For young readers: Dhara runs the first elections at her school. Will things go according to plan?

On Monday morning, Dhara felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Who’s ready to do something re-vuh-looshinary?” asked Chandra Ma’am. Dhara swallowed hard and raised her hand amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the rest of the class. “Dhara, yes! Did you work on your idea?” Chandra Ma’am inquired.

“Yes, ma’am!” Dhara exclaimed.

“Since the others don’t know anything, let’s start with the usual question. Tell the class what makes you angry!” Chandra Ma’am said.

Dhara turned to face her classmates. “The fact that we can’t make decisions about things that concern us makes me angry.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Chandra Ma’am asked, her eyes sparkling behind her spectacles.

Carol promptly stood up. “Vote for a representative!”

Dhara scowled. It was her idea, not Carol’s!

“Mm!” Chandra Ma’am looked impressed. “Tell me more. Why can’t the prefects be your representatives?”

“We didn’t choose them! So how do we know if they want the same things we want?” asked Dhara. “Besides, they will be leaving the school next year, so why would they care about the future of the school? They won’t be affected by what happens to the old hall! We should have the right to decide.”

“But as you said, we have different ideas,” said Carol. “And so –”

“So,” interrupted Dhara, “we thought – what if we could vote for a representative from Class 4? We have six more years in this school. The school matters to us!”

“Now you’re talking,” said Chandra Ma’am, smiling. “That’s a proper, new, revolutionary idea.”

Dhara beamed.

“Why would high-school children vote for a fourth-grader?” Vineet interrupted.

As soon as one of them spoke, everyone had something to say. “Some of us don’t care either! Let them make a hall!”

“Voting sounds like fun, I think!”

“Can anyone stand for election?”

“Then who would actually vote?”

As usual, their voices grew louder, with everyone talking over each other. Chandra Ma’am raised her hand, calling for silence. “Did you know that when I was a child, we used to have elections in my school?”

“Really?” Dhara asked, intrigued.

“Mm-hmm! All the time. For class monitors, prefects, everything.”

“Then?” asked Dhara. ‘Why don’t we have them here?’

“It requires a lot of effort,” Chandra Ma’am explained. “Handling candidate applications, ensuring rules are followed, counting votes, preventing any cheating . . .”

“Oh! Then . . .” Carol’s voice trailed off.

“Then I will support you,” said Chandra Ma’am. “Because this tiny idea could, eventually, make a huge –” The bell rang, cutting her off. “Hmm. A huge difference. But we’re running out of time. During lunch break today, meet me outside Pheroza Ma’am’s office, okay?” She nodded sharply and left the room.

Dhara’s face lit up. “Yes!”

Carol stepped forward to give Dhara a quick hug, but Dhara took a step back. “No, no, no! We’re rivals now, don’t forget.”

Carol frowned. “Oh.”

Dhara and Carol shook hands instead. Dhara then sat down, fidgeting with anticipation as she counted down the hours until lunch break. As soon as the bell rang, the girls sprang from their seats and hurried to the principal’s office, where Chandra Ma’am awaited them with a smile. ‘I’ve already briefed the principal on your idea, but now it’s up to you to convince her.’ Dhara held her head high. She would do it. They knocked on the door and entered the principal’s cabin.

Pheroza Ma’am looked up and smiled. “Yes, girls, go ahead and tell me.”

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” Carol began.

“We want to hold an election, Ma’am,” Dhara blurted out. “To choose a representative from Class 4 to tell you . . .” She held out her wornout circular. “We’re the future citizens. That’s what the school tells us. And many of us don’t want a new hall.”

“We understand we can’t all come and speak to you whenever we want, but if we had a student representative, we could . . . um . . .” Carol glanced at Dhara, seeking assistance.

“We could tell you what the school wants, or at least what the majority wants.”

“A representative from Class 4,” said Pheroza Ma’am. “Isn’t that a little . . .”

“It’s a revolutionary idea!” Dhara insisted.

“Something new that we have never tried before!” She glanced at Chandra Ma’am and continued, “I think it’s something that no one has ever tried before. Ma’am, we’ll be at Sarvaloka for another six years! This is our first year in secondary school, and . . . and . . . and it was our idea,” she finished a little uncertainly.

Pheroza Ma’am smiled. “You’re right about that. But what will I say to the school management when they ask me why we aren’t building a new state-of-the-art hall?”

“They know we already have a hall!” said Dhara. “Wouldn’t it be cheaper and easier to just make that art of the – um – modern?”

Pheroza Ma’am’s eyes twinkled. “Indeed, it would.”

“We often talk about the need for younger representatives in our government as well,” Chandra Ma’am said gently.

Pheroza Ma’am chuckled and finally nodded. “All right, girls, I grant you permission to hold an election. Now you need to get to work and convince me that it’s worth the effort and hassle!”

“Yess!”

Excerpted with permission from Dhara’s Revolution, Varsha Seshan, illustrated by Tanvi Bhat, Puffin.