Words of Wisdom:

"bit** is not profane" - Rahul

Autobiography of Myself

  • Date Submitted: 09/24/2014 06:39 PM
  • Flesch-Kincaid Score: 79.1 
  • Words: 604
  • Essay Grade: no grades
  • Report this Essay

Now I am a student of class XI. I am a girl of 17 years old. I read in Sarsuna High School. But when I look back I see my childhood days. Those days seem to me to be the most precious days in my life. My autobiography is simple unlike others who have achieved great success in life. There is not much to tell about it.  

I was born in a remote village in the district of 24 Paraganas (South). I came of a middle class family. I have a younger brother and an elder sister.   Ours was a joint family. My parents were simple yet very broad in mind. The faint recollection of my early child life gives me blurred images of my grandfather. He was a school teacher and the villagers respected him very much. The poor and illiterate village people would assemble in our house every afternoon and my grandfather gossiped with them and often gave them necessary advices. I would sit on his lap and listened to his words with great wonder. Little did I understand what he would say but it amused me much. When I grew up a little more I realized how wise and prudent person my grandfather was. I learnt lessons from my grandfather. I always tried to follow his ways of life. He was my mentor, my philosopher, my guide and above all an old friend of a little girl.

My grandmother was a typical house maker. She had great love and care for everybody in our family. I miss her loving care even today. I remember when I would fall ill my grandmother would spend many a sleepless night waiting on me. She made it a custom in the family to take the night supper sitting all together. It was a moment of joy and mirth. We the little ones would sit on the ground to eat. But the elder members of the family would eat food sitting at dining table.

The saddest day of my life was when my grandfather passed away. My world seemed to be void. Then I was hardly of ten years of age. I remember I wept very much on his death. It took me a long time to overcome the grief.

My father...


Express your owns thoughts and ideas on this essay by writing a grade and/or critique.

  1. No comments