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“My son is very un-athletic. He is ten.


I have tried to interest him in sports, with little success. It is painful to see his disinterest. It's too late for him to get on any team. I worry what high school on will be for him. He is sweet, innocent, super cautious and not aggressive.”

This is my father’s letter seeking advice from a counsellor a few years ago.

Matters are not very different today when I am thirteen. He still is just as flustered.

My mom, to the contrary, supports my disinclination to sports.

She does not differ from other moms. She thinks I am gifted and intelligent.

"Why do you misguide him instead of moulding him into the image expected of boys?” people ask her.

I think, read, question, debate, sketch, paint, sing, act, birdwatch and display an interest in forensics and computer technology.

I can hold forth on statistics, algebra, co-ordinate geometry, force and laws of motion, the respiratory system, socialism in Europe, tissues, and on G K Chesterton and Prem Chand Munshi.

But the one and only one question I am asked is: “Do you play basketball?”


At fourteen, when I could grow to change the world, I have to answer to why I don’t want to play basketball or follow scores in cricket.

I have a choice to dance my way through my existence. I have taken it.

I have put your desires on the side and opened the doors I want.

Am I being selfish? No. Just realistic. And plain passionate.

Life is not a competition.

So puhlease stop with your “I-know-you-can-do-it” or “Get-in-there-and-make it-happen” cheerleading.

I am way past it.

Sorry my dreams don't flow into the funnel you have set up for boys.

And guess what?? I am okay. And so should you be.


Flash fiction

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