I was in class 6 at that time. By virtue of being the first boy in class, I also was appointed the class monitor. I enjoyed the position a lot: any 11-year-old boy who can boss over his friends and appear important while settling disputes is sure to make merry. A recent re-shuffling of the two sections of our class had brought a whole bunch of new kids into 'my' section. Along with them this new Muslim girl had moved into the class, who passed muster as 'beautiful' for me. My young heart had a fascination for this kid. I call this a fascination, maybe a crush but it definitely wasn't love as I understand it now. Nobody in the class really knew what love meant at that time. It was cool to have a girlfriend, everyone in the movies had one, and to have a special girl-friend in class 6 was almost the coolest thing you could do. Now, being the class monitor meant that I was supposed to keep tabs on everyone at all times, especially when a teacher was absent or between pe
The chronicles of Sudipta:
the man, the machine, and everything inbetween