The next morning hit me like a frying pan thrown by fate itself. My alarm rang at 7 AM, and I swear I felt my soul leaving my body like, "Nope. Not again. Not this degree." For a full minute, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering which past life sin I was paying for to end up pursuing BSc. The regret was so strong, I could physically feel my ancestors judging me.
I threw an arm over my eyes. "Why, Misha... why did you choose this? Why didn't you run off to the mountains to sell momos? Why didn't you become a professional sleeper? Why didn't you fake your death and restart life as someone whose degree actually makes sense?"
I should've taken arts and become a poet. Or a dancer. Or, like... a rock. Anything else.
My brain gave me a dramatic monologue in a deep baritone voice:
"You chose this fate. Now suffer."
I sat up like a ghost resurrecting from the afterlife.
"I'm not emotionally, mentally, physically, financially, spiritually, economically, geographically, or astrologically ready for this."
I groaned loudly into my pillow. "I DON'T WANT TO SUFFER."
My mom peeked into my room, looking completely unimpressed with my overacting.
"It's literally just the first day," she said, leaning against the door like she'd seen this drama a hundred times already.
"It's my LAST day," I corrected dramatically, sitting up like a Victorian child recovering from illness.
She rolled her eyes. "Stop talking nonsense and get ready."
"Let me die," I muttered into my blanket, hoping she'd feel even 1% sympathy.
But no. She just turned around and walked off like she hadn't just ignored my very reasonable request for a peaceful death.
"You have five minutes," she said over her shoulder, already done with my existence.
I peeled myself off the bed, dragged my half-dead corpse to the bathroom, and stared into the mirror like a heroine in a tragic movie. My eyes screamed "unpaid intern at life", my hair looked like it was holding a protest, and my face had the expression of someone who had seen the end of the world.
I finally got dressed in the most "I hate life" outfit possible — baggy jeans, oversized T-shirt, hair not even properly brushed — the perfect representation of a student starting a new semester against her will.
"Perfect," I told my reflection. "Now you look like a well-lit corpse.."
Somehow, by the grace of sprite, I got ready, grabbed my bag, and stepped out of the house like a zombie with hopes of survival.
When I stepped out of my building, the sun was shining like it was mocking me. The birds were chirping like they were celebrating my downfall. Even the wind felt like it was whispering, "LOL good luck, loser."
By the time I reached college, I had already regretted all life decisions that led me to this moment. I stood in front of the college gate like a widow staring at her dead husband's portrait.
When I finally reached the college gate, I stood there like a soldier returning to a battlefield. Students were running around, chattering, laughing, looking alive. And then there was me—dragging myself inside like expired bread.
A rickshaw driver passing by looked at me like I needed psychiatric help. He glanced at me once, saw my dead-inside expression, and quietly increased the volume of his devotional songs. Honestly? Valid, he wasn't wrong.
The moment I stepped in, "Behold," I whispered with tragic flair, "the graveyard of my hopes and dreams."
Now, the important mission: find my fellow chaotic gremlins.
I scanned the campus dramatically, half squinting like a detective in slow-motion. And then—
Chaos detonated.
From across the ground, I heard a blood-curdling scream.
"MISSHHHHAAA! OH MY GOD, SHE'S ALIVE!"
Rohan came sprinting at me like possessed banshee, specifically trained in Olympic running. His arms were flailing, his bag was half falling off, and his face was pure chaos. Students literally stepped aside like he was a natural disaster approaching.
Before I could respond, Nandini came running behind him like a Bollywood mom whose child had returned after a 20-year time leap.
She threw her arms around me dramatically. "MY BABYYYY! WHERE WERE YOU?! WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME FOR THREE HOURS?! ARE WE NOT IMPORTANT TO YOU ANYMORE?!"
I suffocated in her chokehold. "I WAS LITERALLY GONE FOR TWO WEEKS, CALM DOWN—"
"TWO WEEKS TOO LONG!" she cried loudly enough for the entire campus to hear.
Anushka marched behind them, hips swinging with pure attitude, dragging Harsh by his bag strap. "Why are you walking like a dehydrated penguin? WALK PROPERLY, YOU USELESS HUMAN!" she snapped.
"I AM WALKING!" Harsh whined, pretending to be tortured.
Harsh clutched his chest dramatically. "And stop verbally abusing me! I'm a sensitive soul!"
