The village I grew up in, Chennalode in Wayanad, was small but beautiful. It would plunge into darkness every evening, since we were not on the grid, and candles and kerosene lamps would flicker to life, like fireflies. We had just one primary school, and the secondary school was a three-kilometre walk and a village away. Roads were bad, so most kids would drop out after seventh standard.
Secret Diary 2019
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