When she makes rotis, 11-year-old Meenaxi is actually rolling out maps. Maps of India, Africa, the expansionist idea of Russia – pages from her seventh-grade atlas. Shy, her voice barely a whisper, Meenaxi says, “Maps hi bante hain, gol toh kabhi, kabhi…” 

Forget getting the roti’s customary shape right, her tiny hands are not supposed to be doing anything even close, but watch them launch the javelin every afternoon on that dusty, uneven patch of land Bangaon village calls “academy”. 

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