I was just 5 years old when I started traveling with my grandparents. Everyone called them Mummyji-Bauji, and so I do. We use to visit our local and outstation relatives for various reasons, be it a child birth ceremony, marriage, retirement, condolence, Katha, Pooja and what not. Being eldest grandchild in the joint family of 19 members I had always been their first choice, actually the only choice, to travel with them. These travels continued till Mummyji passed away. Among many places I accompanied them, I mostly reminisce about my travel to ‘Pushkar’, one of the Hindu pilgrimages and a small town located in the amidst of Aravalli range in north India. A small distance of 12 kms and direct connectivity through public transport from my hometown Ajmer, Pushkar was the easy destination for Mummyji-Bauji. Quite often I think about our 5 days long stay during ‘Kartik Purnima’, a full moon day during October-November. I always felt fulfilled after every visit I had with them to ‘Pushkar’. We never stayed in fancy hotels. The only place to stay was an unadorned, our community owned ‘Dharamshala’. A descent room with big noisy fan in centre and two beds having stained bedsheets, pillows and no attached bathroom was the home for us. We should carry our personal bottles to fill drinking water from ‘Matka’, a mud pitcher, kept at a common place with no filter or RO system fixed. Not all, but many rooms had road side balcony and seeing people and market down from balcony was my biggest charm. This may be because those days my house did not had balcony. At that age, seeing people from balcony was like observing the whole world for me. Mornings at Hindu pilgrimage are all about echo of conch-shell, temple bells, self-purification through bath in holy lakes or rivers and prayers in form of chanting mantras. So, it was for me, waking up at 4 o’clock - taking dip in the holy Pushkar lake – Prabhat pheri kirtan (early morning procession) - visiting few temples – feeding fishes, pigeons or cows - back to ‘Dharamshala’ by 10 o’clock was our daily routine. While returning Bauji always purchased a local sweet called as ‘Malpuas’ and few fruits of Mummyji’s choice. That generation had different way of expressing love and care. Holding either of their hand and seeing the market and pilgrims was the utmost joy for me. Not to laugh, but first time I got to know about a pink and yellow colour papers rolls kept in almost all the shops i.e., toilet paper during my visits to ‘Pushkar’. Honestly, when someone explained me their use later, I liked the idea. Sitting in common place on floor near kitchen with other guests was compulsory to eat your lunch and dinner. Whatever is the menu ‘Dharamshala’ food always tasted scrumptious to me. Post lunch doze was the habit of Mummyji-Bauji. They wanted me also to take a nap, but I never slept. In fact, this was the only time I reconnected in deep about what I have observed. What people were doing, why they were doing so, how they were doing and why they all are doing it differently. I always found me with myself during this time. I developed that habit of reading and understanding Sanskrit ‘Shlokas’ during these visits. I remember exploring spiritual stories of kindness and happiness from the books kept in ‘Dharamshala’. Once Mummyji-Bauji are awake, almost around 4 o’clock, we ate fruits and ‘Malpuas’. Going for Sandhya vandhanam i.e., evening prayers with tintinnabulation from the corridors of all temples and twinkling reflection of light and Deepams in Pushkar lake was always been a mesmerizing experience for me. After dinner at ‘Dharamshala’, I use to play ‘Majire’, a musical instrument and sang ‘Bhajans’ in a congregational singing of spiritual songs. Bauji always took us out for a ‘Sikora’ of ‘Kesar Wala Kadai Ka Doodh’ i.e., mud pot of flavoured milk between 8:30-9:00 o’clock. On back to ‘Dharamshala’ I was the first one to sleep, as I have to wake up at 4 o’clock in the next morning. Today, my son Rithul and me speak a lot about his and mine childhood memories. We do talk about an influence of these tiny events on our self-identity and especially the choices we make. But frivolously he also questions me the ‘why’ of my favourite memory. Though, I could not persuade him with the answers I gave, but deep down my heart I am convinced that may not be the only, but my ‘Pushkar’ visit is one of my favourite childhood memories.