My English Teacher, Monga Sir

My English teacher, Monga Sir, once described books as portals to another dimension. I remembered his words. Their meaning came much later.

Monga sir is no longer with us. Yet, as I read my own manuscript, I hear him again.

I turn a page. And I am there again. Not reading about her childhood— returning to it.

Her first word. Her first uncertain steps. A dog on our temple walk. A tumble from a chair. Little moments. An entire world.

You were right, Monga Sir. Some books take us elsewhere. Mine takes me back to moments I thought I could only remember.

Soon, I'll hold the first printed copy. My hope? That somewhere in our story, you find your own.

A note from Arjun

Some lessons take years to find their meaning.

In school, Monga sir used to tell us that books were portals to another dimension. I remembered the words, even when I didn’t quite understand them.

Years later, reading my own manuscript, I finally do.

I turn a page and Kiki is taking her first steps again. Another, and we’re on our walk to the temple, stopping because a dog has caught her attention.

I remember what she did. But I also remember what it felt like to be her father in that exact moment—the laughter, the worry, the wonder.

Monga sir is no longer with us. I wish I could tell him that his words stayed, and that one day, I found my way back through a book of my own.

As I wait to hold the first printed copy, I hope these pages do something similar for you. That a little moment from our home brings back a little moment from yours. ❤️