Her Nana had gifted her a bright yellow sweater. “Made of the finest fur you get in Darjeeling”. She had that on this morning, what with the day being special and all that. Though she was all of four and a half years, she “got ready on my own”. It was another story that her escapades with the comb and the powder would have Mumma in fits.
Today was the big day. Papa would drive them down to the big red building, which Mumma called school. The two of them had spent last month going through alphabets and numbers. She could say her A, B, C until Z and boy, was she proud! Papa had also taught her some numbers so she knew two apples and three bananas made for five fruits. Like Nani was fond of saying, she was a sona mey (golden girl, in Bengali).