Chapter 3 – Part 1: The Road to the Night
Sunday rolled in lazy and bright. The hostel buzzed with the sound of boys adjusting to their new lives—some on phone calls with families, others sprawled on beds, the faint smell of Maggi noodles drifting from a few rooms. But for Arjun Rathore and his newly formed circle, today wasn't about calls or cheap noodles.
It was about the night.
By evening, the sun dipped low, pouring golden light over the red-brick walls of the campus. Arjun, leaning against his car parked at the hostel gate, tapped the roof with casual impatience. "Come on, princes of Bharat. At this rate, the party will be over before we reach the city."
Raghav Chauhan emerged first, wearing a plain checked shirt and jeans, as simple as ever. He looked at Arjun's dark fitted jacket and smirked. "You're going to a fashion show, not a pub."
Arjun shrugged. "Life's a runway, brother. You'll get it one day."
Behind him, Sameer Verma bounded out like an untamed puppy, hair gelled messily, half-sprayed with deodorant. "Brooo! Tonight, the city won't forget me!"
Vikram Solanki followed, arms folded, wearing a crisp polo shirt tucked into neat trousers. "Try not to embarrass us," he muttered.
"Embarrass?" Sameer gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. "I am the party, Solanki!"
Kabir Malhotra and Imran Sheikh arrived last. Kabir wore a smug grin, a silver chain glinting under his casual open shirt. "Alright boys, let's make this hostel proud."
Imran, as always, remained understated—black shirt, dark jeans, and that same calm, observant gaze. He simply nodded at Arjun. "We ready?"
"Now we are," Arjun said, sliding into the driver's seat.
The others piled in—Sameer fighting for shotgun, Raghav winning by sheer seniority of friendship. The car roared to life, and with a grin stretching across his face, Arjun steered them out of the university gates into the glowing streets beyond.
---
The road into the city was alive. Streetlights flickered, shops buzzed with customers, the air heavy with the smell of roasted corn and spicy chaat from roadside stalls. Music leaked from cafes, mingling with the honking horns of auto-rickshaws weaving recklessly.
Inside the car, the boys were no less chaotic.
Sameer had already taken charge of the Bluetooth, blasting a Bollywood dance number. "THIS is how you start the night!" he shouted, fist pumping.
Vikram groaned. "Turn that nonsense down before my ears bleed."
"Don't listen to him!" Sameer yelled over the music. "He's one heartbreak away from dancing on tables too!"
Arjun smirked, eyes on the road. "Tables, huh? Let's save that for later."
Kabir leaned forward from the back seat, his voice smooth. "So, Rathore, you sure this place you're dragging us to is worth it?"
Arjun's grin widened. "Trust me. I've got an old contact in the city—told me about this pub. Music, food, the right crowd. No cheap student bar. A proper place."
Raghav raised an eyebrow. "Old contact? Since when do you have contacts here?"
"Since always," Arjun replied vaguely, refusing to elaborate. He liked keeping that air of mystery.
The headlights cut through the dimly lit road as they left the bustling market behind and entered the heart of the city. Neon signs began appearing, glowing blues and reds against the night sky. The energy shifted—louder, faster, alive.
Imran, watching quietly from his corner, finally spoke. "This isn't hostel life anymore. This—" he gestured outside the window, at the glowing chaos of the city, "—this is the real test. Out here, everyone's trying to make a mark."
Arjun glanced at him in the mirror, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "And we will."
---
Traffic thickened as they approached the nightlife district. Flashy cars lined the roads, bikes zoomed past, couples walked arm in arm, laughter echoing from brightly lit restaurants. The boys leaned forward, peering out the windows like children seeing a carnival for the first time.
"There it is," Arjun said finally, pointing.
At the corner stood the pub: The Iron Lotus. A modern building with a wide glass façade, neon lotus glowing above the entrance. Music pulsed from inside, bass deep enough to feel through the car's steering wheel.
Sameer practically vibrated with excitement. "OH. MY. GOD. Look at that line! Look at those girls!"
Vikram exhaled slowly, steadying himself like a soldier about to march into battle. "This… this is madness."
Kabir smirked. "Madness? No. This is freedom, brother."
They pulled up near the entrance. Arjun parked with ease, stepping out first. He stretched, straightened his jacket, and glanced at the glowing sign above the door. "Boys," he said, turning back with that daring grin, "welcome to the beginning of our university life."
Raghav chuckled. "If this is the beginning, I'm scared to see the middle."
"Relax," Arjun clapped his shoulder. "You'll thank me tomorrow."
As they walked toward the entrance, the doorman's eyes flicked over them. Six fresh faces, clearly new, but carrying different energies—Arjun's fearless stride, Raghav's calm presence, Sameer's chaotic energy, Vikram's rigid discipline, Kabir's smooth confidence, Imran's silent depth.
Together, they didn't just look like six students. They looked like something forming, something with weight.
And as the bass from inside thumped louder with each step, Arjun knew one thing for certain: this night wouldn't just be about music or drinks. No. This night would test them—reveal who they truly were when the world outside the gates of their campus beckoned.
The Iron Lotus awaited.