I flew to England on Thursday, and went to see the house I spent the first two years of my life in.
I could remember the street from my last visit, when I was eight, but not a single thing apart from that.
The neighbours were still the same, and remembered my family. A very sweet old lady had bought the house when my parents moved out, and she was still living there. She invited us in, served us tea and cake.
I couldn`t help but compare myself to Akirno. He is now the age I was when I moved to Switzerland. Will he retain no memories at all of his life in India, and of the eight months I spent living in his family?