Before the morning light could penetrate the narrow, grimy alleys of Tejturi Bazar, Ariyan was wide awake. A single sliver of grey light filtered through the crack in the broken mess window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Today was a monumental day in his life—his first day of classes at 'Dhaka Ideal College.' Ariyan sat up and saw his roommate Rafsan still hunched over his desk, head buried in a massive textbook under the glow of a flickering lamp. The dark circles under the boy's eyes were a testament to how desperate he was to secure a seat in medical school.
Ariyan carefully pulled out his only ironed white shirt from his trunk. Before he left home, his mother had sewn a tiny black thread inside the collar—a traditional gesture to ward off the 'evil eye.' Standing before a foggy, stained mirror, Ariyan looked at his reflection. The glass was blurred, but the dreams in his eyes were crystal clear.
Moti Mia, the mess manager, was standing on the balcony brushing his teeth. Seeing Ariyan dressed up, he gave a crooked smirk. "Well, well, Mr. Ariyan! First day of college, eh? Be careful out there. The seniors are usually lying in wait to 'rag' the newcomers. There are two boys named Sohag and Roni—if you see them, walk with your head down."
Moti Mia's words sparked a flicker of fear in Ariyan's heart, but he didn't lose courage. He packed the diary given by Sajib and Rahat into his bag and patted his pocket to ensure the plastic medal from Milli was still there.
Upon reaching the college gates, Ariyan was dazzled. Sleek, expensive cars were lined up, dropping off students. Groups of boys and girls in crisp, fashionable clothes were laughing and chatting. Amidst this vibrant crowd, Ariyan felt profoundly out of place. His cheap sandals and slightly oversized shirt seemed to scream that he didn't belong to this world.
A group of senior students stood near the entrance. One of them, Sharif, wore a black Panjabi and dark sunglasses. Sharif spotted Ariyan and called out, "Hey, you! Country chicken! Come here."
Ariyan's heart began to race. As he approached, Sharif sneered, "New admission? Go stand by that pillar and act like a chicken for ten minutes."
Ariyan stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Just then, a tall, well-built boy pushed through the crowd. This was Turjo. Though he looked like he came from a wealthy family, there was a kindness in his eyes. Turjo stepped in front of Sharif and said, "Sharif Bhai, why scare the kid on his first day? He's our younger brother. Let it go."
Sharif looked annoyed but eventually shrugged and smiled at Turjo. "Fine, Turjo, only because you're asking. But tell him to show us some respect."
Turjo placed a hand on Ariyan's shoulder. "Don't be afraid. I'm Turjo. Are you in the Science section too?"
Ariyan replied in a soft voice, "Yes, I'm Ariyan."
"Come on, Ariyan, we're in the same class. Where are you from?" Turjo's easygoing manner immediately put Ariyan at ease.
Inside the classroom, Ariyan saw that all the front seats were taken. He moved to the very back and sat in a corner. A few minutes later, a beautiful girl entered. Her name was Raisa. There was an air of elegance about her. she walked over and took the seat next to Turjo.
"Hi Turjo! Sorry I'm late, the traffic was insane," Raisa said with a bright smile.
Turjo pointed toward Ariyan. "Raisa, meet Ariyan. Our new friend."
Raisa turned to Ariyan and gave him a sweet, welcoming smile. "Hello Ariyan! Welcome to our class."
Ariyan simply nodded. He was amazed at how easily city students interacted with one another. Their speech, their mannerisms, everything was so different from what he knew.
The first lecture was Physics, conducted by Professor Dr. Harun-ur-Rashid. He entered the room and addressed the class in a grave tone. "Remember, college is worlds apart from school. No one will hold your hand here. Only those who can adapt will survive."
Dr. Harun suddenly wrote a complex mathematical problem on the board. The entire class went silent. No one could solve it. Raisa and Turjo were whispering to each other, puzzled. Ariyan began scribbling in the corner of his notebook. He remembered Mr. Shafiq back in the village teaching him a similar logic.
Ariyan gathered his courage and raised his hand. "Sir, may I try?"
Every eye in the room turned toward him. Sharif and his gang were peeking through the back window, equally surprised. Ariyan walked to the board and solved the problem with precision.
The Professor lowered his glasses in surprise. "Excellent! What is your name?"
"Ariyan, sir."
"Very good, Ariyan. This class needs brilliant minds like yours."
After the class, Turjo and Raisa cornered him.
"Dude! You became a hero on the very first day!" Turjo said enthusiastically.
Raisa added, "Seriously, Ariyan, you're so brilliant. You'll have to help us with these math problems sometimes."
Ariyan felt a surge of happiness. Perhaps he could find a place in this city. But the joy was short-lived. At the college canteen, he saw the prices and gasped. Turjo and Raisa ordered pizza and burgers, but Ariyan, mindful of every penny, only ordered a single 'Singara' and tea.
Raisa asked, "Ariyan, why just a Singara? Try the burger, they're famous here."
Ariyan gave a faint smile. "No Raisa, I'm not that hungry."
In reality, he was thinking that the price of one burger could fund his family's groceries for two days back home. This disparity pained him. The gap between the city's glamour and his personal struggle was something he felt deep in his bones today.
In the afternoon, Turjo offered him a lift on his expensive bike. Ariyan politely declined; he wanted to walk alone. As he walked, he observed the streets of Dhaka. On one side were grand shopping malls where people spent thousands, and on the other side, homeless children sat by open drains. Was this the soul of Dhaka?
Returning to the mess, he found the usual chaotic environment. Biplob Da and Jasim Bhai were arguing over water leaking under their seats. Moti Mia was shouting from downstairs. Ariyan felt a wave of loneliness. He pulled out the laddoos his mother had packed. As he bit into one, his mother's face flashed before his eyes.
He took out his diary. As he began to write about his day, his pen faltered. He wrote:
"Today I saw two different Dhakas. In one, there are people like Raisa and Turjo who are happy and know how to dream. In the other, there is me, where every smile comes with a calculation. Turjo's bike and Raisa's expensive perfume remind me that I am starting from the very bottom. But Dr. Harun's words are ringing in my ears—I must adapt."
Just then, he met Neelu Apa on the balcony. Neelu Apa lived in the adjacent flat and worked grueling hours at a garment factory to support her younger brother's education. Seeing Ariyan, she smiled kindly. "How was your first day, little brother?"
Ariyan replied, "It was good, Apa. But the city is very big."
Neelu Apa sighed. "The city is big, and that's why the struggle for small people like us is even bigger. Don't lose heart. Many boys from villages like yours are now sitting in the highest offices of this city. Just have patience."
Ariyan felt a renewed sense of strength from Neelu Apa's words. As night fell, he sat at his study table. He needed to prepare for tomorrow's lessons today. Friendship with Turjo and Raisa was fine, but he had to remember his goal. He had to become a BCS cadre, pay off his father's debts, and buy Milli that red-ribboned diary.
Suddenly, a message arrived on his old phone. It was from his friend Sajib back home: "Friend, the village feels empty without you. Mr. Shafiq asked about you in class today. Are you doing okay?"
Tears blurred Ariyan's vision. He realized he wasn't alone. An entire village was waiting for his success. He wiped his eyes and gripped his pen firmly. The history had only just begun. Every chapter would be a testament to his struggle.
That night, Ariyan studied for a long time. The noise of the mess, the music from the next room, the mosquito bites—nothing could distract him anymore. He was standing on a battlefield. And in this war, there was no room for defeat.