The Recycled Virgin

Some days are so eventful that it is almost impossible to hold all the events of that day in one place in your head. Or maybe, you can hold them together, but when talking of that day, some events go untold because of the enormity of certain other events of that day. This is one such untold tale from perhaps the most eventful and significant day of my life.

After thirty minutes or so at the hospital, when it was clear that I was out of the woods, Reese, Julia and Hanna decided to go to a restaurant to have dinner. Sushmita and I were to join them later upon my discharge. I was still in a daze, understandably so, and went along with their plans. Having others make plans for me in my condition suited me just fine. Also, it was after all just day two in Morocco and I had barely gotten to know three of my four co-travellers. I was still in my people-pleasing mode.

After my discharge, our driver brought us the fancy French restaurant where the others were. My legs were a bit shaky, but I felt okay otherwise. I thought the restaurant was too dark and the food servings very small. But that was okay because everything tasted like straw to me, even the delectable foie gras that I had never before (or after) had the occasion to eat.

Reese had struck up a loud conversation with two middle-aged men at the table next to ours. One was a tall reasonably good-looking white guy and the other was a heavily-bearded stouter shorter middle-eastern man. Their accents were unfamiliar to me, but the intonation not! Both were flirting with Reese and she was flirting right back!

A little description of Reese is called for here. She was a tall big-boned big-smile girl from Texas in her mid-thirties, always dressed in fancy wife beaters and shorts. She had a whole stack of them and wore them every day during the entire trip. She could outtalk anyone, and I came to know later, outshout anyone too. I never saw her having a quiet one-on-one conversation with anyone. I don’t think she could manage that. She was loud and messy, but somehow innocuous.

My legs were still shaky when I got up to use the restroom. Upon my return, Reese was no longer sitting at our table. Where was she? There! On the middle-eastern guy’s lap! Given her height, she was towering over him, but still looking coy as she giggled and tittered.  

I did a double take despite myself and then sneaked a quick look at my companions to see their reactions. Sushmita and Hanna were busy staring at their empty plates, but Julia was looking daggers at Reese.  I took it all in slowly. Here I was, barely out of death’s jaws and now somehow part of this absurd scene.

I waited for someone to say or do something, but nothing! Finally, I muttered something about being tired and wanting to get back to our riad for the night. Reese wanted to stay back on the man’s lap while we left, but Julia would have nothing of that. By then, I didn’t have the energy to follow what was happening, but do remember that all five of us got in our rented car and were driven to our riad. Once there, I quickly climbed up to my room and got in my bed before calling mom to tell her about my horrific drug reaction.

Soon after, I heard some commotion right outside the riad. It was close to midnight and the raised voices of two women could be heard clearly in the quiet neighbourhood. Could it be Reese and Julia? Sushmita, who was sharing my room, ran outside. The screaming stopped as quickly as it had started. Sushmita confirmed that it was Reese and Julia having a very loud argument, which was now settled. Totally exhausted, I drifted off to sleep without finding out anything else.

In the morning, I found Julia sitting at the rooftop breakfast table, smoking her cigarette. Soon, Hanna and Sushmita joined us. No sign of Reese. When I asked after her, I was told she had just returned to the riad after spending the night with Jean at his hotel.

Jean?

Yeah, the French guy at the table last night!

The French guy? But she was sitting on the other guy’s lap.

Oh, that was nothing. It’s the French guy she was interested in.

I let that sink in before I asked about the commotion of the previous night. This is what I was told.

Upon our return to the riad, Reese wanted to go to the men’s hotel, who had followed us in their car and were waiting for her to get into their car.  Julia was totally against it and was reminding Reese of their pact of never leaving each other side throughout the trip. Apparently, the four of them had made such a pact before the trip. Finally, Julia let go and Reese went with the men in their car to their hotel. 

I asked Julia what changed her mind. She said it was when Reese screamed that she hadn’t had sex in a year that Julia felt sorry for her and backed off.

“No sex in a year! Can you believe it! That’s like being a recycled virgin! I felt so sorry for her. How could I stop her then.”

How indeed, thought a 12-year-a-recycled virgin to herself! 

