RT Nagar, Bangalore — 2018
The alarm buzzed at 6:30 AM, breaking the silence of the small bedroom. Mak groaned, his hand searching clumsily for the clock on the side table before pressing the button. The sound stopped, leaving behind the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the faint noises of the waking city outside.
The room was bigger than what he had back in Kalwadi, yet it always felt smaller in the mornings — maybe because it held too many things for two people. The twin beds were placed against opposite walls, a wooden study table sat near the window, and an old bookshelf leaned slightly in one corner. Faisal's clothes were piled up on a chair, and Mak's school bag rested neatly near the door.
Through the half-open window, the city was already stirring. The early morning chatter of RT Nagar filled the air — vendors calling out from the street, the distant honk of scooters.
Back in Kalwadi, mornings were quieter. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, glancing across the room. Faisal was still asleep, sprawled on his bed with one leg hanging off the side. His phone screen glowed faintly near the pillow, showing a half-played YouTube video.
Mak chuckled softly. He envied how easily Faisal could fall asleep, no matter the noise.
Mak slipped out of bed and went to wash up. The water was cold, and it jolted him fully awake. By the time he came out, the kitchen smelled of toast and tea.
Imran was already there, dressed sharply in a light-blue shirt and black trousers, his laptop bag resting on the table. His wristwatch gleamed as he checked the time.
"Morning, Mak," he said, his voice calm but brisk.
"Morning, bhaiya."
Imran nodded, pouring tea into a steel cup. "Got up on time today, I see."
Mak smiled faintly. "Trying to."
"Good," Imran said. "You'll need that discipline.
Mak grinned slightly but didn't reply. He poured himself a glass of water and sat at the table.
Imran took a bite of toast, checked his watch again, and sighed. "I'll be heading out. It's already past seven."
"You leave early every day," Mak said.
"I have to," Imran replied, adjusting his collar. "It takes almost an hour to reach the office. That's Bangalore for you — half your life's spent on the road."
Mak nodded quietly, watching as Imran slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his bike keys.
"If you two need anything, the shop downstairs will have it. And Mak, don't skip breakfast."
"I won't," Mak said.
Imran smiled, a brief flicker of warmth before he opened the door. "Alright then, see you both tonight."
The sound of the door closing echoed for a moment, and then the apartment settled into a calmer rhythm again.
Mak turned back toward the kitchen — only to find Faisal standing there now, hair messy, yawning wide.
"You're up," Faisal muttered sleepily, scratching his head. "Too early, man."
Mak smirked. "It's already 7:20."
"So?" Faisal said, walking toward the stove. "I've got a free first period today. Finally, a day I can have breakfast without rushing."
He opened the bread packet and started toasting slices, humming an old Bollywood tune under his breath.
Mak sat across from him, watching the steam rise from the kettle. "Imran bhaiya already left."
"Of course he did," Faisal said. "He leaves before the traffic wakes up."
They both laughed lightly.
Faisal dropped two slices of toast on Mak's plate. "Eat up, little cousin. You'll need energy to survive all those lectures."
Mak smiled, biting into the toast. It was crisp, buttery, and slightly burnt on the edges. Not bad.
"So," Faisal said, leaning back in his chair, "how's is this place treating you? Settled in yet?"
"Kind of," Mak said thoughtfully. "It's different from our hometown.
"That's normal. You'll fit in soon. Just give it a bit of time."
Mak nodded. "I like the playground, though. It's huge."
"Oh, that," Faisal said, grinning. "It's like a stadium. You should join some sports club or something."
"I might," Mak said, trying to sound casual.
Faisal raised an eyebrow. "Cricket, right?"
Mak looked down at his plate. "Maybe."
Faisal smiled knowingly. "I had heard from your sister that you play cricket. I bet you've hit a few sixes back home, huh?"
Mak laughed softly. "Something like that."
They both shared a quiet moment — a faint bridge between the calm of Kalwadi and the buzz of Bangalore.
When the clock on the wall showed 8:00, Mak stood up. "I should go."
"School starts at 8:30, right?" Faisal asked.
"Yeah, but it takes about twenty minutes to walk there."
"Alright, wait," Faisal said, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and tossing it to him. "For the road. Don't say I don't take care of you."
Mak caught it with a grin. "Thanks."
He slung his bag over his shoulder, checked that his lunchbox was packed, and headed toward the door.
"Hey, Mak," Faisal called out as Mak put on his shoes. "You're doing good, you know. Imran won't say it, but he's happy you're here."
Mak paused for a second, then smiled. "I'm happy too."
"Go on then. Don't be late!" Faisal said, waving as Mak stepped out.
The morning air greeted him with a soft chill. The streets of RT Nagar were waking up properly now — school buses honking, shopkeepers pulling up shutters, and the smell of filter coffee wafting from every direction.
He began walking toward school.
The lane curved past a small bakery, a row of apartments, and a roadside stall selling idlis and vadas. He could hear people chatting, laughing, arguing about the price of onions — the usual city music.
Mak liked walking. It gave him time to think — about his mother back in Kalwadi, about Ava and her loud laughter, about his father somewhere far away. He wondered what they were doing now. Probably finishing breakfast, maybe talking about him.
He took a deep breath, smiling faintly.
Bangalore was different, but it wasn't bad. It was just new — and maybe, that was what he needed.
The gates of St. Xavier's High School came into view soon, tall and white, gleaming faintly under the sun. A group of students walked ahead, chatting loudly, their blue uniforms bright and pressed.
Mak followed quietly, his steps matching theirs.
A cricket ball rolled across the path suddenly, stopping near his foot. He bent down, picked it up, and looked around.
A senior boy came running from the practice nets, waving. "Hey, can you toss that here?"
Mak threw the ball with an easy, clean motion — straight and fast. The boy caught it and grinned. "Nice arm, kid!"
Mak smiled back, saying nothing.
He turned toward the school building, feeling something stir faintly inside him — a familiar pulse he hadn't felt since leaving Kalwadi.
Maybe Bangalore wasn't just a new chapter. Maybe it was a chance to start something he didn't even know he wanted yet.
And as he walked toward the entrance, the faint echo of a cricket bat hitting a ball came again from the nets behind the field — a sound that made him look back for just a moment longer.