Hi. I’m Sakhi. I’m eight years old. Some days, my thoughts feel like butterflies — too fast, too many. 

I try to say things, but sometimes grown-ups are too busy. Sometimes, I don’t know the right words. One evening, Aaji told me a story. In Marathi. I didn’t understand all the words, but I liked how they sounded — like songs hiding in the sentences. She smiled and said,

“Shabda naach karat hote ga, Sakhi. Tu aiklaas ka?”

That night, I wrote my first story — about a mango who didn’t want to fall from the tree. 

I don’t know if it was perfect. But it felt like me. Like my words had finally danced too. 🙂