The teacher called Hunger
“Auntie, where did you learn swimming?” Standing at the shallow end of the swimming pool, I was vigorously shaking my head to get rid of the water in my ears when this girl, around 10, approached me. “Sorry? You said something?” “Yes auntie. Where did you learn swimming?” “Umm…in a swimming pool in Dwarka.” “How long did you take to learn all the strokes you do. Especially butterfly?” “I took long. Almost two full seasons. Breathing and butterfly took the longest.” “So they taught you all the strokes there?” Asked the mother of this girl, inching closer, who was hitherto standing a few feet away. Her curiosity was piqued by now. On her shoulder clung her younger daughter. I had an audience of three. “My girls admire you. The way you swim non-stop. And also your butterfly and diving. So we wanted to find out about your trainer,” the mum added. “Beta, introduce yourself,” she chided her older daughter who looked at me with zero interest in personal introduc