Yog works endless hours under the hot sun in our little home garden with his Dad. He shovels, digs, moves rocks, pulls weeds/roots, prunes trees and works with all kinds of pests with ease. His legs and arms are strained, knees are black and fingers are scraped. Overall, he is a happy boy. We sit down on our dining table under the fan with a glass of icy lemonade by our side. Yog opens his brand new Math text book and immediately ends up getting a paper tear from the sharp edges of the new book. His eyes well up with tears, voice gets choked and he mutters under his…