Anchita’s social studies teacher had asked her students to prepare and speak on something of importance to them. They could even bring objects and show them to the other students, as part of the presentation. Some of the students were really excited about it.

Today was Anchita’s turn, and she was smiling softly to herself from the morning. People who knew her well would have recognised the warning signs, but she was new in this school, so nobody noticed.

Her turn came, and she stepped up to the teacher’s desk with a folder of papers. Anchita’s smile widened.

‘Today I am going to talk about my neighbours. They are an … interesting people. I have got some drawings which I made, to show you.’

‘That is very good, Anchita. We would all like to see your drawings,’ said the teacher, who was also smiling, although it was not Anchita’s kind of smile.

‘But first,’ said Anchita, opening her folder and taking out two sketches, ‘I would like to show you something else. Here is an aircraft.’

The students craned their necks to look at the two-seater propeller driven aircraft Anchita had drawn. It was a very good sketch. She hadn’t wanted to draw a big passenger aircraft. A small one would do.

‘And here is a rocket with a spacecraft on top. Isn’t it interesting? This one takes astronauts to the International Space Station. How many of you want to be astronauts? I know you do.’

There are always astronauts in every class. Five or six hands went up and stayed there for some time.

‘And how many of you want to be pilots?’

A lone hand went up. Anchita was surprised. The owner of the hand was a bit poor in mathematics. But enthusiasm was what counted, she supposed.

‘Great. As you know, aircraft and rockets and cars and such things are made of aluminium and other metal. Aluminium in nature is found as an ore, called bauxite. It has to be mined, and refined, and mixed with other metals to make aircraft and rockets and spacecraft and other cool things,’ said Anchita. Her smile was beginning to hurt her jaws, but she continued. She had to do this properly.

‘Now, a little about my neighbours. I live on the other side of the Tel, near a village called Deogan. Here it is,’ she said, showing a neat sketch of the hill towering over the village. She had even got the trees right, and their leaves, and was very proud of the sketch. She had spent a lot of time trying to get the leaves right.

‘And this is my friend, working on his garden. He lives in the village. He can grow anything he wants to. You should see the flowers and plants he has grown.’

The class obediently looked at the sketch of Korok working away among his flower beds.