Shades of Emotions 1

I wrote this story as a proof to young people (my students of Nishtha and BSA) that we all feel multiple emotions each day- we are just not paying attention to them. An increased emotional vocabulary often means an increased control on reactions to emotions.

It never ceases to surprise me that most of my students are totally unaware of emotional vocabulary beyong Happy, Sad and Angry. In this story, students recognize these emotions: Frustration/annoyance, Compassion, Irritation, Relief, Contentment, Joy, Embarrassment, Regret, Envy, Arrogance, Guilt, Relief, Excitement. 

This is the first story along the themes above- this time the protaganist is a boy. 

A Day in the Life of…

I looked in the mirror one last time. My hairstyle looked good. The new gel is doing the job it promised, I thought to myself.

I didn’t realize that Kiran, my little sister, was in my room and watching me. When our eyes met, she ran her hands in her hair and twisted her body, exaggerating my pose. I chased her out of my room. Can’t I have any privacy in this house?

In college, I looked out for Anaira all day. She didn’t come to class. She wasn’t in the canteen at lunch break. Where was she? Had anything happened to her? These thoughts filled my head. I couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else.

Not even Sid’s silly jokes could uplift my mood, and they were aplenty.

I saw Anaira as I stepped out of the music class. She was in the corridor, talking to someone. Just looking at her, it felt as if a load was lifted from my shoulders.

She smiled when she looked up and saw me. Her smile lit up the corridor. As I walked towards her, I felt I was walking on clouds.

Until I saw who she was with. It was Anshul - everyone’s favourite Head Boy!

She told me that her cycle was stolen in the morning, which was why she couldn’t come to classes on time. But Anshul had seen some young boys with her cycle and managed to get it back.

I didn’t hear the details. I just kept thinking why it wasn’t me who had found her cycle. Why did I sit in classes instead of finding out what was wrong? Why was Anshul always the hero?

On my way back, Sid joined me. We had plans to play basketball in the park. When I told him about Anaira’s cycle, he said it seemed all too convenient that Anshul happened to see the boys with the cycle. Too convenient!

It suddenly became clear to me. It had to be Anshul’s scheme to gain Anaira’s attention, like in old Hindi movies! Anshul is more than capable of such a stunt. What a scheming dog!

I ran back towards Anaira’s house to share this thought with her, hoping to see her before she went inside. I wanted to avoid her mother, who always looked at me as if I was a worm. Her father was different- kind and gentle, though he was a famous lawyer. I looked up to him and wanted to be like him when he grew up.

When I saw Anaira, she was standing with Shalini outside her house. I wanted to tell her what I had realized about Anshul, but suddenly felt awkward. What if I was wrong? What proof did I have? What if she thought I was the one scheming to make Anshul look bad?

As I stood there staring at them tongue tied, Shalini started laughing. I felt like a fool and wished I had never come there.

Anaira hushed Shalini and came towards me, still holding her cycle. She asked me if she could borrow my notes for today’s classes that she had missed, adding that I had the best notes in the class. Best Notes!

I took out my notebooks and handed them to her, without saying a word. I didn’t mention Anshul and my suspicions to her.  He just wasn’t important in that moment.

As I walked back towards where Sid was waiting for me, I felt that the world was beautiful again!

_______________________________________________________________________

Here is a Hindi transalation of the story, done by Sonika. 

एक दिन प्रतिदिन…

जाने से पहले मैंने एक आखिरी बार शीशे में देखा। मेरे बाल अच्छे लग रहे थे। तो वह जेल्ल का प्रॉमिस ठीक ही निकला।

पता नहीं कब मेरी छोटी बहन मेरे कमरे में आई और मुझे देखने लगी। जब हमारी आंखें मिलीं  तो उसने मेरी नकल उतारते हुए अपने बालों में हाथ फेरा। मैंने उसे फटकार के कमरे से बाहर निकाला । क्या इस घर में मेरी कोई प्राइवेसी नहीं है?

