Chalo Charcha

  Are We Still Watching? When I was seven, I had a phase where I used to flinch at the sound of fireworks.  I knew they weren’t gunshots, but I’d still duck instinctively, heart racing. Now imagine a world where the sound is gunfire. Where there are no fireworks, only funerals. Where children don’t flinch anymore- because they've gotten used to it. That world isn’t a dystopian future. It’s now. It’s Gaza. It’s Ukraine. It’s every name, every place, that was trending- for a day- before we moved on. We scroll past crumbled schools and lifeless bodies like they’re just another headline in a feed full of banana bread recipes and skincare routines. A child’s final scream plays for ten seconds before a podcast clip interrupts it. A grieving mother pleads for help in broken English, and the comment section debates her accent. An apartment is blown to dust in real time, and someone writes: “Praying 🙏🏽💔.”  We’re watching war like it’s content. Watching children die like i...

Big Brother is Watching You I was fifteen when I was given The Kite Runner as a gift. I didn’t know much about it. I didn’t know it would gut me. I didn’t know that by the time I turned the last page, something in me would be quieter. And also louder. Because that’s what that book did. It took me to Kabul, to betrayal, boyhood, and the kind of guilt that sticks to your ribs. It made me sit with shame, with love, with things that didn’t have clean endings. It gave me a window into a world I had never lived in and a mirror that showed me feelings I didn’t have the language for yet. It didn’t change my life. It shaped it. And now I think about how many kids might never get that moment. Not because they don’t read. But because someone else decided they shouldn’t. In 2023, over 3,300 books were challenged or banned across the U.S.  Most of them? Books that talk about race, identity, queerness, grief, history, and truth. Books like Gender Queer , The Hate U Give , All Boys Aren’t Blue ...

Smile For The Camera When I was ten, my biggest worry was whether I’d get to sit next to my best friend in class. My proudest moment? Probably winning a school competition. My afternoons were spent lying on the floor, scribbling words in a glittery diary that no one was allowed to read. Now, imagine a world where a child never gets to have those moments. A world where glitter is replaced by glam. Where the diary is a script, the classroom is a studio, and the spotlight never fades. This is the reality for many child influencers. At first glance, it all seems harmless. A cute outfit. A dance challenge. A vlog from a birthday party. But beneath the soft pink filters and curated captions lies something much more complex. These children grow up under the gaze of millions. Their smiles, tantrums, friendships, and even their heartbreaks are consumed like episodes of a never-ending reality show. They are not just seen. They are sold . The internet praises them for being "mature beyond th...