“Ma’am, you cannot close the door while teaching in the classroom,” our coordinator instructed and left for her next class. “What if the teacher plays with the students in the classroom?” my rebel mind chuckled.

“So Class VII, today we are going to play a game. There will be two teams. I will ask you to enact the names of the poems, stories or any character from the stories that you have read in your Bengali class.” My students, as usual, got excited. They were able to answer all the names correctly. “Ma’am, they’re so easy. Please ask us more challenging questions, “ they requested. “Okay, so what kind of game do you suggest?” I asked.
“We want to play dumb charades,” the whole class replied enthusiastically.

Two of my students closed the door and the game began. It continued till they heard a knock on the door. The students got nervous. They felt that they would have to pretend to study in front of the coordinator. The monitor opened the door and saw their English teacher. It was time for their English period. She smiled at me and I smiled back. It was my last class with VIIB before their annual exam and I was satisfied to see their joyful faces.

Sometimes all we need is a break from monotony. That day, my decision to allow them to close the door acted as a key to their newfound freedom. It’s not always bad to break the rules, considering the mental health of every student is a priority. (What is the most rebellious thing you have done... November 24)

Sohini Raychaudhuri

Sometimes, rebellion and liberation come at the cost of deep personal pain. This is particularly true when we decide to stand up against our own family, as many Indian millennials often must. I grew up in a family with an oppressively self-righteous father, thanks to whom I have had a damaging childhood and compromised educational opportunities, much before I was even old enough to realise it. My rebellion against his authority was not a one-off act of courage, but a quotidian struggle that went on for years, wherein I pitted my wits and words against the misogyny, homophobia, casteism and regressiveness that he embodies. Later, I and other members of the family discovered many uglier aspects of his character and his past, which were much more obviously reprehensible and therefore easier to rebel against.

The fact that he is a well-known (albeit, increasingly inept) poet has made it quite difficult for us to speak up against him. Those early years of my solitary struggle and the subsequent evidence of my father’s hypocrisy have taught me that some monsters try to hide behind their creative talents and expect to get away with anything using the whitewashed public image they work very hard to build.

Dhee Sankar

In 1999, I was working at a government job and was doing well. Life was just about looking up when I met this Sardar doctor. He liked reading and was an introvert. I thought he had two traits which are similar to mine, so why not? We got hitched that year. We were from different backgrounds. As different as it could be. I was a Bengali Kayastha and he was a Sikh, complete with long hair and turban. However, after my wedding, I realised there were more things in common between us than we would care to enumerate. Our food habits were similar. Both families were very casual about religious rituals. We abhorred fasting, and so did they. Twenty-five years and two lovely daughters later, we are still going strong. We do fight but we make up rapidly. The best part is, we complement each other.
So that is the most rebellious thing I have done.

Pampa Paul

I was probably in class V or VI when I did the most rebellious thing. One day in school, one of my friends informed me that all the players of my favourite domestic football club were coming to inaugurate a sports goods shop near the school the next day. After returning home, I told my mom that I would not go to school the next day but would go to see the players in the afternoon. But she forbade me very strictly. That refusal probably turned me into a rebel. My friend and I slipped out of our school compound through the rear gate during the tiffin period which is rarely used and remains unguarded. This had two unfortunate consequences. First, on reaching the shop, we found out that no players were coming to inaugurate the shop and the news was a rumour. Second, my dad somehow got the information that I went to see footballers by bunking classes and naturally, I received a thrashing from my angry dad at home.

Sourish Misra