स्कूल (College) में सारा दिन में अनायरा को ढूंढता रहा। वह क्लास में नहीं आई। लंच ब्रेक में भी कैंटीन में नहीं थी। कहां थी वह?  उसे कुछ हो तो नहीं गया था?  यही ख्याल मेरे दिमाग में उठ रहा थ। मैं किसी और बात पर ध्यान नहीं दे पा रहा था। 

यहां तक की सिद्धार्थ के इतने सारे चुटकुले भी मेरा मूड ठीक नहीं कर पा रहे थे। 

जैसे ही मैं म्यूजिक क्लास में से बाहर निकला, मैंने अनायरा को देखा। वह स्कूल के कॉरिडोर में खड़ी किसी से बातें कर रही थी। उसे देखते ही मुझे लगा मेरे कंधों से कोई बोझ उतर गया हो। उसने मुझे देखा और मुस्कुराने लगी। उसकी मुस्कान से जैसे सारा कॉरिडोर रोशन हो गया हो। जब मैं उसकी ओर बढ़ा मुझे ऐसे महसूस हुआ जैसे मैं बादलों में चल रहा हूँ।

जब मैंने देखा वह किसके साथ थी, तब मैं बादलों से जैसे गिर कर ज़मीन पे आ गया। वह और कोई नहीं अंशुल था - सबका चहेता हेड बॉय!

अनायरा ने मुझे बताया कि सुबह उसकी साइकिल चोरी हो गई थी, जिसके कारण वह समय से क्लास में नहीं आ पाई। लेकिन अंशुल ने उसकी साइकिल कुछ लड़कों के पास देखी और वह उसे वापस लाने में कामयाब रहा।

मैंने उसकी बाकी बातें सुनी ही नहीं। मैं बस यही सोचता रहा कि मैंने क्यों नहीं ढूंढी    उसकी साइकिल। बाहर क्या चल रहा था, यह जानने की बजाये मैं क्लास में ही क्यों बैठा रहा? अंशुल ही हमेशा हीरो क्यों बनता है?

छुट्टी होने पर सिद्धार्थ मेरे साथ वापस घर चल पड़ा। हमारा पार्क में बास्केटबॉल खेलने का प्लान था। जब मैंने उसे अनायरा की साइकिल चोरी के बारे में बताया तो उसने कहा दाल में कुछ तो काला है! इतनी आसानी से अंशुल को साइकिल कैसे मिल गई?

तब मुझे समझ में आ गया। यह सब अंशुल की चाल थी अनायरा का ध्यान अपनी ओर करने के लिए, ठीक जैसे की हिंदी फिल्मों में होता है। अंशुल ऐसे कामों में बहुत तेज़ है। चालबाज़ कहीं का!

इससे पहले कि अनायरा घर के अंदर चली जाए, मैं उसे यह बात बताने के लिए उसके घर की ओर दौड़ा। मैं उसकी मां से नहीं मिलना चाहता था, क्योंकि वह मुझे ऐसी देखती हैं जैसे मैं कोई गली का कीड़ा हूँ। वह न ही मिले तो अच्छा है। उसके पिता की बात और है, वह बहुत अलग हैं। एक नामी वकील होने के बावजूद वह दयालु और नरम स्वभाव के हैं। मैं बड़ा होकर उनकी तरह ही बनना चाहता हूँ।  

तभी मैंने अनायरा को उसके घर के बाहर शालिनी के साथ खड़े देखा। मैंने सोचा मैं उसे अंशुल के बारे में बता दूँ। पर अचानक से मुझे थोड़ा सा अजीब लगा। क्या पता मैं गलत हूँ? मेरे पास क्या सबूत है? क्या पता वह सोच ले कि मैं ही अंशुल को बुरा दिखाना चाहता हूँ?

मैं निशब्द होकर वहीं खड़ा रहा। मेरी यह हालत देख शालिनी हंसने लगी। मेरे गाल लाल हो गए। मुझे लगा काश मैं वहां आया ही नहीं होता!

अनायरा ने शालिनी को चुप करवाया और साइकिल पकड़े हुए ही मेरे पास आयी। उसने मुझ से आज के क्लासेज के नोट्स मांगे और साथ ही यह कहा कि मेरे नोट्स क्लास में सबसे अच्छे होते हैं।

सबसे अच्छे!  मेरे नोट्स!

