HuffPost. Nov 2024.

I clearly remember that morning. I was only 4 years old. For some reason, the nursery class was let out early. I ran through the front door of my home, into my grandma’s bedroom, which is the first thing I always did when I returned from school. But instead of seeing her bright, cheery face eager to see me, she was in tears. She was watching the news on our 21-inch black-and-white television and unable to console herself. As a child, I was confused about what was happening, but just sad to see her this way. “The prime minister of India, Mrs. Indira Gandhi was assassinated,” she told me.

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