These are a few of my memories from when I was quite small which have somehow remained with me pretty clearly.
The one that is the farthest is of me wanting to go with my father wherever he was going. I don't remember the details but I do remember him dressing up after lunch, putting on his helmet (a half face one with the peak which can be fitted on with studs which he used to wear with his photosensitive riding glasses) and me wanting very badly to go with him. I do remember realizing vaguely that it was absurd (or maybe not) but still crying my heart out to go with him. I still remember quite clearly, me standing at the door bawling and he getting on his scooter and riding by. The front door led to a partly open garage and you can see the road that leads off to outside the colony and I still remember seeing him ride by without looking back. Thinking back, he probably did feel bad or maybe he was just irritated.
The second one is a memory of one of my school days. School used to get over around 1:30PM and we used to go back home for lunch. Lots of kids in my colony went to the same school and there used to be auto-rikshaw men who ran shifts just for getting kids to school and back. So my sister and I used to take an autorikshaw to school too. Well so most days, after school, we had to wait for our autorikshaw to show up and so a bunch of us usually ran around and play ed during the wait. Well so this day that I remember, I come running down from my class and as usual swing my bag over a small parapet which separates the class rooms from a small playground in the front. I swing it right over my head, over the parapet and bang it against the wall and then let go so that it stays there waiting for me to pick it up when the autorikshaw comes. But then I see a man who has been watching me do all that from maybe 4 feet away and realize that its my father with some guilt. And he goes so thats why your bags don't last or something to that effect. I don't remember the riding home part but I do remember the look on his face. It had the pleasure of catching me in the act, a bit of sternness but also affection.
The third memory I have is when I had gone with my father on the scooter to a shop. I don't remember what shop but I do remember there was someone else with us. So I guess I was riding in the front, standing on the foot boards of the scooter with my head just below my fathers (later years had me have to lean down so that he could see). The scooter was a Bajaj Chetak and it is a pretty durable decent scooter (I had a friend of mine in college who had one and it still rocked). Well so he goes into the shop leaving me on the scooter and I remember playing with the break pedal on the foot board. Then I remember playing with the accelerator on the handle bar and I found that it got stuck sometimes at maybe quarter throttle. Most of the times I couldn't get it to stay stuck at that position - it would snap back, but finally I did manage to keep it that way. I wanted to know what would happen when he finally came back and started it up. I had no idea that it needs to be started in neutral (and so would cause no harm) and had a vague notion that it was a bad idea to have the throttle open. So yeah, I was evil even then. So he comes out and of course the first thing he does is hold the accelerator open before cranking the kick start and he realizes what I have done. So he looks at me and tells his friend what I have been up to and I feel the guilt rise up again and he has that same look on his face - but I see a trace of puzzlement too - like he is thinking how did I end up creating this?