A bungled-up school assignment and a pen-pal to the rescue
Nandita da Cunha writes on a childhood favourite, a pen pal and discovering home anew
Daya slammed her school-bag down on her bed and bit her lip hard, trying not to cry. “Everything ok?” her mother called out. In reply, she slammed her door and slid down against it, tears now flowing. Everything was not ok. Her mind returned to the scene she’d tried to blank out, on the never-ending bus ride home.
During her favourite period (English), her favourite teacher (Miss Bimla) had called her up in front of everyone, and held up her essay. Daya went pink, remembering how she’d strutted up, waiting for the usual praise.
“Daya, did you write this story yourself?”
“Every word,” she’d replied, chin up.
Miss Bimla began reading. “The morning sun filtered in through the leaves of the old oak tree, when—” Here she stopped and sighed.
Rating: 5