The tension from the test still lingered in the academy. Everyone knew cheating had happened, but no one knew who would be dragged into it next. Conversations were quieter than usual, laughs didn't last as long, and people seemed more watchful than before.
What surprised me more was who had been involved. Batch 1 — the so-called "elite" group — wasn't untouched. Even during the test, I had overheard a few of them whispering answers and discussing questions as if it was nothing. I remember feeling confused even then.
It was only the second test of 12th grade, and things had already turned messy.
At the same time, I was still stuck on something else entirely. I couldn't get over the fact that my sixth sense's prediction had gone right once again. Piyush and Tejas had even asked me for a party after I crossed the 100-mark score for only the second time in six months. A physics question had errors, which gave us four bonus marks, and Satyam sir had included six questions from nomenclature — a chapter that hadn't even been taught.
It was strange how both things existed together — the tension around me, and me being caught up in my own small win.
The first lecture somehow passed, but the second one — Sameer sir's — had everyone on edge. Unfortunately, or maybe deliberately on his part, it was scheduled in Classroom 9, the same room where the cheating had happened the previous day.
As I walked in, I felt a strange uneasiness. My eyes instinctively went to the spot where I had been sitting the day before. I took the fourth bench with Ramesh while Achintya, Naira and Sanjana J took the seats behind us, their gossips standing out from the usual classroom hum.
Every time I heard Naira speak, I didn't turn back, but I knew she was there.
It hadn't always been like that.
The first time I had actually sat beside her had been a week earlier, after a random seating shuffle. Third bench. Naira beside me, and Sanjana J near the wall. From the outside, it must have looked completely ordinary — just three students sharing space.
"Are you comfortable?" I had asked her, more out of habit than anything else.
Naira nodded and asked me the same, smiling lightly.
I laughed it off, saying it felt like we were sitting in a crowded local train.
"Haan?" she leaned in, that same smile still there.
I repeated it, a little clearer this time, and she kept looking at me as her smile widened, as if trying to catch both the words and the meaning behind them. For a moment, I wasn't even sure if she had fully understood it — but she smiled anyway.
What stayed with me more was what followed. With that same ease, she pointed out that I was shaking my leg and asked if I was anxious, and I brushed it off, telling her it was just a habit.
In the present, Sameer Sir's arrival signaled the start of the inquiry into the previous day's incident. After gauging the class's reaction to the difficulty level, he turned his attention to the front-benchers. Between his sharp warnings and the mention of CCTV footage, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Nobody spoke after that.
At one point, Sanjana leaned forward and asked how we would be travelling for the practicals the next day. I replied briefly, my attention still fixed on the board.
The silence returned almost immediately, with one seeming to break it.
I had a question of my own — about the board-level test pattern — but asking it felt harder than it should have. With Sameer Sir's eyes fixed on his iPad, I went over the words in my head more than once before finally saying them out loud.
He responded, and for a moment, it felt like things might return to normal.
But then, from behind, I heard a soft whisper.
I turned slightly.
"Will all the subjects be together?" Naira asked softly, glancing at Sanjana, her voice low enough not to disturb the room.
A moment later, both of them looked at me.
"Puch na sir se?" she said quietly, giving a small gesture in my direction.
I was not sure if it was the first time I saw her eyes blink so fast.
For a second, I hesitated. I wasn't sure why I had been chosen as the messenger. But I asked anyway. Speaking up had never really been difficult for me, even in a room that had fallen into complete silence. Maybe she had noticed that — the way I had asked my own doubt without holding back — and that was why she chose me.
Sir answered her question as well, mentioning that we'll receive the instructions soon.
And for some reason, that moment stayed with me — maybe because, without really noticing when it had started, I had begun paying a little more attention to her presence in the room. I didn't know it then, but I would end up being the one she would turn to whenever she had something to ask.
* * * * * * * *
Those few days of practicals served as a perfect break between the tension of the ongoing chemistry game and the weekly tests. The first day began with a compromise. By the time I typed out a message in the organic chemistry group saying I wouldn't be able to attend the doubt session, nine others had already sent the same. Missing Satyam Sir's lecture was never easy, but with the practical clashing with it, there wasn't much of a choice.
For computer science II (hardware) our group included Ramesh, Sanjana J, Lizz, Neil — and me. It felt like a coincidence at first, ending up with the same people again, but then it didn't seem like much of one anymore. We were all in the same class now.