मैंने चुपचाप अपनी नोटबुक्स निकालीं और उसे थमा दीं। मैंने न अंशुल का नाम लिया न ही अपने शक का ज़िक्र किया। उस समय यह बातें कोई मायने ही नहीं रखती थीं।

जब मैं वापस सिद्धार्थ के पास जा रहा था, तो मुझे ऐसे लग रहा था कि दुनिया सच में बहुत ही खूबसूरत है।  

If Men Could Menstruate (English and Hindi)

I wrote this piece for my FiRST PiCk theatre group, who performed it twice in 2025. It was performed twice again by my Nishtha Sponsorship students in front of an audience of Nishtha funders, supporters and well wishers. The piece is derived from a satirical essay written by Gloria Steinem in 1978. I repurposed it as a dialog and Indianized it. You can read the original essay here. 

https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23293691.2019.1619050

If Men Could Menstruate

(6 actors standing facing the audience. While talking they do look at each other and laugh when called for, but their focus is on the audience.)

Woman 1: Have you ever thought what would happen if men could menstruate?

Woman 2: Wait a minute…Menstruate! Why is it called menstruation? Shouldn’t it be “womenstruation”?

All shrug and shake their heads.

Woman 1: I was saying, what if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate and women could not?

Woman 2: Of course, then menstruation would become a desirable, masculine event.

Woman 3: Yes! Men would brag about how long and how much.

Woman 4: The onset of periods would be a proof of manhood. Boys would mark it with religious rituals and stag parties.

Woman 5: Let’s not forget sanitary supplies, ladies! All sanitary supplies would be government funded or at least tax-free. And men certainly wouldn’t be hiding them in newspapers!  

Woman 6: Or black plastic bags!

(All look at each other knowingly and laugh!)

Woman 6: Pharmacies will be filled with Man-pads and Bro-tampons! No “Whisper” for them!

Woman 1 (shrugging delicately): Or Carefree! Or Sofy! Or Paree!

Woman 2: Street guys would brag “I’m a three-pad man. “

Woman 3: If someone said to them “Man, you lookin’ good!”, they would give high fives and say…(Woman 2 and 3 high five at the right time.)

Woman 2: “Yeah, man, it’s period time!” They certainly wouldn’t be using euphemisms like “I’m down” or “It’s that time of the month!”.

Everyone looks at each other and nods!

Woman 4: Newspapers would carry such healines- “SHARK-SCARE THREATENS MENSTRUATING MEN”. Or “JUDGE PARDONS RAPIST, CITING MONTHLY STRESS.”

Woman 5: And what about movies- “Khoon ka Rishta” and “Blood Brothers” would become popular movie titles once again! Starring…Tiger and Varun!

Woman 6: And can you imagine men suffering cramps every month? I bet the Government would fund a National Institute of Dysmenorrhea to stamp out period pain!

Woman 1: Absolutely! The medical community would probably start studying “Male Premenstrual Syndrome (M-PMS)” and come up with all sorts of fancy treatments.

Woman 2: I can see a support group called “Menstrual Men Mm-anonymous- Em Em Em!”

Everyone laughs!

Woman 3: And lo and behold- menstruation leave would be compulsory in all organizations.

Woman 4: And surely, there would be flexible work hours for menstruating men! How can the poor men work in such discomfort?

Woman 5: Okay, maybe then, women will play a bigger role than men in religious organizations and military, because they do not menstruate!

Woman 6: Quite the opposite, my dear! Military men would insist that only men could serve in the Army because they are used to “giving” blood. They would be heroes because they bleed and suffer pain on a monthly basis.

Woman 1: Religious fundamentalists will insist women are impure because they do NOT get rid of their impurities every month! (Said with an eye roll.)

Woman 5: I don’t get it. Aren’t these the very things they say women CANNOT do because they menstruate?

Woman 6: That’s exactly the point. It’s got nothing to do with menstruation per se and everything to do with who is stronger in society.

Woman 1: If menstruation becomes the attribute of the strong, it would suddenly become a positive thing. Logic has nothing to do with it!

Woman 5: Logic has nothing to do with it?

