Observations from my Frame of Reference

“This is the story of how a little courageous boy helped catch the thief. Remember fear lies only in your head. Fear is a greater foe than the object of its origin.  Those who can overcome it achieve great things in life.” - As Mr. Mohanty (the literature teacher) finished reading a prose, the school-bell rang declaring the end of today’s school. - “I want all of you to write the answers for the questions in this chapter. Write it in your own words …” - Impatient Bunu could not hear further. He and his backbencher friends had their bags packed and ready. They were waiting for the teacher's signal to run to the playground.  To Bunu’s dismay, the front benchers started assembling around the teacher to ask doubts, delaying dismissal of the class. While coming back from the playground with Amit, Bunu saw Siba, Priyanka and Ritu arguing about something. Amit and Bunu approached them. “Hey you guys!! Siba here is boasting that he had met a ghost near the village graveyard. His cycle

     The corridor was long, stretched infinitely on either side. The ceiling, the floor, and the walls were painted bright white except for the red doors on the walls, resembling the corridor of a hotel room. I knocked on the door, whose nameplate read ‘Debaki Rani Acharya’. My heart filled with nervousness and excitement. A woman in her late twenties opened the door. She greeted me with a smile and asked me to come in.     My presumptions of the size of the room diminished as I stepped in. Like magic, the scenery completely changed. I was standing in front of a cottage.  Everything appeared familiar as I looked around. It was my village, just not the way I remembered it. The house was the predecessor of the one I grew up in. A few mango plants, each not more than a man’s height, were planted near the fences. My earliest memory remembers them, fully grown, seventy-eighty years in the future. In the summers, my sister and I used to be woken up early by grandfather.  We would go to the g

        My younger self, in its solitude, once did something which could be considered taboo in society. I was staying in Bangalore for my job. I spent most of my weekends sleeping, procrastinating, going to movies with friends and occasionally reading a book. I had a long weekend for four days, Thursday to Sunday, owing to Rakshya Bandhan (a Hindu Festival) and some other occasion, I do not remember. My two friends with whom I used to go to the movies and my flatmate were not in Bangalore.     By Friday night, I was sufficiently frustrated by my boredom. Rain in Bangalore circumscribes my motivation for going out. On Saturday, after lazily browsing through youtube and watching some documentaries, its suggestion algorithm led me to some videos, video-journals on the plight of sex workers in cities like Delhi and Kolkata. Disdain of the society towards them dribbles down on their children as well. Lack of health care and education enhances the gap in social inequalities, forcing the gir