I have a few memories still etched in my mind: one is of beauty (my father's love), and the other is the worst stage of my life, when I was near death's door.
Love:
I still remember holding my father's hand and going for Friday Namaz with him. I was wearing a shirt and dhoti, and we prayed in a beautiful, large, thatched-hut mosque.
Near death:
It was at my neighbor's wedding party. Their home was decorated with colorful lights. I went near them, picked up one of the bulbs, and started singing like a rock star. Suddenly, someone threw me, and I was hurled about 10 feet away. After that, I lost consciousness, and I still can't remember how I woke up. I don't know what happened afterward.