Very quickly, everyone seemed to fall into a role. Sanjana took control of the microcontroller as if she had done it before, Ramesh stayed close to the teacher, trying to understand every step of the process, while Neil assisted wherever needed. Lizz remained mostly quiet, watching closely, picking things up without saying much.
And then there was me — standing slightly apart, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. I had never been particularly good at computer science, and practicals like these only made it more obvious. While the others were busy figuring things out, I found myself doing nothing but observing them. Not the device — them.
After Sanjana finished an experiment, the next turn came up, but no one stepped forward. I waited for a moment, then called out to her from behind Neil.
"Can you do this one as well?"
There was no hesitation in her response. No judgment either. She simply agreed and got back to the device, as if it didn't matter that I had been standing there without contributing anything so far. And only after that did I realise how long I had just been watching them, doing nothing.
Once we were done, the four of us stood together near the table — Sanjana and Lizz leaning casually against it, while Neil and I stood opposite them.
"Tanish…"
I looked up at Sanjana.
"…ye cheating hai."
I followed her gaze down to my pants before looking back at her, confused.
"Huh?"
"Your pants," she said.
For a second, that caught me off guard. We had spoken before, but always because of the game — team decisions, questions, something that had a reason behind it. This felt different.
I glanced at them again — slightly darker than the usual uniform — and shrugged, trying to be normal. "At least the cheating is only in the pants, right?"
"Even the shirt is different.", Lizz looked at me for a second before adding,
I still hadn't bought the college uniform and had been managing with one of my dad's shirts and trousers.
The next day was about me realising I had misunderstood something basic. When the teachers had asked us to bring a lab apron, I had taken it quite literally.
"Don't tell me you brought a kitchen apron," one of the girls, barely holding back her laugh.
I didn't even need to answer. My silence said enough.
For the rest of the morning, that became a running joke as others got to know how stupid I was. But once we entered the chemistry lab, the mood shifted. Unlike the previous day, the fans weren't switched on, and the heat inside the lab made it difficult to even stand comfortably. Monika ma'am was the in-charge this time, and she made it clear from the start that this was a chemistry practical — no sitting, no leniency.
She also checked for lab coats, which made me quietly message a friend of mine to somehow lend his coat to me for the next two days. We were arranged in alternate rows, and when it came to explaining the procedure, Sanjana was the first one to be questioned, which she handled with ease, as expected.
During the demonstration, ma'am accidentally took the solution a bit too far while using the pipette and rushed out soon after, leaving the class laughing for a moment before everything returned to silence when she came back.
The rest of the practical was spent standing in the heat, trying to get through the experiment without breaking any of her strict rules.
For the physics practical, we were assigned the oscillations experiment. I gave up almost immediately, joking that instead of performing it, I could at least help by fanning everyone with my practical book.
As expected, Sanjana and Ramesh took charge again. She handled the experiment while he recorded the time period, the two of them coordinating with an ease that stood out. It wasn't something dramatic, but the way they worked together — without confusion, without unnecessary discussion — made it clear they understood each other's pace. I found myself watching them more than the experiment itself.
Sanjana handed me Lizz's book as I stepped out to take the readings to ma'am, something I was always comfortable doing. When I returned, though, my practical book was missing from the table.
I asked Lizz about it, reminding her I had left it with her, but she simply shook her head, as if she didn't know. I searched around the lab, checking one table after another, trying not to let the irritation show too much. Losing my belongings was something that always bothered me more than it should have.
After a few minutes of pointless searching and one wrong assumption about someone else's book, I finally realised what had happened — I hadn't even written my name on it. One of the unnamed books lying around was mine. When I picked it up, the relief was immediate.
The last day of the practical coincided with my parents' nineteenth wedding anniversary. They had insisted that I join them at Leopold Café, but I refused. I hadn't missed a single lecture in all this time — skipping an entire practical session didn't even feel like an option.
But when I reached college and saw that only the four of us had shown up, with Sanjana absent as well, I couldn't help but wonder if missing a practical was really that big a deal after all.
After three days under Monika ma'am, my perspective had shifted a little. It didn't feel like she was being harsh anymore — just strict in a way the lab probably demanded.
Once the final chemistry practical was done, she even allowed us to take pictures with the apparatus, though only in groups. Somehow, I still managed to sneak in a quick photo of my own. The physics practical, on the other hand, was more about the instructions for the next practical session, which would be held around Diwali.
