I ran all the way home from the playground without stopping. The older boys had beaten me up a little worse than they usually did but I still managed to muster enough strength to run as far as I could from them.

I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting into a fight which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me.

We were the poorest on the block, my mother was a sex worker and I had no idea who my biological father is. This is a massive taboo in my society. The kids would call me "Stinky the Pooh", "Smellind" (my name is Milind), "the bathless wonder", "the Ren and Stinky show", these are the slightly better names.

I kept looking over my shoulder to see if I was being followed. The coast was clear. I saw the boys huddled up together as if they were plotting my next round of torture. I shuddered partly out of the fear of facing my mother's wrath and...