"No, you're a moron," she said.
Saumya followed them calmly, shoulders relaxed, walking like a duckling who had accepted that she didn't belong to Earth. She waved at me like some peaceful alien observing human chaos. "Hi Misha," she said softly.
And then, from behind them all, Daksh appeared—hands in pockets, walking like he was too cool for this entire circus. He glanced at me once, nodded, and said, "Yo."
He absolutely pretended he didn't know these clowns.
Together, they looked like a mobile disaster unit.
And they were sprinting at me.
Students had stopped walking. Some were staring. Some were confused. Some looked concerned. One girl whispered, "Who are these people?" Another replied, "They look homeless." Warm welcome. Amazing.
Before I could blink, Rohan tackled me in a hug that nearly dislocated my spine. "YOU FORGOT US!" he howled.
"I WAS GONE FOR TWO WEEKS!"
"That's enough to abandon us emotionally!" he wailed.
Nandini grabbed my face dramatically. "WHY DID YOU LEAVE US? WE WERE DYING."
"You literally sent me memes every day," I protested.
"That's not THE POINT."
Anushka pushed them aside. "Move, idiots." She hugged me tightly. "We missed you... but don't expect me to cry."
Harsh sniffed loudly. "I almost cried."
"No, you didn't," Anushka snapped.
"I DID, ANUSHKA. Let me have one emotional moment—"
"NO."
Saumya stepped forward, hugged me gently, and whispered, "Welcome back to the madhouse."
Meanwhile, Daksh finally reached us, completely ignoring the group chaos. He tucked his hair behind his ear and gave me a calm nod. "Hey. Good trip?"
"Yes," I answered, still being crushed by Rohan and Nandini.
"Cool," he said.
That was Daksh. Zero drama. 100% chill. In a group of circus animals, he was the only one who had come house-trained.
Bless that man's existence.
But the circus wasn't done.
Rohan began fake crying loudly. "SHE MADE NEW FRIENDS! SHE FORGOT US!"
Nandini followed dramatically. "SHE DOESN'T LOVE US ANYMORE!"
Harsh threw his hands up. "Bro, chill, she literally just—"
"DON'T DEFEND HER!" Rohan shouted.
People passing by stared like we were filming some weird emotional reality show.
I tried to escape but Nandini grabbed my hand. "Tell us everything. NOW."
They dragged me to the courtyard like I was being interrogated for a crime. They surrounded me in a circle like some weird cult meeting. Everyone yelled questions at the same time.
"What did you eat?"
"Did you fall?"
"Did you meet weird people?"
"Did you see any dogs?"
"Did you bathe daily?"
"Did you think about us?"
"Did you flirt with anyone?"
"Did you remember we exist?"
I rubbed my face. "PLEASE. ONE QUESTION AT A TIME."
"No," they all replied.
It was pure chaos, loud enough to echo through the whole campus. Honestly? I missed this. I missed my idiots.
The chaos did not stop. We walked inside the building like the most uncoordinated flashmob ever created. Rohan kept tripping. Harsh kept complaining. Nandini kept screaming. Anushka kept scolding. Saumya kept drifting away like a confused cloud. Daksh kept pretending we didn't exist.
Students watched us enter the classroom like they were witnessing natural disasters.
The moment we entered the classroom, reality slapped us across the face. Hard.
The professor droned on about some ultra-scientific concept that my brain rejected the moment it tried entering. On my left, Rohan was already halfway to dreamland, blinking like he was fighting gravity. On the other side, Harsh struggled with a biscuit packet, the plastic crackling loud enough to wake the dead. Anushka shot him a death glare.
"If you make one more sound," she hissed, "I will break your teeth with those biscuits."
Harsh froze instantly, hands mid-air, like someone had pressed his pause button.
Nandini, at least, was pretending to take notes. Except her notebook was filled with hearts, stars, and one suspiciously well-drawn cartoon of the professor. She leaned toward me and whispered, "Misha, I'm losing IQ."
"You didn't have much to start with," I whispered back without looking up. She kicked my foot in response.
Saumya, sitting in perfect posture like a confused owl, blinked slowly and whispered, "What subject is this?"
"No one knows," Daksh muttered from behind her, sounding betrayed by the education system.
