There was a character on your wall.
On your lunchbox. On your bedsheet.
Everywhere you looked.
On the hard days, the days too big to explain to anyone,
you went back to them.
And wished, more than anything,
that they could hear you.
Because you were never real to them.
Not one character. Ever. Knew a child.
India has never given the world
its defining children's character.
You wanted this when you were young.
You never got it.
Your child doesn't have to wait.