Anu started her Santro after three days. Vicky looked too happy to be going on a car ride finally. It sputtered and coughed a little but then started, as it always did. As she eased it out of the driveway, there were curious glances cast at her. She was driving a cheap relic. Most houses had their Audis, Benzes, and BMWs parked nonchalantly outside. The car of the least denomination in that community was an Innova. Anu couldn’t wait to get out of the complex and get on a public road where a Santro was normal and a Jaguar was not.

The school visit failed spectacularly for both Anu and Vicky. The facilitator, who showed the school around and informally interviewed Vicky, said smoothly at the end. ‘He is a bright child but looks like he has been through traditional schooling. Here we emphasize on overall personality development.’

Anu was tempted to ask what aspect of four-year-old Vicky’s personality wasn’t round enough for her. Instead, she smiled and said, ‘That is wonderful. Personality is everything.’

Then the proud-as-a-peacock facilitator handed Anu the fee chart. The first few rows sounded unbelievably unreasonable. Academic fees—60,000, sports—5,000, Computer lab (Really? For pre-schoolers?)—5,000.

After a lot of these five to eight thousand rupee rows, the sheet continued onto the next page. Building fees—50,000. Fast-track Kids—1,00,000 (What was this anyway?) Scholarship fund—1,00,000.

They were the big ones. As Anu glanced at the total, hidden way at the bottom, the fee per annum came to six lakhs!

‘That is too steep for LKG!’ Anu’s voice sounded a bit too whiney to her own ears. Why couldn’t she say the same thing with more verve? Like she did in Vijaynagar? Were these posh-looking coordinators and facilitators making her nervous?

‘We don’t call it LKG here like in traditional schools. We call it Development Level 2. DL 2.’ The woman corrected Anu. ‘Also, you can pay it in three instalments!’ The woman said brightly. Oh, that is fantastic but the total still remains the same—Anu didn’t say any of those things. What was the point when she knew she was not going to put Vicky there? The usually bouncy Vicky had sat quietly in a corner. As if the whole scenario had overwhelmed him too.

The woman now turned to Vicky and cooed. ‘Vivith, do you like this school?’

‘Vivikth,’ Vicky corrected her. He had an unusually sharp hearing when it came to mispronunciations of his name. ‘I don’t like this school. You are not my friend.’ He stated matter of factly and lurched at Anu.

Anu controlled her laughter but did not apologize for Vicky. Why demean his firmly stated opinion? Politely murmuring a thank you, she started towards the exit. Then she stopped, remembering something. ‘What is Fast-track Kids?’ She couldn’t leave without knowing what it was!