When I was growing up as a child into adolescence and later adulthood in the 70s and the 80s there was this concept of a family selecting the same clothing for the entire members to stitch their clothes. Sounds funny right! But that’s true and many of my age who had grown up in the same era would agree to me. The Father and the Sons would invariably be wearing the same designed shirts and pants and sometimes even the skirts and dresses stitched for the daughters would also be of the same cloth and to stretch it further, the mother’s blouse too. And when such families walked out of their house, they used to look like a herd of animals of the same breed. This surely had an advantage too though, let me be candid to admit, and that is that they would never get lost in a crowd.

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During my childhood days, whenever I used to travel on the highway with my parents, I and my sibling used to pass our time counting the trucks that passed by and yelling out those words written invariably behind every one of them, which read “Horn OK please”.

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My tryst with thyroid dates back to the time, more than two decades ago when I decided to settle down in life.

Quite an odd correlation, many would wonder but it’s true for me. I recollect the day I had taken my newly married bride to my hometown to get her introduced and seek the blessings of the elders in the family, as had perhaps become the ritual and custom.

 

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