The afternoon bell didn’t just signal the end of the school day; it was the starting gun for a collective, chaotic sprint toward freedom. Before the heavy canvas schoolbags could even hit the floor at home, we were already running back outside, chasing the fading sunlight. The memories are slightly hazy now—softened by time and the rigid structures of adulthood—but the echoes of high-pitched arguments over a disputed run or the stinging slap of a rubber ball remain crisp. We didn’t know it then, but those dusty streets, concrete terraces, and patchily grassed colony parks were our very first classrooms. Long before we ever read a syllabus on human behavior or management, we were absorbing the foundational laws of life through the frantic, unwritten rules of Indian playtime.
Life is a messy collection of stories about somebodies, nobodies, and everyone in between - It's a bitter, sweet symphony this life