I sprinted up and down the pitch, scratches littered on my arms and legs. If it were up to me, I would have lived on that soccer pitch but when I heard the words every 8 year old boy fears the most-”TARAN JITENDRA PANJABI!”, I knew it was time to head home. At my desk, the fever of the football field found expression in a tattered Mathematics textbook. Math class had always been a comforting experience. Our teacher would assign...