Aranya and her father. She was eleven
years old all over again, surrounded by
kids who laughed at private jokes about
her, and jibed her needlessly. It was as if
she had walked into a time machine.
Another four years in the labyrinth of
soul-sucking sadness, of judging
students, of her maligned self. Her life
was in a fucking loop.
What did she expect? It was her fault
She had come to this college to study,
maximize her scores, get her projects
done on time, get a high-paying job and
spend the rest of her life being a lonely
overachiever. Why did she make the