Why do I have no sentimentally hoarded notebooks from my childhood, no sweet youthful reflections?
This is why. As soon as I graduated to another class, everything got promptly sold off to the raddi wala in the street. He’d cycle by, calling raddiiiiii waalaaaaa and that was it for my Class 4 or 5 memories. White spouse is often shocked at how I am cavalier about our child’s notebooks and artwork (i.e. I don’t save every scrap of paper with a squiggle on it). Well, this is why. My childhood was sold for a few rupees 😂