Vicharak

Childhood has a fragrance of its own — a blend of dust, laughter, and sunshine that never quite fades. People often say their childhood was wonderful, and so do I — because ours was painted with the simple joys of small-town life in Jharia. I was twelve then, a student of Class 6 at Kids Garden , one of the better-known schools in town. Every day, as the clock struck three, the bell would ring, and the schoolyard would burst into life. Bags were swung over shoulders, water bottles dangled by threads, and laughter rolled across the gate like an untamed tide. We were a small gang — Harsh, Nitesh, Rohit, and I. The world seemed complete with just us in it. Rohit and Nitesh were the entertainers — their banter so quick, so effortless, that it could give today’s stand-up comedians a run for their money. Some days, we’d stop by the vendor near the corner to buy kala amawat or ber . Two rupees — that was enough to buy a slice of joy for all of us. My home was the farthest, so I’d be the...