'People-work'

This is Ruchika holding up her class 6 project on 'water conservation' which got the highest marks in her class. Encouraged by this victory, she has since made projects on topics such as dances of India, health benefits of sports and types of food. She walks into the living room, where I also have my work desk, and announces the topic of her latest project, saying "Mujhey information nikaal ke do (Please pull out the information for me) ". She starts the conversation with a half apologetic smile and an already-victorious glint in eye. And within minutes, as the google search throws up stuff, her face turns intent, her eyes flit across the screen with an urgency and speed as though if she were not fast enough all this information may just go away out of her reach, never to return. Then she selects what she finds useful. Takes a print of a funny illustration and laughs out loud. Then she puts her finger on the screen on a word she can neither pronounce nor ...

Childhood fevers have a place of reverence in my memory ledger. They have created my template of good values and bad. They have taught me how to be cared for, and how to care – in that order. They have given my delirium a script and a meaning, place and purpose. These were not long bouts of debilitating illness. Just a few days of high pitched flaming fevers, sometimes from the burning sun, sometimes from prancing about in untimely rain; at other times, for unexplained reasons. In April 1979, a Hindu-Muslim riot broke out in the small town of Jamshedpur in eastern India, built around India’s first iron and steel industry. I was born and raised here. As all communal riots do, the reason was small and simple based on a sinister plan. It was a popular Hindu festival on that day; devotees were to gather in a procession which would go across the city carrying religious flags to celebrate.