The evening breeze brushes softly against my face as I lean on the compound wall, Karthik beside me, idly tossing a small stone in his hand.
Karthik has been my closest friend since childhood. His father works as a daily wage laborer at construction sites, hauling bricks under the blazing sun, while his mother bends over paddy fields from dawn to dusk. Money is always tight in their household, yet Karthik carries himself with a quiet, unshakable strength.
"So," he asks, squinting at me, "have you finally decided which group you're going to take—Accounts or Science?"
I sigh, kicking at the dust. "I wanted to take Accounts. But my mom wants me to go for Science. Dad says it doesn't matter, since I'll end up taking care of our farms anyway."
Karthik looks puzzled. "We'll go tomorrow to get the application form. Decide soon—school reopens in just ten days."
Before I can reply, the deep roar of a Royal Enfield bike breaks the quiet. I turn, and there they are—my two uncles. Their presence always changes the air, making it heavier, as if authority itself has arrived.
Karthik stays by my side, still flipping the stone in his hand, when the shadow of my elder uncle falls across us. His smile is gone; his voice is sharp.
"Karthik," he snaps, waving his hand dismissively. "Go home. You have work to do. Don't waste time loitering here."
Karthik hesitates, glancing at me. His jaw tightens, but he says nothing. He simply lets the stone fall, gives me a small nod, and walks away.
As soon as he's gone, my uncle turns on me, his voice cracking like a whip.
"How many times have I told you not to hang out with him? Don't be friends with everyone. Know your roots. What will you gain from keeping company with people like that?"
Before I can respond, he strides inside to speak with my father and mother.
Murugesan—my elder uncle—is the second of my mother's brothers. He runs his own business in town and believes status is the only true measure of a man. People speak of him with admiration and respect, but to me, his presence feels oppressive. Suffocating.
His voice still echoes in my ears as I sit on the verandah—the scorn, the way he drove Karthik away—it all presses down on me like a weight I can't shake off.
That's when my younger uncle appears, a folded sheet of paper in his hand. His footsteps are lighter. His presence feels different.
Sundaram, my mother's fourth brother, is nothing like Murugesan. A government school teacher, progressive in his thinking, he often challenges the rigid ideas the rest of the family clings to. His voice carries guidance—steady, calm, thoughtful.
"Mani," he calls gently, crouching beside me. "Why are you sitting here like the whole world has ended?"
I look up, forcing a weak smile. "Because it feels like it has."
He chuckles, pressing the paper into my hand. "Here—your school application. It's filled out and ready, except for the group. I left that part for you to decide."
"You did this for me?"
"Of course," he says warmly, then rises and walks into the house.
I sit at the dining table, the admission form spread out before me, my pen hovering over the "Course Preference" column. I've decided on Accounts. Everyone is at the table—Dad, Mom, my two uncles, and me.
"I'll take Accounts," I say quietly.
Before I can write it down, Sundaram clears his throat. "Accounts?" He leans forward. "Mani, do you like Accounts that much? Are you planning to become a chartered accountant or something?"
I look up, uneasy. "No, Uncle... It's just that compared to Science, Accounts seems easier. So I thought I'd go with that."
He shakes his head. "You have to think about your future. You can't pick a course just because it feels easy. What if it turns out to be tough too? What then?"
Dad cuts in. "Why are you pushing him, Sundaram? He's going to take over the family's work anyway. Let him choose Accounts."
But Sundaram is calm and insistent. "You don't understand, brother-in-law. Children don't always know what's best for them. He'll thank me later."
My elder uncle waves it off. "Let the boy choose what he wants. Does it really matter what course he picks?"
Sundaram tries to reason with both of them. He's the only one in the family who completed post-graduation. He made sure my mother earned at least one degree. None of his elder brothers went to college. He even insisted that anyone who wanted to marry his sister must hold a degree.
Mom ends the debate. "You're both spoiling him." Her loyalty is clear—she sides with her younger brother. Then she adds, "He'll have more opportunities if he chooses Science. Let him take Science—we'll talk more about it when he joins college."
And just like that, it's decided. When Mom makes a decision, the conversation is over.
To sweeten the deal, she and Sundaram promise to buy me a personal PC—if I choose Science and get good marks.
A personal PC in 2012? Who says no to that?
So I write "Science" on the application form—even though Chemistry terrifies me. Sundaram and Mom look satisfied.
The next day, I submit the form at school. There, I run into Karthik, who's come for his application.
"Hey, Karthik," I say, "I'm really sorry about what my uncle said yesterday."
He shrugs, smiling like it doesn't matter. "No problem, Mani. I'm used to these kinds of things."
He's chosen Science too. That means a few more years of our friendship, at least.
School begins a week later. New faces fill the classrooms. Some of my old classmates are gone.
The first ten days pass in a blur: eat, sleep, school, cricket, repeat.
One evening, as the school bell rings and I step through the crowded gate, my eyes find her. She's walking ahead, sunlight catching in her hair, her laughter drifting gently on the breeze.
I don't say a word—nothing escapes my lips—but in that instant, something stirs within me. A quiet spark. And just like that, the noise of the world fades into silence.
For the first time, it feels like a single moment could stretch into forever.