Woman 2: Yes, logic has nothing to do with it. Just as white people have made everyone think that their white skin makes them superior. Actually, the only thing white skin really does is…

Woman 3: …make them more sensitive to UV rays and to wrinkles. You see, an attribute becomes coveted just because it is the attribute of the powerful.

Woman 5: So, what you are saying is, even if menstruation moves to men, nothing will really change for us women, is it!

(Everyone shakes their heads)

Woman 4: Well, something will. Think of all the extra caregiving we will have to do for our poor menstruating brothers, sons and husbands!

Everyone shows frustration! 

Here is the Hindi translation of the previous piece, done with a lot of effort by Sonika Thakur!

अगर पुरुषों को माहवारी होती तो क्या होता

महिला 1: क्या आपने कभी सोचा है कि अगर पुरुषों को माहवारी होती तो क्या होता?

महिला 2: एक मिनट.... माहवारी! माहवारी तो महामारी की तरह सुनाई देता है,जैसे कि कोई बीमारी हो।

महिला 1: हाँ सच में! मैं कह रही थी कि अगर अचानक कोई जादू हो जाए और माहवारी महिलाओं की बजाये पुरुषों को आने लगे तो?

महिला 2: तब तो माहवारी बेशक एक बहुत ही आकर्षक, मर्दाना, गर्व करने वाली चीज़ बन जायेगी।

महिला 3: हां! पुरुष इस बात पर डींगें हांकेंगे कि उनके पीरियड कितने लम्बे और कितने ज़्यादा चले।

महिला 4: माहवारी का शुरू होना मर्दानगी का सबूत माना जाएगा। लड़के इसे धार्मिक रिवाज़ों और स्टैग पार्टी के रूप में मनाएंगे।

महिला 5: और सेनेटरी पैड्स की तो बात ही मत पूछो! सारे सेनेटरी प्रोडक्ट्स सरकार द्वारा मुफ्त में दिए जायेंगे या टैक्स फ्री होंगे। और पुरुष उन्हें अखबार में छिपा कर तो बिल्कुल नहीं ले जायेंगे!

महिला 6: और न ही काले प्लास्टिक के थैलों में!

महिला 6: दवाइयों की दुकानों पर हे "भाई -पैड्स" और "यारों का यार टेम्पोंस" भरे दिखेंगे! आदमियों के लिए कोई “व्हिस्पर” नहीं होगा!

महिला 1: न ही केयरफ्री! न सोफी! न परी!

महिला 2: गलियों के लड़के शेखी बघारेंगे कि, “मैं तो तीन पैड वाला आदमी हूँ।“

महिला 3: अगर उन्हें कोई कहे, “भाई, तुम आज बहुत अच्छे लग रहे हो!” तो वह हाई-फाइव करते हुए कहेंगे...

महिला 2: “हां, भाई, क्यों नहीं, माहवारी का समय जो है! इसी से तो चेहरे पे चमक आती है!” वे यह कह के कभी नहीं छुपाएंगे कि “मैं डाउन हूं” या “महीने का वह समय है!”

महिला 4: अखबारों में ऐसी सुर्खियां होंगी - “माहवारी वाले पुरुषों में शार्क के हमले का खतरा!” या “जज ने बलात्कारी को मासिक तनाव का हवाला दे कर छोड़ दिया!”

महिला 5: और फिल्मों में क्या होगा -"खून का रिश्ता” और “ख़ूनी भाई” फिर से सुपरहिट शीर्षक बन जायेंगे! और हीरो होंगे - टाइगर श्रॉफ और वरुण धवन!

महिला 6: और सोचिए, पुरुष क्या हर महीने पेट में मरोड़े झेलेंगे? सरकार तो उनके लिए पीरियड का दर्द मिटाने के लिए राष्ट्रीय “दर्द मिटाओ दर्द हटाओ” संस्थान खोल देगी!

महिला 1: बिल्कुल! मेडिकल समुदाय “मेल प्री मेंस्ट्रूअल सिंड्रोम (M-PMS)” पर रिसर्च शुरू कर देगा और बड़े-बड़े इलाज निकाल लेगा।

महिला 2: मुझे तो एक सपोर्ट ग्रुप भी दिख रहा है “माहवारी के मारे मर्द - एम् एम् एम्!”