By the time we reached the academy, barely ten minutes were left before the lecture, and even then, only a few students had arrived. The class filled up just moments before it began. Sajit sir seemed to notice the condition of the students who had returned from their practicals, and thus chose not to introduce anything new, asking us to simply solve questions instead.
Some of us even drifted into short naps, heads resting on our desks, not really caring about the questions in front of us — not realising that we would end up paying for it in the very next lecture.
* * * * * * * *
I never quite understood the logic behind Sajit Sir's choice of punishment.
Entering the class right after lunch on the Monday following our practicals, he didn't begin teaching. Instead, he scanned the room slowly before ordering every boy from Batch 2 to stand up. One by one, he assigned us new seats — between two girls on benches meant for two.
The room soon filled with whispers, nervous laughter, and side glances. No one knew the official reason, but the rumors were already traveling through the rows—apparently, someone had been caught sleeping in the previous lecture, and this was our collective penance.
'Sit there,' Sajit Sir instructed me, his finger pointing toward a spot that felt like the center of a storm: the bench which had Naira and Sanjana.
Sanjana, who was sitting on the outer side, shifted inward to create a small gap. But before I could move, sir interrupted.
"Sit between both of them."
Great.
For a second, I just stood there.
Sitting beside Naira had started to feel easy, light, and normal. But beside Sanjana, however, it felt different — quieter and more formal, as if you had to think before speaking.
Two different energies on one bench.
Sanjana stood to let me pass, and I slid into the narrow space between them.
From the back benches, a few suppressed laughs and murmured comments followed as I took my seat. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. I knew exactly what they were about.
On my left was Naira, sitting near the wall with her notebook open. She looked up briefly, just to check if I had settled, and gave a small nod.
That simple gesture eased something inside me.
"Are you okay?" I asked her quietly, directing it only at her.
She shifted her arm a little to make space.
"Yeah… it's fine. You?"
"I'll manage," I answered with a faint smile, as she went back to her notebook.
When I turned to ask Sanjana the same question as Naira, she nodded without looking up. Even though the question was the same, the silence that followed felt different.
Sir had started explaining inverse functions. Naira rested her chin on her hand, her gaze shifting from the board to her book and back again.
"Kya hua?" I whispered. "Not solving?"
She exhaled lightly.
"Bhai, meko maths nahi pasand."
Bending forward, she rested both arms on the desk. Her pen moved, paused, and then moved again, but her eyes weren't really on the questions. For a brief moment, the punishment didn't feel like punishment anymore. Behind us, Neil and the rest of the usual crowd kept passing unnecessary, distasteful comments, but to me, the moment was simply about being there.
I shifted my focus to the next question and verified the solution with Sir, which turned out to be correct.
Just then, I was about to glance at Naira when Sanjana nudged my notebook.
"What about this one?"
The moment slipped away.
I shifted slightly to the right, careful not to brush shoulders, and explained what I could. She asked another question, and when I moved to raise my hand, she stopped me with a small shake of her head.
Sanjana wanted the answer, not the attention.
So I tried solving myself, writing the steps quickly.
"Write it properly," she said.
I slowed down.
"Properly."
I rewrote the line, reading it aloud.
Before I could finish—
"Tanish."
Sir's voice cut through.
"Get up. Sit in front."
For a second, I stared at the page.
Then I stood up. Tejas, who was also sitting between two other girls, switched places with me.
Perfect. I finally got a chance to sit beside Naira, and I still managed to waste it, I thought, almost mocking myself for letting the moment slip away.
Walking to the front bench felt strangely abrupt. The cramped space, the two different silences, the quiet contrast — all of it stayed behind in one second.
"Too much talking." Sir mentioned before he resumed teaching as if nothing had happened. But the rest of the lecture didn't feel the same anymore.
Every minute, I felt like turning back — just to see if Naira was still sitting the same way, head down over her notebook, or if she had finally started taking down the notes.
But I didn't.
I just kept looking ahead.
Ten days later, the classroom felt hollow. It was the final lecture before summer break, and Batch 1 looked unusually thin — barely eighteen students had shown up. The year itself seemed to be slowing down, as if already halfway into vacation mode.
Seeing the empty benches, Sameer Sir decided to continue anyway. He announced he would finish capacitors — probably knowing that those who skipped would return to a gap in their notes.
"Haa…" I joked a little too loudly, saying that otherwise a girl would start complaining that she wasn't understanding anything.
A few students laughed, until I heard a familiar voice from behind.
