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(...) Apart from the creaking sound of the man’s shoes and occasional soft whispers, little else could be heard. A moment later I remembered that I was supposed to be working, not looking around. I looked again at the stern old man and swiftly raised my hand in the air. He quickened his pace and headed in my direction. As he drew near, he scowled and threw me an irritated look.
“Here, take it. How many do you require?” His voice was harsh, and sharp like cold knives.
I ignored his question. I had better things to do than listen to his impatient remarks. When he failed to irritate me into retorting, he continued pacing the floor as though disappointed at missing a chance to shout at someone’s impertinence. A cruel smile rested on his face, as he resumed subjecting all our activities to his suspicious examination. He stopped in front of a mousy boy, who was shaking with fear. For a few moments he looked at the boy as an entomologist would at a previously undiscovered bug on a pile of dung.
(...)
VASUDHA PANDE was born in New Delhi, India in 1989. At the age of 11, she moved with her family to Mumbai, where she completed her tenth grade and developed a tolerable hatred for the educational system. Pande is an amateur theoretical physicist. Her free time is devoted to writing short stories and the pursuit of unexplained physical phenomena.
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