महिला 3: और देखना! माहवारी की छुट्टी सभी संस्थानों में अनिवार्य हो जायेगी।

महिला 4: और निश्चित तौर पर माहवारी से पीड़ित मर्दों को जल्दी छुट्टी दे दी जायेगी! बेचारे इतनी तकलीफ में कैसे काम करेंगे?

महिला 5: अच्छा! तब शायद महिलायें धार्मिक संस्थानों और सेना में मर्दों से बड़ा योगदान देंगी। क्योंकि उन्हें माहवारी नहीं आएगी!

महिला 6: इसका बिलकुल उल्टा होगा, जानेमन! सेना के आदमी यह ज़ोर देंगे कि पुरुष ही सेना में रह सकते हैं, क्योंकि वे “खून देने” के आदी हैं। वे हीरो होंगे क्योंकि वे हर महीने खून बहाते हैं और दर्द सहते हैं।

महिला 1: धार्मिक कट्टरपंथी कहेंगे कि महिलायें अपवित्र हैं क्योंकि वे हर महीने अपनी अशुद्धियाँ नहीं निकालतीं।

महिला 5: हद्द हो गई यह तो! क्या ये वही चीज़ें नहीं हैं जो वे कहते हैं कि हम महिलायें माहवारी की वजह से नहीं कर सकतीं? यह क्या बात हुई।

महिला 6: बस यही तो बात है। इसमें माहवारी का कोई लेना देना नहीं है। असली मुद्दा तो यह है कि समाज में ज़्यादा ताकतवर कौन है।

महिला 1: अगर माहवारी ताकतवरों को आने लगे, तो माहवारी अचानक एक पॉज़िटिव चीज़ बन जाएगी। तर्क या लॉजिक से इसका कोई लेना देना नहीं है।

महिला 5: तर्क से इसका कोई लेना देना नहीं है?

महिला 2: हाँ, तर्क से इसका कोई लेना देना नहीं है? जैसे कि गोरे लोगों ने सब को विश्वास दिला दिया है कि उनकी गोरी त्वचा उन्हें बाकियों से श्रेष्ठ बनाती है। जबकि वास्तव में गोरी त्वचा…

महिला 3: … उन्हें यू वी किरणों के प्रति ज़्यादा सेंसिटिव बनाती है और झुर्रियों का कारण बनती हैं। मतलब कि कोई भी गुण सिर्फ इसलिए ज़्यादा मांग में होता है क्योंकि वह ताकतवरों का चिन्ह होता है।

महिला 5: तो तुम यह कह रही हो कि अगर माहवारी महिलाओं की बजाये पुरुषों को आना शुरू हो जाए, तब भी महिलाओं कि लिए कुछ नहीं बदलेगा। है ना!

महिला 4: बदलेगा!

(सभी औरतें कहेंगी “क्या”?)

महिला 4: यही..… कि हमें अपने बेचारे माहवारी वाले भाइयों, बेटों और पतियों की और ज़्यादा सेवा करनी पड़ेगी!

 

Play- The Red Jacket

I recently converted a children's story I had written last year into a play for young kids. Many things need to be done to convert a story into a play that actors can enact out. Several characters had to be added so that more children could be part of the play. Each character had to have at least a few lines. Each character also had to be given a certain characteristics (pun unintended), such as class clown or empathetic friend. Their lines had to be in line with their characteristics. The key players (mother and Anya) also had to be fleshed out more. Finally, not everything could be converted into dialog, so I had to introduce a Narrator to hold the story together. 

The Red Jacket

Narrator, Anya, Raghav, Shreya, Palak, Mother, Father (only voice)

Scene 1: Narrator, Anya, Mother

Narrator: This is a story of a young girl, Anya. Look at her. Doesn’t she look very pretty in her red jacket? Her favourite uncle had gifted it to her just last week. She loves it so much! So much, that she wears it every day!

Mother: Anya, take off the jacket. It will get dirty. You should wear it when winter sets in properly.

Anya: But mom, what if I…

Mother: No ifs and buts! Take it off now.

Narrator: Do you think Anya took off her jacket? Uh-uh! She kept it on. It was Diwali, and she wanted to look special.

