The Diwali vacation was alright, though our train from Mumbai was delayed, getting us to Gwalior six hours late.
I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate. Going to Gwalior meant leaving AOS—and leaving AOS meant leaving behind that vibrant energy, the shared laughter, and the people who made each day feel alive. Even though it was just a short break, it felt strangely painful.
Oddly enough, I didn't feel too left out by their trip because there weren't many Instagram stories—except for one from Naira. She had posted two pictures in that white top she'd been telling Sanjana about in the class. Due to the weak train signal, I couldn't see them clearly until the next day, hours after she'd uploaded them.
The first photo showed Naira standing on her balcony, her back to the camera, hands resting on the railing.
I quickly replied, "Naira on firee (fire emojis," to which she answered with a "Yass."
"I became a fan," I followed up, adding a few more emojis, and she sent back a laughing emoji.
It happened again later, on Diwali itself. This time, she wore a traditional outfit, holding a diya in her hands.
"I became a fan two times," I wrote, and again, she answered with that same laughing emoji.
It wasn't just her—almost everyone looked incredible in their traditional Diwali outfits on Instagram. Shubh posted a photo in a plain red kurta, I wore a blue one, and Sanjana shared pictures in a yellow saree.
If anything kept me busy, it was the practical submissions. Everyone was in a mild panic, scrambling to finish tutorials and complete the practical books. Lizz, Sanjana, Ramesh, and I were all actively discussing how to wrap it all up in time.
Meanwhile, India's incredible run in the 2023 World Cup continued into November. By then, India had already secured a place in the semi-finals.
At the Wankhede Stadium, India dominated New Zealand. Rohit Sharma got us off to a blazing start, smashing 47 runs off just 29 balls, including four sixes. His aggressive approach set the tone, and India piled up 397/4—thanks to centuries from Virat Kohli and Shreyas Iyer.
New Zealand's chase was led by Daryl Mitchell, who scored 134, but they fell short, all out at 327. India won by 70 runs and booked a place in the final. It felt like the dream was alive.
One quiet afternoon during the vacation, I found myself complaining in the group chat about how I'd be missing a four-hour physical chemistry lecture. Naira replied privately: "Missing a four-hour lecture is way better than missing an entire week of classes."
That's when I remembered—she was leaving for Rajasthan, something she'd mentioned before.
"Aww, I'll miss you sitting behind me," I teased, imagining her laugh.
She added, "Please ask someone with good handwriting to send me the notes."
I replied, "I'll write them out myself in neat handwriting and send them to you," and she answered with her classic smiley.
But even after coming back from the vacation, nothing felt the same. Naira wasn't around; Lizz never turned up; and Kavya was missing too. Sanjana kept her distance, probably because Naira wasn't there. Ramesh and Shaurya were present, but they sat further away, so we barely talked.
And then, as if things couldn't get worse, came November 19, 2023.
It didn't just break my heart—it shattered the hopes of a whole nation.
India lost to Australia in the World Cup final. The match felt like a nightmare: Rohit Sharma's catch taken by Travis Head, and then Pat Cummins dismissing Virat Kohli, after which India's batting lineup crumbled. Travis Head went on to score a match-winning hundred, helping Australia lift their sixth ODI World Cup.
The entire nation watched Rohit walk back to the pavilion, eyes glistening with tears, after leading India through such a brilliant campaign. Those tears felt personal—as if everyone felt them.
The dream of watching my god lift an ODI World Cup remained just that—a dream.
A few days later, I remember standing outside the academy, tears streaming down as I watched countless emotional reels set to Bollywood songs. It felt like a quiet, shared grief none of us could escape.