I WAS three when I lost my first cousin brother. He lived with us and I barely have any memories of him, except for the few still photographs of me and him together. We lived happily in a big house near a forest reserve.
Monkeys and snakes were our constant companions. There were government bungalows here and there, but they were far apart. There was a canopy of tall trees and the singing of birds and sound of insects filled the air. Otherwise, all was quiet around us. It was indeed an isolated enclave, and the peace was occasionally broken by the distant sounds of motor vehicles.