Suddenly, the professor turned around with the speed of a malfunctioning CCTV camera. "Is there a problem?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
All of us shook our heads so aggressively it looked like a synchronized group seizure.
"Continue, sir," Rohan said sweetly—while still half asleep.
I took notes for exactly five minutes before giving up on life.
Every hour felt like 7 years. Every lecture felt like a punishment from the universe.
We walked out together, laughing, ran to the canteen like starving prisoners—survivors of another mentally torturous lecture. Little did I know, the real chaos of the day hadn't even begun.
Trays clattered, people shouted orders, and my group behaved like we hadn't seen food in fourteen years.
Rohan was the worst. He attacked his plate like it was the final feast before an apocalypse. "Guys, I swear I haven't eaten since... the Stone Age," he mumbled with his mouth full.
Nandini spotted an extra pav on the counter and lunged for it so dramatically she nearly slipped. "MINE!" she yelled, grabbing it like a wild hunter securing prey.
Saumya, in complete contrast, sat at the table peacefully, eating her dosa like a calm monk meditating in a war zone. She didn't even react to the chaos around her.
Anushka, without blinking, reached over and stole Harsh's sandwich while maintaining full eye contact with him. Harsh froze. "Did you— DID YOU JUST—" he yelled.
"Yes," she said calmly, taking a bite.
The betrayal echoed through the canteen. Harsh immediately pointed at me. "Misha! She stole my sandwich!"
Before I could reply, he stole half of Daksh's fries.
Daksh gave him a deadpan look.
"It's a survival instinct," he said defensively.
And me? I stared at my samosa, devastated. "Why is this 80% potato and 20% disappointment?" I whispered.
Daksh leaned over to inspect it. "That's a good ratio. Usually it's 95% disappointment."
I sighed. "I'm being robbed emotionally, financially, and culinarily."
Everyone burst into laughter while I mourned my sad samosa like it was a lost dream.
The day continued with us being clowns, regretting our degree, roasting each other, and plotting how to bunk the next week.
By the time I finally reached home, my feet were dead, my brain was overcooked, and my soul was floating above my head whispering, "Drop out... drop out..."
I threw my bag onto the bed and collapsed like a dead plant. My limbs spread out dramatically, and I let out the kind of noise that perfectly captured the trauma of lectures, the stupidity of my friends, and the overall mental damage of being a BSc student.
"Why... why did I choose science?" I groaned into my Puchku. But Puchku offered no sympathy.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, letting my brain reboot itself. And in between all that exhaustion, all that chaos, all that complaining...
Yeah.
Aarav crossed my mind.
Not in a dramatic way.
Not in some filmy "oh my god do I like him?" way.
No butterflies.
No heart flutters.
Just... a passing thought.
I blinked at the ceiling. "Wow. That was weirdly normal."
The city noises outside drifted into my room — cars honking, kids screaming, someone yelling at their husband for not buying coriander. The typical Mumbai soundtrack. Somehow, it grounded me. It felt like the city wrapped its messy arms around me and said, "Welcome back, clown."
I sat up slowly.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to feel anything intense.
Maybe Bhavnagar — the laughter, the late nights, the dumb UNO fights, the random feelings — all of it was just... atmosphere. A phase. A temporary glitch in my emotional Wi-Fi.
Maybe Aarav was just a fleeting cloud.
A soft distraction.
A spark that appeared for a moment and left quietly.
And honestly... I was fine with that.
I pulled out my notebook because sadly, life and assignments refuse to understand emotional arcs. As I flipped pages and started writing, I felt something loosen inside me. Like a knot finally unclenching. Like my brain going, "Okay drama queen, take a breath."
I even smiled to myself — just a tiny, tired smile.
The kind you get when life feels familiar again.
"Chaos suits me," I muttered under my breath, stretching my arms.
At some point, my mom peeked into the room.
"Done sulking?" she asked.
"I wasn't sulking," I said. "I was... reflecting."
She snorted. "Same thing."
I threw a pen at her. "Get out."
She left laughing, and for the first time in days, the sound didn't annoy me. I closed my notebook, leaned back in my chair, and let my eyes drift shut—my mind finally felt still.
Not overthinking.
Not dramatic.
Just... peaceful.
For the first time in days... I felt grounded. And that, surprisingly, was enough.
And with that final thought, I let the day fade out.
Tomorrow, the circus would start again.
And I'd be front row as always.