What I loved the most was your bravery and courage to be true to yourself and the words throughout the book. Young girls like us need you because we need to stop victimizing ourselves. See ourselves beyond the cage of self-pity and destruction.

“Don’t be shy. Have some food, water and enjoy,” said one of them. It has been a year. I never knew anyone’s name except a few. The people in the pandal knew me but not my name. I am referred to as the “Baccha Meye (little girl)” who is always offered food packets and checked upon every time I leave for the office in the morning and return home in the evening. 

“Don’t light the diyas here. We have to take care of the safety inside the pandal,” remarked Joy Uncle while attending to people and asking them whether they had the prasad or not. Half of his kurta is drenched in sweat. I stand inside the pandal, asking Thakurmoshai to give me something that I can keep for a lifetime, just like my saree.

“Thakurmoshai, only 4 minutes are left. Read the Shaktirupena mantra and do three pushpanjali at once and get over with the puja,” instructed Joy Uncle. He has not been able to sleep for the past seven days. The Bengali community in the area is calling him for the details of the Durga Puja at 3 am. The arrangements of the puja essentials are something that is not allowing him to sleep properly.

I was walking down the street wearing a black hoodie made of fur with my hands inside the pocket. I don’t know why I walked the same path...