The bone-chilling grip of winter was now a distant memory, a ghost that had vanished into the shadows of the past. Nature had long since embraced its fiery transformation; mango trees bowed under the weight of golden blossoms that filled the air with a sweet, heavy scent, while tiny green jackfruits peeked shyly from their thick branches. The sweet, gentle breeze of spring had beat a hasty retreat, making way for the unforgiving reign of the scorching sun. In this intense summer heat, life had become a weary struggle for the common folk, and even the birds seemed to have lost their songs.
On one such sweltering afternoon, four friends sat huddled under the massive, spreading shade of a Banyan tree on the college campus. Squinting at the fierce, white glare of the sun reflecting off the pavement, Ahin grumbled, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. "I'm telling you, guys, winter was a paradise compared to this! This sun isn't just shining; it's on a mission to burn us to a crisp and turn us into charcoal."
Mahir, who was busy trying to fan himself with a notebook, let out a dry laugh at Ahin's seasonal lament. "You've got a chronic problem, man! Your life is a cycle of dissatisfaction. In January, you were crying for a heater, and now in April, you're dreaming of the Arctic. Honestly, I don't think even the Creator knows how to make you happy!"
Everyone erupted into a chorus of laughter, leaving Ahin speechless. He just huffed and stared at the dry grass, defeated by Mahir's cold logic.
Amidst the constant banter, Nafiz remained unusually quiet. His mind was miles away, perhaps lingering in the narrow alleyway where he had first seen those 'deep, haunting eyes.' Noticing his friend's vacant stare and distant expression, Faiyaz decided it was time for a fresh dose of mischief. "Oh look at him!" Faiyaz cried out, leaning in with fake concern. "Is our little Romeo dreaming about his Bhabhi again? My poor, sweet baby... he's withered away in just a month. Look at those cheekbones! He's turned into a tragic, modern-day Devdas!"
The 'Bhabhi'(Brother's wife) tag hit Nafiz like a spark on a dry fuse. Unable to endure Faiyaz's mocking sympathy a second longer, Nafiz landed a sharp, heavy blow on his friend's back. "Shut up, Faiyaz!" Nafiz hissed through clenched teeth, his face flushed. "I told you a thousand times—don't you dare call her that again!"
Faiyaz didn't back down; instead, he sensed an opportunity for a masterpiece of acting. Clutching his back and staggering forward, he began to wail at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of passing students. "Citizens of this campus! Look at this brutality! Nafiz Arham has launched a cowardly, unprovoked assault on me! He's trying to crush my spine and suffocate the life out of me! Will you stand by and watch this injustice? Is there no law for the weak?"
Nafiz stared at him, his jaw dropping in disbelief. How does a slap on the back lead to suffocation? he thought, bewildered. Has this idiot finally lost his last two brain cells?
But Ahin and Mahir were already playing their parts. They jumped up and joined Faiyaz, forming a mock protest circle around Nafiz. They began chanting slogans as if they were in a political rally: "If anything happens to our leader Faiyaz Brother, every house in the city will burn! Justice for Faiyaz! Down with the tyrant Nafiz!"
Mahir added his own rhythmic, nonsensical chant, "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve... Nafiz, let go of the girl and join us for tea!"
The entire campus seemed to vibrate with their madness. Nafiz felt a mix of embarrassment and genuine amusement. "Where do you even get these ideas?" Nafiz asked, shaking his head. "I swear, even the mental asylum wouldn't have enough padded rooms for the three of you."
Ignoring his plea for sanity, Ahin took on the persona of a stern, high-court judge. "For the attempted murder of our most respected, honorable, and beloved playboy, Faiyaz Raihan, we hereby pledge to file a criminal case at the local precinct. We strongly condemn your barbaric, inhumane behavior! You shall be shunned from our group for at least... five minutes!"
Laughter exploded again, echoing off the college walls. Nafiz, joining in despite his best efforts to stay grumpy, looked at Ahin. "Hey, how are you so cheerful today? Usually, before results are announced, your hands and legs are shaking like a leaf. What happened to your legendary anxiety?"
Faiyaz puffed out his chest, announcing proudly, "Guru (leader), don't take stress! In this past one month, I've given him special training. He's now a senior member of our 'Vondo Group' (The Hypocrites). He's learned that if you can't pass, at least you can pretend you don't care!"
Mahir chimed in with a dramatic wail, beating his chest like he was at a funeral. "Shame on you, Faiyaz! Shame! Our bright future, a boy who was supposed to be a top engineer, a pride of BUET... and you've dragged him down into your pit of nonsense? I strongly condemn this national tragedy!"
As the drama reached its ridiculous peak, the college bell rang. Nafiz slapped Faiyaz on the shoulder, ending the show. "If your mega-serial is finally over, let's head to class. I saw the Principal's car. He's already in." The mention of the 'Big Boss' acted like a bucket of ice water on their spirits. The laughter stopped instantly, and the four friends scrambled toward the main hall.