"Tanish…?"
The voice came softly from behind me.
I turned.
It was Naira.
"You shouldn't say that about her," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the notebook as she said it
"Why?" I asked, half-smiling.
"Because someone here might tell her… and she'll feel bad."
Naira said it like it was obvious, not needing any explanation. I didn't give any attention to her words and I turned back toward the board,
The final few minutes of the lecture drifted into a discussion about the JEE Main results of our seniors. For a while, the whole class dropped their pens and listened to Sameer sir as he talked about ranks and attempts.
And just like that, the lecture ended. The summer vacations had officially begun — something I had been waiting impatiently for days.
And without realizing it, that initial phase in the elite batch came to a pause.
* * * * * * * *
Ten days later, the classroom felt unusually empty. It was the final lecture before summer break, and barely half the batch had shown up, with the rest of them already slipping into vacation mode. I, too, was excited for my first solo train journey.
Sameer sir continued with capacitors anyway, knowing those who skipped would return to incomplete notes. At one point, I joked a little too loudly that otherwise someone would start complaining about not understanding anything.
A few students laughed, until I heard a soft voice from behind.
"Tanish…?"
I turned. It was once again Naira.
"You shouldn't say that about her," she whispered, without looking up from her notebook.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because someone might tell her… and she'll feel bad."
She said it simply, as if it didn't need explaining. I didn't respond and turned back toward the board. The lecture drifted into a discussion about our seniors' JEE results, and before it could feel like anything more, it ended.
And just like that, summer break began.
Without realising it then, that first phase in Batch 1 had quietly come to a pause. What was waiting on the other side of those vacations, I had no idea yet.
* * * * * * * *
"Tanish?" she whispered the moment our eyes met.
I had barely pushed the classroom door open when, unexpectedly, she was the first person I saw.
I looked up to find Naira staring at me with that familiar puzzled smile, her gaze briefly shifting between me and Rushika, as if she was confirming that I had actually shown up.
It was the first day after the summer break, and the classroom was already crowded. Even Naira and Rushika, who usually sat in the front, had ended up a few rows behind.
I gave a small nod and moved ahead, squeezing past bags and shoulders, but there were no seats at the front and none in the middle either. Before I could settle anywhere, Sunny sir noticed me.
"Late?" he asked.
"I just came back from my hometown, sir," I replied.
He glanced at the clock and said, "It's only been half an hour. You could've rested."
I didn't respond and quietly took a seat on the second-last bench.
The lecture was on hyperbolas, a chapter that once felt familiar. But that day, the curves on the board felt distant, my head still heavy from travel and my mind refusing to settle back into any kind of routine.
The IPL final later that week became a major topic of discussion. First, the rain over two days had already messed with everyone's excitement, and when the match finally happened, it went on so late that I ended up falling asleep.
I still remember waking up early the next morning out of habit. The first thing I did was check the score. Chennai had won.
The mood was ruined instantly.
At the academy too, the only thing anyone seemed to be talking about was the final. Piyush started teasing me the moment I walked in, and Karan quickly joined in. Chennai had just equalled Mumbai's record of five titles, and the sting of it was everywhere.
Even during Satyam sir's lecture, the whispers about the match continued. Everyone had something to say. Karan and Piyush shared some reliving key moments, while I was squeezed onto a bench with Achintya and Ramesh arguing over what could have gone differently in the game.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, I heard a familiar voice.
"Tanish?"
I turned around.
Naira was looking at me.
It was only then that I realised she and Sanjana had been sitting right behind me all along—which, in itself, was surprising. I hadn't even noticed. Maybe I was still too caught up in the aftermath of the match to pay attention to anything else.
"Who won yesterday's final?" she asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
"Chennai won it," I replied, still sulking.
She seemed slightly puzzled that I wasn't happy about the result. I explained that Chennai were Mumbai's biggest rivals and then asked whether she supported them.
"Nahi, meko Mumbai pasand hai .", she replied in her usual maharashtrian tone.
That answer lifted my mood a little. It was oddly comforting—like, oh wow, even Naira supported Mumbai.
Curious, I gestured toward Sanjana and asked about her, who simply shook her head in response, the black mask hiding most of her expression.
Looking at how cramped the three of us were on the bench, Naira remarked that it could never accommodate three people—which, to be fair, was absolutely right.
I still stayed there… but this time, with a thought in mind.
Should I ask them if I can sit with them?
