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Cyber racket: Three held, mastermind in Cambodia,says cops.

Read my exciting story of cyber scam, human trafficking and

A daring rescue in Sihanoukville, Camobdia, coming on

Substack in first week of September.

Photo below is of a dead trafficked victim outside Sihanoukville

A Boy’s Struggle to Prove his Bravery

Percy was short and chubby for his age. Ladies always pinched his cheeks and he hated it! He preferred the comfort of comics to playing games. In school, Percy’s mates called him a sissy and he felt like an outcast. He wondered if he’d ever grow a beard and attract girls.

When he complained to his mother, she said, “its part of growing up”. His father said, “You must stand up to bullies bravely”. He could sense his father’s disappointment at his lack of courage. Percy knew that he wasn’t very brave, and he longed to be like the heroes in his comics. What wouldn’t he give to be like Blackbeard the pirate chief or Superboy, the boy of steel?

On his tenth birthday, his older cousin presented him with a pocketknife. Fearing confiscation, he hid it from his mother. Later, when school recess was almost over, the same cousin came to stay for a week. Percy opened up to his cousin about his fears and dreams.

The cousin did not tease him. Instead, he told Percy exciting stories of schoolboy heroes and boy detectives. The stories enthralled him. The perceptive cousin sensed what Percy needed, and the day before he left, had some words of advice for him.

A Magical Journey through Indian Geography, Folklore, and Student Life

Today is Sister Amelia’s dreaded geography test! Ordinarily, I would be petrified with fear, for I could never remember the population and chief products of each Indian state. However, today is different, for today, I would get magic ink for my pen, and the ink will help me write the correct answers!

We used ink-filled fountain pens, as ballpoints had not been invented then. I was particularly proud of my new Japanese Pilot pen. The real reason for my confidence however, was not my new pen but the ink in it, magic ink. You see, Dinu our driver had promised to fill my pen with it. “The ink is only found in my village high up in the Halflong hills”, he told me in a confidential whisper.

For the past year, Dinu Girisa had been driving me up to my school in town and back. The car had seen better days and needed fixing often. Whenever that happened, Dinu regaled me with amazing stories.

His tales were colorful, much like the landscape we drove through each day, with green hills and golden paddy fields along a mighty river. One day, as we waited for a puncture to be fixed, Dinu asked, “Do you know why the Mughals never conquered Assam?”

“Yes”, I replied, “the Ahom kings defeated the Mughals in battle. It’s in my history book”.

“Ah! But how did a small Ahom army defeat the massive Mughal hoard?” asked Dinu.

“I don’t know. How did they?” I asked.

“By mighty magic”, replied Dinu mysteriously. “There was this great magician of my tribe called Mayoung. His magic made an entire Mughal army disappear. After that the Mughals wisely stayed away.” I was only half-convinced, but the thought made my imagination soar. What if I could make Sister Amelia disappear, by magic?

Only a day before the geography test, I had a bad day. I had tried to impress some classmates with my new Pilot pen. However, I was faced with a barrage of expensive Parker, Sheffer’s, and Waterman pens, so I beat a hasty retreat.

On the way home, seeing my glum face Dinu asked, "What's the matter?” I told him. He wanted to see my pen. To my delight, he was visibly impressed. After a short pause, he said thoughtfully, "You know what you need? You need magic ink to make your pen automatic! Then you'll have something no one else has!"

I had heard of Blue-black, Royal Blue, and Black ink, but magic ink. I was truly hooked! After some prodding, Dinu said almost reluctantly, "My uncle is a sorcerer, like the king of sorcerers, Mayong. He had to study long and hard to learn hundreds of spells by heart. It was difficult but in the end, he had powerful magic too. If you pay for the ritual, he’ll give you some magic ink"!

Dinu told me that with magic ink in my pen, I would know all the answers. The geography test was tomorrow and I did not trust my memory. Therefore, after some haggling, I parted with my new pen and my entire birthday gift of 100 rupees. Dinu explained that with magic ink inside, the pen would automatically write the correct answer. All I would have to do is hold the pen loosely and whisper the question. It sounded easy and foolproof. What could go wrong?

I waited for Dinu, full of anticipation, hardly able to contain my excitement. However, Dinu never showed up! Then it was 9 o'clock and I was late for school and my mother was getting distraught.

My father had an important meeting, so he had no time to drive us. My mother rang up the convent and told them that I would not be able to come to school that day. The Sister Superior was understanding and agreed to shift my test to the next week.

I had a week’s grace, but what about my magic ink? My faith in grownups was badly shaken. Perhaps, I thought sadly, magic only happened in storybooks. Deeply disappointed, I went back to my lessons and kept reading and repeating names of capital cities, population, and main products.

I was thinking of the mighty magician Mayong and the tough spells he had learned by heart. As I studied, I thought of rhymes to link states and their capitals, produce and population and so on. To my surprise, it worked! I found that I could remember things that had baffled me before. Was Mayong’s magic helping me after all?

The week went by swiftly and it was test day again. I opened the geography question paper with a sinking heart expecting my mind to go blank as usual. I was prepared to see the questions dance before my eyes and the answers, learned moments ago, vanish. But today was different. To my surprise, I remembered answers to most of the questions and with my old fountain pen filled with regular ink, wrote with confidence.

While not spectacular, I did much better than before. While handing me the work book Sister Amelia said with a faint smile, “See, all you needed was hard work and full attention”. Back home, when I showed my work book to mother, she asked “You have done better than I’d expected. You must have worked hard, I’m glad!” She sighed with heartfelt relief.

So the grown-ups believed that hard work was the best spell for learning. Perhaps they were right. After all, I had indeed worked hard for the test.