As I watched the Write India video the other day, I teared up and realized I wanted to tell the stories of my stories, the lessons I learned, and express my gratitude for the Write India program.
“These wounds look self-inflicted,” said the nurse pointing to the bandage on Divya’s left wrist.
“Is it about a boyfriend, dear?”
“A half-boyfriend then? I hear the girls have those now.”
Divya hated this line of questioning. Why did it always have to be about a boy?
You’re standing in the middle of the quad and looking around at all the rich, smart kids and thinking:
“How did I get here? Why did they pick me? I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve this.”
But, you’re wrong. So very wrong.