I was already on the edge, almost slipping off, and at the same time, I didn't want to make things awkward. Naira and Sanjana were sitting comfortably. What if I disturbed that?
I thought about it for a moment—and then finally asked,
"Can I sit with you two?" I said, tired of sliding off the edge.
"Yeah," Naira said, shifting slightly as Sanjana moved closer to the wall to make space.
Surprised, I quietly and carefully took the little space they made and sat beside Naira.
Once I settled in, I noticed something strange—neither of them was really writing the notes. They only pretended to whenever Satyam sir walked past.
After a brief silence, with everyone settled comfortably, Naira leaned toward me and whispered, "Next lecture is Sameer sir's."
"Isn't it supposed to be Ajay sir's physics?" I asked.
"The timetable changed," she replied calmly. "Message aaya abhi group pe."
She added that Sameer Sir had told everyone to bring their physics notebooks from home, and that anyone without it wouldn't be allowed inside.
For a moment I froze.
There was no way I could go all the way home and come back in time. The thought stayed in my head through the rest of the lecture. I didn't even check my phone after the lecture ended, not even after the next lecture ended.
Only when I saw Ajay sir walking into the classroom for his lecture, I realised that I had been fooled by the two girls.
Confused, I caught up with Naira as she was leaving.
"Wait… wasn't the next lecture supposed to be Sameer Sir's?"
Naira laughed, "We were just joking."
Apparently the whole thing had been Sanjana's idea, who turned back for a moment and gave a small, sheepish smile through her mask.
For a second I wasn't sure how to react. We hadn't really known each other that well for very long, yet she seemed comfortable enough to include me in something like that.
Sanjana always seemed like a different person when she spoke—and when she didn't. I hadn't really interacted with her much until then. Even when I sat with Sanjana and Naira, I usually ended up sitting beside Naira—something I always wanted, even if it happened unintentionally.
And of course, there was that one time I ended up sitting between them—which still remains an embarrassing memory. In the middle of trying to explain a question to Sanjana, Satish sir made me get up and shift away from Naira's side—something I regretted more than I expected, for it meant missing out on those brief, quiet glances at her eyes.
And then, one day when I arrived very late to class. By the time I entered, Vansh, along with two other girls—who had recently been promoted to Batch 1—had already taken my usual spot on the third bench.
Left with no option, I sat with Paresh on the second-last bench.
The lecture had already begun, and Sameer Sir had started the chapter on magnetism. Sitting at the back made it difficult for me to see the board properly, and I could barely follow what was being taught. I looked around for a better seat, but almost every bench closer to the front was full.
Except one.
The only bench that seemed to have a clear spot—despite Sanjana and Naira already sitting there—was theirs. I noticed it immediately. But this time, something was different. Naira usually was usually on the outer side, and I would just ask her.
This time, it was Sanjana.
I considered going up and asking her, but getting up in the middle of the lecture and walking across the class didn't feel easy—with Sanjana being the other reason, of course. I hesitated for a while, then leaned slightly toward Paresh—who was, by then, no stranger to being bluntly rejected by her—and told him what I was thinking.
"Just go," he said. "You can do it."
That was enough.
I picked up my book, walked to their bench, and tapped Sanjana lightly on the shoulder.
"Can I sit here for a while? Just for a bit?" I asked.
"Beth ja," she replied calmly, without even looking up properly.
I adjusted myself carefully and sat down beside them, making sure I didn't take up too much space. Sameer Sir turned to face the class, he didn't comment on my move. Noticing all the benches were occupied, he announced that students who didn't perform well in the upcoming board-level test would be moved to Batch 2, easing the crowd in Batch 1.
Hearing this, I felt a wave of anxiety—I knew my performance hadn't been great.
I quickly shared my concerns with Piyush and Karan, who were nearby.
I kept shifting a little now and then, trying to sit comfortably without disturbing the girls beside me.
"Hila mat," Sanjana said suddenly.
Like Naira, Sanjana couldn't tolerate my habit of shaking my feet either. I paused but then resumed. She glanced at me again and repeated the same thing.
"Don't do it," she repeated.
This time, I stayed still, continuing my discussion with Karan and Piyush in a low voice for the rest of the lecture.
While staying quiet in between and trying to focus on the lecture, I heard Sanjana,
"Tuh-nish?"—her eyes still on her notebook.
"Hmm?" I replied, quickly turning away from the boys toward her.
"Will you be sitting here in the math lecture as well?"
