The bell's echo hadn't even fully faded when the college grounds burst into life — a colorful, noisy sea of students flowing in all directions. The sun was gentler now, casting a golden glow that made everything feel like a scene from a youthful dream. Shruti walked quietly with her group, the soft clink of her silver anklet blending with the sounds of laughter, distant cricket balls hitting bats, and the occasional honk from the main road outside the gate.
The gentle breeze rustled through the gulmohar branches, making their shade dance over the faces of Shruti and her friends. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The campus that had felt huge and overwhelming in the morning now felt a little smaller. A little warmer.
Pragathi returned like a warrior queen, balancing samosas on one plate and gripping two soft drink bottles between her fingers. Her eyes shone with victory. "Mission accomplished! I almost lost a finger to the crowd at the counter, but for you, dear friends, I have fought bravely."
The girls clapped in mock applause as Pragathi plopped down beside Shruti, setting the feast before them. The spicy aroma of the samosas mixed with the fresh grass and the subtle floral scent drifting off some classmate's jasmine braid.
Shruti reached for a piece, but one of the girls — Sushma — grinned and intercepted. "Not so fast! First, answer the burning question." She wagged her samosa accusingly at Shruti. "Who. Is. The bava?"
Another girl, Divya, added, her voice full of mock suspense, "The tall, hot senior with that 'don't-mess-with-me' face?"
Shruti groaned lightly. "You've all built him up too much already!"
Pragathi fanned herself with a notebook. "Too much? Please. These girls don't know the half of it. Let me tell you what I just learned at the canteen. Straight from a senior girl who's apparently been hopelessly crushing on him since first year."
The girls leaned in like eager audiences at a campfire story.
"First day of his college life," Pragathi began, lowering her voice theatrically. "Seniors cornered this poor freshie girl. Proper ragging — making her sing, dance, threaten to cut her hair. She was crying. Arjun walked by. You'd think he'd call a faculty, right?"
"Or threaten to report them?" Sushma guessed.
"Nope," Pragathi said, shaking her head, eyes glinting. "He dragged those seniors away. And thrashed them. Not just a slap here or there. Real thrashing. Two of them ended up needing stitches."
Gasps spread through the group like ripples.
"No way!" Divya exclaimed. "And they didn't report him?"
"Who do you think he is? He's the topper. The principal loves him. Plus he took them down alone. Made it clear — you rag in front of him, you answer to him." Pragathi grinned. "Since then? No one messes with juniors in front of Arjun anna."
Another girl, Neha, pressed her palms together in fake prayer. "Strong, smart, looks like a Telugu hero… where do we file applications to get a bava like that?"
Sushma teased, nudging Shruti. "And you're just sitting here like, 'Oh yeah, that's my cousin.' I'd have a tattoo on my forehead announcing it to the world!"
Shruti bit into her samosa to hide her smile but couldn't stop the pink blooming on her cheeks. "What can I say? He's just… Arjun."
Divya shook her head dramatically. "So humble, ya! If it were me, I'd make him drop me every single day, parade him through campus like a trophy."
Pragathi snorted, sipping her cola. "Forget that. I'd make him carry my books. And my bag. And my emotional baggage."
Laughter bubbled up among them, easy and full of warmth.
"Imagine being protected by him during exams," Neha said dreamily. "You don't know an answer? Just look at him. He'll probably scare the invigilator into giving you marks."
Sushma leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "I bet even lecturers don't mess with him."
Shruti giggled, finally joining in the teasing. "Actually, he's terrified of my cooking. That's his weakness. I made Maggi once and he acted like I poisoned him."
Their circle burst into giggles.
"Oh my god, Shruti! How are you wasting such power? If I were you, I'd make him cook for me!" Divya said, clutching her stomach from laughing.
Pragathi added with a wink, "Careful, girls. Keep talking like this and Shruti might start charging membership fees for this fan club."
Shruti raised both hands in mock surrender. "Please! I didn't even do anything. You all have built him up like he's some mythical creature."
Neha grinned. "That's because he is, Shruti. The bava of dreams."
And in that soft afternoon sun, surrounded by new friends and warm laughter, Shruti felt the nervousness of the morning wash away — replaced by the light, thrilling buzz of belonging.
To be continued...