6:30 am, Ommallur, 25th November

Trees sway and dance to the first ray of sun soaking the dirt of the night in hope this sleepy town immersed in the hallelujah chorus for various gods stands on its feet, birds chirp joyous songs and float in the thin air, untouched and immaculate. Mother's prayers reach the skies and hit my ears, it's been an alarm clock since I was ten. My mind wanders to the time when we woke to the sounds of the radio, when the weight of the school bag bent our shoulders. With the arrival of youth, the burden of that memory sometimes puts a smile on my face when we wanted to grow up we should have known school bags and skirts were life's precious gifts that could never be as good as a pricey designer handbag.