"No," I said. "I'll probably move back. The front benches will be free after this."
She murmured something I didn't catch.
"What?" I asked, leaning a little closer.
"Oki," she repeated.
"Why though? Is there not enough space?" I asked, shifting slightly away.
"No… there is," she said. "I just like sitting comfortably."
That caught me a little off guard.
While everyone was noting down the question, the discussion briefly shifted to colleges —government ones, their lower fees, and the idea of not becoming a financial burden on parents. Sameer sir even mentioned a reward for top JEE rankers—a visit to the Apple Store.
Hearing that, I felt a sudden spark.
"I'm going to do something like that too,"
"What?" Sanjana asked, still focused on her notes.
I told her about my goal of becoming an IAS officer—and how I'd celebrate by throwing a party once I make it. She laughed loud enough for me to hear, though her eyes never left her notebook.
As the lecture ended, I stood up and looked at her.
"Thanks for letting me sit here," I said.
She simply nodded and blinked in acknowledgement before getting up.
* * * * * * * * *
The month of July often brought fluctuations in my health. By then, the Mumbai monsoon had already set in, and our session's third classroom game had begun. Despite losing the first match, I was once again chosen as the captain of my team.
Seeing the others place their trust in me felt reassuring. Interestingly, Amit was the opposing captain, and both teams seemed evenly matched—though mine perhaps looked slightly stronger on paper. With so many capable players on my side, I sometimes joked to myself that I only hoped my army wouldn't end up like the Kauravas'.
Lost in these thoughts, I was walking towards Shilp Chowk when I spotted Sanjana at her usual bus stop. She had been absent for the past few days, and I wanted to make sure she would be there for the game. After all, she—along with familiar faces like Naira, Ramesh, Ananya, Vansh, and others—was part of my team. I had made sure to retain the core of my previous team, along with the boost of Sammy, our vice-captain.
"Hey, are you coming tomorrow?" I asked, noticing how quietly she was sitting, lost in her own thoughts.
She nodded slowly.
"Please make sure to do the homework and prepare for the oral test," I added.
At that, her expression changed. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and there was a hint of a smile—hidden behind the mask. Her eyes almost seemed to say that I had made a mistake by reminding her to come prepared.
A moment later, she composed herself again and gave a small nod.
I had followed the same routine with everyone on my team—sending messages asking them to complete their homework and revise for the oral test. I wanted no issues on the first day and a strong start for the team.
Surprisingly, the next day, about two hours before the lecture, I received a message from Sanjana—a crying emoji. I had a sense of what it might be about, but I still asked.
She said she wouldn't be able to complete the homework, though she'd come prepared for the oral test. Instead of pointing it out, I jokingly mentioned that it had taken her 19 hours to even see my message. In her defence, she reminded me that she had always contributed more to the game than most—which I knew, and agreed with.
Then she added, "Mai hw karne bethi thi but my night was terrible due to personal reasons toh mai so gayi."
"Wait, why is she telling me about it?"
That caught me off guard—not because I doubted her, but because she chose to share it with me at all. We weren't particularly close, so that small admission felt unexpected.
I told her it wasn't my place to ask further—and quietly felt satisfied with that restraint. I didn't want to be the kind of person who pried into someone's private space, especially when she had already made it clear that it was personal.
It was the first day of the game, and I was unusually focused on getting my team seated in the right row. Back in B2, I had won both my games while sitting there, and the superstition had stayed with me. Since mujhe late hone wala tha, I had texted Naira, asking her to save the right-side row if I didnt come on time.
When she didn't respond, I asked Sanjana to check with her instead. She was still on the bus, just like me, and when I thanked her for helping, she replied with a hint of cleverness,
"Don't thank me, we're in the same team."
Reading that, I felt a slight sense of guilt settle in. I had just gone off at her a while ago, and yet she stayed calm—simply reminding me that we were on the same side.
Unfortunately, before Naira arrived, Amit's team had already claimed the right row, so we had to settle for the left. As the game unfolded, our team began to resemble the army of the Kauravas — all the answers seemed to come from their side. Despite them getting the last question wrong and losing two points, they were leading by four by the end of the day.
The second day of the game arrived sooner than I had expected. While almost everyone had completed their homework, I could already see myself scolding Sanjana again for not finishing her DPP—the same one she had confidently said she'd complete during the break.
