Priya and the Garden Monster

The school bell rang, but more than a school bell, it was an alarm for chaos.

- Abhinav Kumar

A hundred kids exploded into the playground, roaring and laughing.

And then there was Priya.

She sat under the shade of the big banyan tree, her sketchbook open. She wasn't drawing the chaos. She was drawing a tiny, six-legged weightlifter, an ant, dragging a crumb ten times its size. Suddenly, her best friend, Samir, skidded to a stop in front of her, forming a dust cloud.

"Priya! It's an emergency, and you're drawing bugs?" he panted. "Come on, we need you as a keeper!"

"He's not a bug-he's a champion," Priya murmured, adding a heroic glint to the ant's eye.

WHUMP! A fluffy tennis ball landed with a soft bounce and rolled till the edge of a bed of perfect, beautiful yellow marigolds. A sudden silence fell over the playground. From a small shed at the edge of the field emerged Mr Ramesh. Mr Ramesh had a face full of grumpy wrinkles and a magnificent, drooping moustache that looked like a grumpy, thick, black, furry caterpillar had fallen asleep on his lip.

"OYE!" His voice had power, and it sounded like thunder.

The kids froze, almost turning into statues. Mr Ramesh walked over, picked up the ball between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a smelly sock, and stared at the silent crowd.

"The garden," he growled, his moustache twitching with every word, "is for growing. The field is for playing."

He turned and went back to his shed, leaving the kids in silence behind him.

"See?" Samir whispered.

"Total Garden Monster." But Priya didn't see a monster; she saw a mystery.