Ring! The bell rang. Krishna sighed as he got up from his desk. “Maybe just a little longer,” he thought as he went over to offer to help Suman arrange the cubbyholes.
“Nope. Sorry, Krishna, but I finished it off during lunch break today. I didn’t want to miss the bus again,” Suman chuckled. She threw her bag over her shoulder, winced at the impact and strode off.
“Let’s face it,” he thought as he tugged at his bag. It wouldn’t budge. “Come on!” He tugged harder. Then he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. “Oh no!” Pull. Footsteps. Pull. Closer. The door creaked open. Krishna focused on the ground.
“Krishna?” a voice said. “What are you doing here?”
Krishna gulped. “Well…” he stuttered.
Then the voice did something strange. It began to… chuckle?
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. You can’t even pick up your bag! Wait till I tell Sohan about this!”
Krishna’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Don’t you dare to…” he began.
“Oh, I will dare to. And what is Mr. Can’t-Pick-Up-His-Bag going to do about it? Tug me to death?” he cackled and jogged away.
Krishna, his ears burning, gave one last tug at his bag. This time, it came free. “I’ve got a good mind to whack those good-for-nothing twins, Mohan and Sohan, over their heads,” he spat out, bitterly uttering their names. Still muttering and swearing under his breath, Krishna made his way through the hallways. “Just you wait!” were his last mutterings.
Two hours later, he sat exhausted at home. He glimpsed his dad heading out the door. “Dad!” he called. “Dad, wait!”
“What is it?” his dad asked, sounding exasperated, as though Krishna had been nagging him for ages.
“Dad, listen. I can’t carry the bag home anymore.”
“Come on, we’ve been through this. Plan better, pack better. Don’t jeopardise my time. Let’s talk about something important.”
“But this is important. The new programme…”
“Listen. If all you can talk about is this nonsense, then don’t talk at all. I have to go now,” Krishna’s dad said as he got up to leave. “I have a few things I need to plan.”
“But…” Krishna began.
“No buts,” his dad said sternly.
Krishna sighed. “He never listens. There are always ‘more important’ things.” He got up and went to his room. There, at his writing desk, he wrote one of the most inspired pieces he had ever written.
My name is Krishna. I live on 54 Down Street with my parents. I have almost everything I could wish for. Almost. Let me start from the beginning.
In school, admissions have been low lately, and scores even lower. In an effort to push the tempo, the Principal introduced a new programme which helped students study and included books. Lots of books. That’s what makes our bags so heavy nowadays. Kids like me, who haven’t got the best of muscles, find it hard to lug these bags. I tried to tell my parents, but they didn’t listen. They never listen.
Author: Kavyanadhi S, 11 years old
Note: This piece was penned by the child as a part of the What Do Kids Really Want initiative held on 14th November 2026 and was chosen by the jury as the Runner-Up entry.