My birth was a painful one for my mother (Navdurga, called Nani by most and Rukmani Vahu by her in-laws). At the time of birth, my head was rather long and my appearance rather strange (of course, now my head has acquired its normal roundish shape). In six months, I had learnt to crawl on my knees. About ten months or so after my birth, my mother and I, accompanied by my mother’s uncle Dullabhram, went to Bombay, where my father was stationed. I learnt to speak at the age of two. Until then, I could eat no solids and survived on milk and mashed food. When the Great Fire occurred in Samvat 1893, I was in Bombay. I remember rather distinctly that I was playing in the drawing room of our home in Bhagwan Kala building when one of our neighbours, a Vaniya named Dayaram Bhukhan, came rushing in at about noon. He seemed greatly agitated. “All of Surat has burnt down,” he exclaimed. Hearing him, the women tenants in the building who came from Surat (the men, naturally, were at work) were stunned into silence. Those words, “All of Surat has burnt down”, still ring in my ears. The task of reconstruction of the burnt houses that were destroyed in the Vaishakh of Samvat 1893 was finally completed in Samvat 1895. During that period, my mother and I spent some time in Surat. I remember an incident that occurred during this time. While playing with my cousin on the ground opposite our house, I chucked a stone at my cousin and he was hurt. My aunt complained, and my mother, in a fit of anger, thrashed me, tied me to the handle of a large wooden chest and locked me up in the staircase room. I kept screaming and shouting. Hearing my shouts, our help Govan Gajjar took pity on me and let me out. I still remember this incident.