I'd like to talk about my very first day at primary school, back when I was about five years old. The school was a small, two-storey building at the end of our road in Pune, painted a rather cheerful yellow, with an enormous mango tree in the middle of the playground.
What I remember most clearly is the morning itself. My mother had ironed my uniform the night before, and I was carrying a water bottle that seemed almost as big as my arm. When we reached the gate, I clung to her hand and refused to let go, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I cried quite loudly. My class teacher, a calm, soft-spoken woman, knelt down, asked me my name and handed me a box of crayons. That small gesture somehow did the trick. I spent the rest of the morning drawing, singing nursery rhymes and sharing my snack with the boy sitting next to me, who, funnily enough, is still one of my closest friends.
As for how I felt, it was a real mix of emotions. At first I was absolutely terrified, because it was the first time I'd been away from my family for a whole day. But by the time my mother came to collect me, I was so excited that I talked non-stop all the way home. Looking back, I think that day taught me something I still believe now: new situations are usually far less frightening once you've actually taken the first step.