, but deep down, I think they loved seeing the house come alive with my drawings. Those scribbles weren’t just random lines—they were stories, characters, and dreams. Even now, whenever I visit that home, I still see those faded lines and smile, because that canvas made me who I am.
As a child, I loved painting and often found myself confined to my room when my father wouldn’t let me go outside. In those quiet hours, I would imagine distant places and bring them to life on paper. I also collected toothpaste and bulb boxes, turning them into miniature buses to play with. Creating my own little world inside that room not only made me happy but also nurtured my creativity and hands-on skills.
Childhood memories are those warm, golden moments that fill our hearts with joy. Growing up in the 90s, I was a huge fan of Superstar Rajinikanth—his movies inspired and motivated me to dream big and become a superstar in my own way. I spent countless hours watching his films, and one of my earliest artworks was a charcoal sketch of Rajini on a wall, marking the beginning of my journey as an artist. I still cherish the simple joys of childhood: jumping into ponds, walking through paddy fields, and picking mangoes—those days were truly magical. Above all, I’m forever grateful to my parents, whose love and support from the very beginning continue to make my life colorful even today
I remember sitting beside my grandfather on the edge of a quiet lake, my small hands gripping the fishing rod while he told me stories between casts. We didn’t catch a single fish, but I felt like I’d been given something far more valuable—his time, his warmth, and a memory
As a child, I loved spending time with my sketchbook. While others played outside, I would sit by the window and draw whatever I saw—birds on the wire, people passing by, or even scenes I imagined. I found joy in adding little details, like the folds in a saree or the shape of leaves swaying in the breeze. Drawing made me feel calm and happy. Even during power cuts, I’d light a candle and continue sketching quietly. It was like my own little world, where every line and colour had a story
I and my lil brother used to collect balaramma and kalikkuduka during our childhood. The intresting part was that we had a diary full of stickers that we collected from those magazines. The diary is almost 12 years now. Still i am careing it with lots of childhood memories inside it.
When I was eight, I lost my first tooth—the center one. It was already loose. My mom always told me, when I was crying from the pain of the shaking tooth, that losing teeth is a sign of aging. Pain, and at the same time, the hiding of it. Like all of us, we hide our pain under 'maturity'.And the funniest coincidence was, the incident took place while I was drawing—the tooth fell on the paper with blood when my brother hit me unknowingly.
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