Scene 2: Narrator, Anya, Raghav, Palak, Shreya

Narrator: All the children had gathered in the town park. They played with colourful sparklers, writing their names in the air, and burst noisy crackers. There was so much fun to be had that evening!

(Children playing around the narrrator, bursting crackers and lighting sparklers.)

Raghav: Hey Anya, what is that on your jacket?

Anya: What?

Palak: Is that a hole? Oh no!

Anya (turning around to see): A hole? Where? Where?

Shreya (Pointing to the pocket): There! Could be that sparkler you were holding burnt that hole!

Anya: No, no, no! How could this happen! It’s my favourite jacket. It’s ruined now!

Raghav: It’s just a hole. What’s the big deal! My shirt has so many holes.

Anya:  Oh no! Mummy will get so mad. She had asked me not to wear it today. I should have listened to her and put it away in the cupboard. Oh, what will I do now? I am in big trouble! (Starts crying)

Raghav: Stop crying. It’s not such a big deal.

Palak: Maybe not for you, Raghav. But it’s her favourite jacket. Oh Anya! (Hugging Anya)

Shreya: Don't cry Anya. You said aunty asked you to keep it away. That’s what you should do. Just put it away. Nobody will know.

Palak: Except you!

Raghav (looking at Anya naughtily): And me!

(Everyone looks angrily at Raghav)

Narrator: When Anya got home, the only question in her mind was where to hide the ruined jacket. She had to hide it someplace no one would know. Not the cupboard certainly. Then where? Aah! Under her mattress!

Scene 3: Narrator, Anya, Mother, Father’s voice

Narrator: A month had passed. Anya’s uncle was back in town and the family was going to his house to meet him.

Mother: Anya, wear the red jacket today. Your uncle will be so happy to see you in it.

Anya (saying half-heartedly): Okay, sure. 

(Looks at the audience and makes a sad face and gestures "what to do" with her hands. Then, pretends to look for it in the cupboard). 

Anya: I can’t find it. I don’t know where it is, mummy.

Mother: Have you looked in your cupboard? Don't make me come there and look for it! 

Father’s voice: Everyone, out! Let’s go. We are already late.

Scene 4: Narrator, Anya, Mother

Narrator: Anya thought she had gotten away because everyone was in a hurry. She thought the jacket was forgotten. But her mother had not forgotten. The next day, she called Anya to her room.

Mother: Anya, have you given your red jacket to one of your friends? Tell me honestly!

Anya: What? No! I had kept it in my cupboard when you asked me to put it away.

Mother: It’s not in your cupboard. I checked. Where IS it?

Anya: I don’t know. I can’t find it.

Mother: Then surely you have given it to Palak or Shreya, haven’t you?

Anya: No, I would never do that. That’s my favourite jacket. I would never give away something Arun Uncle gifted me!

Mother: Listen! Either you have it somewhere, or you have given it away. So, which one is it?

(Anya looks very sad. She pulls out the red jacket from under her mattress and brings it to her mother.)

Mother (looking at the hole and feeling it with her fingers): Hmm…so that’s what happened!

Scene 5: Narrator, Anya, Mother, Palak, Shreya, Raghav

Narrator: Anya had expected to be scolded about the dreadful hole, maybe even punished in some way, but to her surprise, nothing of that sort happened. A couple of days later…

Mother: Anya, come here dear.

(Anya comes in, looking sheepish.)

Mother: Here. Here’s your jacket. Put it on.

Narrator: Why is her mother asking her to wear the jacket with a hole? Oh! Where is the hole? Where there was a hole earlier is now an attractive red and yellow flower. The red jacket looks even prettier than before. 

Anya (hugging her mother): Wow! The flower is so pretty! No one can tell there was a hole here. The jacket looks as good as new! Thank you mummy. Thank you, thank you!

(Anya puts on her jacket.)

Narrator: Now, some of you may think this story is about how bad lying to your parents is. But actually, it is about so much more. What do you say kids?

Palak: Sometimes grown-ups have solutions that we children can’t think of.

Shreya: Sometimes, by lying, we lose all the help we could have got just because we were too afraid to tell the truth.

Raghav: And sometimes, it’s okay to have some holes in your clothes!