For children: Will Kuhu find a way to reconnect with her mother and overcome her struggles?

As grey clouds swooped down on the hills and the sun disappeared, winter clothes made a comeback. By December, butterflies and crickets had gone into hiding and flowers prepared to say goodbye. Only the pines stood tall to brave the wintry air. Papa brought home cans of kerosene and stocked wood behind the blue curtain in the balcony that covered the home junk – broken furniture, old pipes, taps, a plastic drum, and pretty much everything that Ma thought belonged to the junkyard but Papa reasoned could prove useful, one day!

A week later, Kuhu walked up the Wood Bazar with a silver medal around her neck and a bag bouncing against her back. It was “report card day”.

In the morning, Sister Rosa had stepped onto the stage to honour the students.

When Kuhu's name was called out for a prize, she looked around in surprise. What was it for?

“Hundred Per cent Attendance!” Miss Susan announced.

Hundred per cent attendance! Is that why Ma had the no-leave policy for me? Kuhu wondered.

Sister Rosa put a silver medal around Kuhu’s neck, then drew her closer and wrapped an arm around her. She turned to the hall, brimming with girls. “At St Mary’s, we cherish values like discipline; it’s the school motto, too! Regular attendance is not just about coming to school daily. It also means that this young child, Kuhu Joshi, understands the importance of discipline. Let’s give her a big round of applause.”

And the hall burst into loud claps. Kuhu’s cheeks flushed as she walked back to her seat. She also received certificates for Good Manners, playing Dwarf Dopey, and for Neat Handwriting. There were additional prizes too – for English, Hindi, general science, music, geography. They went to the other girls. Jaya won a medal for mathematics.

Kuhu proudly wore the shiny silver medal all the way home. Inside her bag, she also carried a report card with many Bs, few Cs and fewer As. And, a packet of sweets that Miss Susan had distributed before they said their goodbyes for the winter vacation. The three-month-long winter holidays in Himalpur schools came with no homework or tests. Exactly the way a serious vacation should be – only fun.

But for Kuhu, things would be quite different. She’d be swamped because the baby could arrive anytime!

As Kuhu raced down the slope towards her house, a white cotton ball swirled before her eyes. More of them followed, tiptoeing on the road. She slowed down as snowflakes flurried around her, melting into drops upon touching the ground. People milled about under umbrellas and raincoats. Early December was no time for snowfall, but as Ammaji always said, better early than never. What if there’s no snow one day?

Kuhu rang the bell, hammering it until Ammaji opened the door, muttering, “What makes you so…”

Kuhu pushed her aside and ran into Ma’s room. It was empty, except for a rumpled bed with a mountain of clothes on it and a cold, unfinished cup of tea on the nightstand. Kuhu turned and ran like a whirlwind to the kitchen, then the store, the balcony, yelling for Ma. Their tiny house didn’t have many hiding spots.

Exhausted, she went to her room, where Ammaji was waiting – arms crossed and a naughty smile playing on her lips. “Finally, my girl has time for me,” she said, taking the bag off Kuhu’s shoulders. “And, what do we have here? A prize!”

“A medal, Ammaji. For hundred per cent attendance. Where’s Ma?”

“How lovely that is!” Ammaji removed the medal from Kuhu’s neck and held it up to get a clear view.

Kuhu grabbed it from her hand. “I want to show it to Ma. Where is she? And there’s also a report card in my bag…” She gave her grandmother a long look. “It’s full of difficult words that only Ma can understand.”

Ammaji chuckled. “Hmm, I see. But your mother is not home to read the difficult words.” She pulled out a towel, turned on the heater and sat down to dry Kuhu’s hair, wet from the snow. “Not home!” Kuhu was disappointed. “Well, when she’s back then.”

Ammaji drew her face close to Kuhu’s and whispered, “She’s gone to the hospital to get the baby.”

Kuhu’s tiny mouth formed a perfect O and her eyes widened. Something had happened here in her absence!

Excerpted with permission from Kuhu Learns to Deal With Life, Sonia Dogra, illustrated by Anisha Kotibhaskar and Bazma Ahmad, Bare Bones Publishing.