Thirty years ago, this year, I passed from OLPS, Our Lady of Perpetual Succour (yes, I know every joke that follows) High School in Chembur — the same school as Anil Kapoor and Shankar Mahadevan. And, as I always tell people, it was here — not at home — that I have my earliest memories of Ramayana.

I remember collecting pigeon feathers to help my teacher prepare the wings of Jatayu. I remember watching Lakshmana struggle to mark three visible lines on the well polished grey stone floor using precious white chalk, otherwise used by teachers on the blackboard. I remember laughing as Ravana picked up Sita, and hooting with others, since Sita was a boy dressed as a girl.