The Boy With The Basket (a short story)
Forty ninth-graders from thirteen different countries sat in a dirty, crowded, touristy part of Rishikesh, surrounded by religion and commerce and retail spirituality. Stalls selling hot Maggi and bread omelettes, Uncle chips packets and Maaza. Stuffed toy zebras and battery operated hand fans. Calendars with gods and goddesses. And all with Mr.Jason and Ms.Sangita trying to make us feel like this was important or meaningful and enriching for a bunch of fourteen year olds. So so many people. Chanting and praying and singing. And everyone who wasn’t wrapped up in religious fervour seemed to be devotedly trying to sell us something. Tea. Snacks. Guides. Souvenirs. Salespeople of all shapes and sizes and ages selling materialism to make the spirituality more interesting. Bored with the banality of it all, Mansher picked up a pebble and threw it across the surface of the water. It skipped across the surface… once, twice… before sinking below the surface. Then Ranjeev did the sa...
