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 breath with frustration, “I hate books! They always give me cuts! I do not want to study this book anymore!”