But in the break, when I returned to the classroom after bringing my laptop from the repair shop, Prashant rushed over, visibly excited, and showed me a video he had just recorded. In it, Sanjana wasn't solving her homework — she was copying the DPP solutions.
Seeing the video infuriated me. My temper flared as I realised Sanjana was copying the answers. Without wasting a moment, I dashed over to her bench. I leaned in, looking closely at her work, and saw for myself that she had indeed been copying the answers.
I lashed out at her, frustration spilling into my words. I don't even remember what I said exactly—only that my tone was far harsher than the moment warranted. I usually made a conscious effort to speak respectfully, but in that instant, I was overwhelmed and let my emotions get the better of me.
Even after I confronted her, she insisted it wasn't a big deal. Sanjana said she wasn't copying—just checking her answers against the DPP solutions. She tried to pass it off as harmless and even said she'd explain the same to the teacher.
But it didn't sit right with me. To me, it still felt dishonest, and I couldn't ignore it—even if it meant confronting her.
I had barely managed to get over that when Prashant came up to me again, holding his phone and showing me another video. This time, Arjun and Ramesh were sitting side by side, copying homework—and even on the first bench, someone else was doing the same.
Seeing all of that, I was completely thrown off. That same thought of the Kauravas' army crossed my mind again. We were already trailing by two points, and this was only making things worse.
Eventually, Shashank sir arrived, and the situation unfolded in front of the class as Prashant showed the recordings. Several students were caught copying that day that cost heavy penalties to our team. Sanjana still stood by her point—that she was only checking her answers after solving.
To make matters worse, we ended up giving multiple wrong answers, and the day ended on a poor note for our team.
Looking back, what stayed with me wasn't the lost points, but the way I had spoken to Sanjana. It was a reaction she hadn't deserved. I had always tried not to use harsh words, especially with girls—but that day, I crossed that line.
Sanjana didn't say a word while I went on. Her eyes remained fixed on her book, and that silence only made me feel more embarrassed.
The game didn't end that day. Since the lectures themselves were irregular, the competition stretched across several weeks. And somewhere during those weeks, I had unknowingly found my permanent spot in the classroom—the third bench of the left row.
The people around me kept changing. Sometimes Kavya sat beside me, sometimes Ramesh, sometimes Shaurya or Achintya, and sometimes someone else entirely. Even the faces in front of me changed regularly.
But the two behind me rarely did.
Sanjana and Naira.
Even on days when Sanjana was absent and someone else took her place, one thing remained almost constant—Naira. And every now and then, she would lean forward slightly and whisper my name from behind.
"Tanish…?"
Sometimes she had a question. Sometimes she just wanted to confirm whether she had attended one of Sunny Sir's earlier lectures. And like a complete fool, I would pause for a few seconds, trying to recall the schedule in my head before answering her.
Within a few days, their presence behind me had quietly become a part of my routine.
Conversations with Naira were easy anyway, but with time, even those small exchanges started to feel… expected.
Perhaps that was the reason I began coming to the academy earlier than usual.
The library never really worked for me. All I wanted was to sit quietly on the third bench of classroom number ten and wait for the door to open.
Every few seconds, my eyes would drift back to it.
Any moment now…
…it should open now.
And then, through the small glass panel, I would notice a short figure walking toward it.
As the door opened, Naira would step inside with her head slightly lowered. Her hair, usually left open, would sway gently as she walked toward the fourth bench—the same seat I had quietly kept for her.
Before sitting down, she would glance in my direction. I would already be waiting for that moment, just to greet her with a small namaste.
She would return it with a soft smile.
And just before sitting, she would casually push her hair back—a small gesture, but one I somehow noticed every single time.
I often found myself looking toward their bench from a distance. And sometimes, just as I was watching, she would suddenly look up. The moment our eyes met, I would quickly look away, pretending I had been watching something else.
It happened often enough for me to notice.
Perhaps it was these small, awkward moments that slowly planted a thought in my head—that the people around me had started becoming a part of my everyday life.
And somewhere during those days, I remember thinking that maybe one day, I should write about how all of this had begun back in the eleventh grade.
At that time, it wasn't a book. It was just a vague thought—the idea of writing down the moments that had brought these people into my life.
And then, on the night of 28th August 2023, I quietly created an email account. In its Drive, I wrote my first-ever draft—the prologue, along with a few other encounters and interactions.
At that point, I had no plan, no structure, and no idea that it would turn into something much bigger.
It was simply something I enjoyed doing.
And from there, I never stopped.