The four of them squeezed into the very last bench of the auditorium, trying to remain invisible. The Principal stood at the mahogany podium, adjusting his thick glasses. He was a man known for his long-windedness. He began with a humble smile, saying, "Dear students, I know you are anxious, so I will not prolong my speech..."
But those words were a trap. His 'brief' address showed absolutely no signs of ending. One hour and ten minutes passed, and he was still lecturing them on the history of education, the ethics of science, and his own childhood struggles.
The scene in the hall was a study in human behavior. The 'front-benchers'—the eager, over-achieving students—were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word as if they were discovering the secrets of the universe. Meanwhile, the back-benchers were in a state of chaotic survival. Some were playing tic-tac-toe on their desks, while others were deep in hushed, frantic whispers about their weekend plans.
"This is a war crime," Mahir hissed, his head resting on the desk. "He said he wouldn't prolong it, and he's been drilling our brains for over an hour. My ears are actually bleeding."
Faiyaz whispered back, his eyes darting around for a distraction. "Don't you get it? The old man definitely had a massive fight with his wife this morning. She probably didn't give him breakfast, and now he's taking all that hunger and frustration out on us. We are his captives!"
Finally, the Principal closed his folder. A wave of relief washed over the room. The time for the results had arrived. The air grew thick with tension. Amidst the heavy sighs of Mahir and Faiyaz, who were already calculating their chances of survival at home, Ahin whispered, "Thank the heavens! The torture is over."
The Principal opened the final result sheet, his expression turning grave and proud. "Our college has a tradition of excellence," he began, "And today, achieving the highest marks in the Science department and securing the absolute first position is—Nafiz Arham."
The hall erupted in a thunderous applause. "Nafiz, please come to the stage to receive your honor," the Principal called out.
Back on the last bench, however, Nafiz was in a completely different world. The long speech and the heat had taken their toll; he was half-asleep, his chin resting on his hand. Ahin gave him a sharp, painful pinch on the arm. "Hey, wake up, you idiot! Sir is calling your name! Get up!"
Nafiz blinked his groggy eyes, looking around in utter confusion. The applause felt like distant thunder. "Why? Why do I have to go up there?"
A wicked, devilish idea flashed in Faiyaz's mind—the ultimate prank. He put on his most somber, tragic face and leaned in close. "Dude, you're in deep trouble. I saw the list. Apparently, you completely failed Physics. Sir is calling you up there to make an example out of you. He wants you to stand there and hold your ears as punishment before the whole college. Go! If you delay, he'll call your father!"
Stunned by his friend's confident, terrifying lie, Nafiz's brain completely froze. The fear of his father's reaction outweighed his common sense. The Principal's voice rang out again, more urgently this time, "Nafiz Arham? Is he in the hall?"
With a heart full of terror and his stomach doing somersaults, Nafiz stood up and began the long walk toward the stage. His mind was a mess. How did I fail Physics? I studied so hard... I've never been out of the top five in my life... and now, this? Public execution?
His ears burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer sun. By the time he reached the stage, he was so consumed by shame that he couldn't even look the Principal in the eye. Without waiting for a word, Nafiz lowered his head, reached up, and grabbed his own ears, dropping into a slight squat—the classic 'ear holding' punishment stance.
A pin-drop silence fell over the hall. For five seconds, you could have heard a fly buzz. Nafiz squeezed his eyes shut, thinking to himself—this is it. This is the moment I die of embarrassment. This is the end of Nafiz Arham.
The Principal stared down at him, his mouth hanging open. He adjusted his glasses once, then twice, utterly flabbergasted. "Nafiz? My boy... why on earth are you holding your ears? What are you doing?"
Nafiz, turning a deep shade of crimson, stammered with a trembling voice, "Sir... I'm sorry. I know I failed Physics. You said I had to stand here as punishment... I'm ready for it."
The Principal let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-laugh. "Incredible! When did I say you failed? I just announced to the entire hall that you are the topper of this year! I'm here to give you a medal, not a punishment! Who told you this nonsense?"
The moment those words hit him, the world seemed to spin. Nafiz looked toward the back of the hall. There, in the very last row, he saw Faiyaz, Ahin, and Mahir. They were no longer sitting; they were literally rolling under the bench, clutching their stomachs, their faces purple from laughing silently. Their cackling joy was so intense it seemed to reach the stage.
Nafiz's embarrassment instantly transformed into a volcanic rage. He ground his teeth, his knuckles turning white. He hissed under his breath, "You little devils... just let me get off this stage. If I don't make you forget your own names by the time the sun sets, my name isn't Nafiz Arham!"
Seeing the topper of the college in such a bizarre, self-punishing state, the entire hall finally broke. A roar of laughter swept through the auditorium. Nafiz stood there, medal in hand, ears still red, thinking of only one thing—it's a crime to even go to hell with friends like these!
~ To be continued ~