I am a third-semester B.E. student in Chennai. My CGPA is 8.3. I study differently — I don't study at night; I wake up early and study before exams. I explain doubts to whoever comes and asks, but otherwise I don't interact much. I don't use bad words; at most I say small, soft scoldings. Since childhood I was fair, but Chennai's heat made me a little darker; a bit of darkness sits under my eyes now. I'm average-looking. My handwriting is terrible. I think fast; I write slowly.I like Lord Hanuman.
I remember one coding test: five programs. I solved three correctly. Time was about to finish, so I read the testcases, typed three lines of code for another program and most testcases passed. That's me — I figure the idea and sometimes patch code in the last minute. I do some timepass too. I love moths. I watch a lot of movies. For exams I always listen to songs.
There is a girl — the heroine — studying Intermediate 1st year in a college near Rajahmundry, the same native village I'm from. I don't know her name or the name of her village. She is very beautiful. Her smile can stop a breath. She's a topper. Her handwriting is neat. She always wears a bhottu (sindhooram) on her forehead. I don't know how she thinks; her point of view is unknown to me.
One day, during my semester holidays, my tatayya (grandfather) came and asked me to go teach at the intermediate college.
"Why me?" I asked, shocked.
He told me calmly: "I was principal there before retirement. If you go and interact with students, it will help with placements. You know maths well — go, it will be good."
I agreed. I only wanted to teach half days.
🎬 FIRST DAY – THE INTRODUCTION
I went to the college and was placed with 1B maths subject. 1B madam told me I had to be ready for the second period. I prepared in ten minutes and sat on the bench outside the class block. A last-bencher came up and asked casually, "Are you A or B?" He thought I was a student. I said, "B" as I'm thinking he asking which subject.
A new chemistry sir sat near me and thought I was a student too. He asked, "Why are you sitting outside?I said, "I'm a teacher", Where did you do your M.Sc?" I said, "Sir, I'm a B.E. second-year student." He asked if I had failed. I smiled and said no, then mentioned tatayya details. He started preparing chemistry formulas quietly.
During second period the principal introduced me. I had joined in December, so the syllabus was mostly finished; I only had to teach a few topics from the last chapter. The last bencher who asked my section earlier looked shocked when I introduced myself. I taught quietly, my voice low. I'm so nervous while I'm teaching.
🎬 FIRST BREAK – FIRST MEETING
During the first break she came — the girl with the sindhooram. She walked up and said, "You taught well, but your voice is low." She seemed like she wanted to ask my name but she didn't. I didn't respond with much — I didn't notice her face fully; I only noticed the bhottu on her forehead. Another girl came, asked the same thing and also asked my name. Biology madam told me I taught well. For the next two or three days I taught normally.
My style was direct: I show steps plainly. If someone didn't understand, I would show it in simpler steps. Each time I finished a sum, I asked, "Ardhamayinda?"(is it understand).
One day she said, "Sir, some people won't understand if you give direct steps.",then I explained even simple steps.
🎬 THE DAY EVERYTHING CHANGED
On day four I asked everyone to try sums. They all did well. She was first to answer — again I didn't look at her properly. Two more sums passed. For next sum, she answered again; I said it was wrong. Girl1 and Girl2 repeated the same answer, and I still said it was wrong. Later, I watched carefully and realized she had solved it by a different method and she was correct. I walked over and said, "Sorry." I don't apologize to anyone — except my mother. She said, "No problem, sir." That moment something in me shifted; a tiny, unfamiliar feeling.
🎬 HAIR INCIDENT & STUDENT MOMENTS
Day five, the madam checked homework — 70% hadn't written it. she had written. Madam scolded the class; madam start beating boys, boys had long hair. When a boy was scolded, he shouted back at madam. Parents arrived. I covered my face with my hand and quietly laughed — it reminded me of a similar thing with my friend back at my college. Madam ordered everyone to get haircuts the next day. The next day almost all boys were absent.
Girl1 told me plainly, "You don't look like a teacher, sir; you look like a student." I answered, "I am a student," and told them about my college. Girl1 said she would join the college beside ours and that she'd meet me there.
On that same day, heroine came late. At the middle of period, heroine asked Girl2 to ask me about my Inter marks. Girl2 told me that the girl was asking for my marks; heroine hide her face and smiled. I told the class my marks: 452/470, 948/1000. Everyone reacted in shock.
🎬 SMALL MOMENTS THAT MEANT EVERYTHING
One morning I came early and walked on the ground. A group of girls, including heroine, were walking too. They all greeted me, "Good morning sir," but heroine did not say anything.
In class I found a small iron chain piece on the floor in which the girls where to their feet. I picked it up and handed it to heroine asking, "Is this yours?" She took it and asked, directly (without saying sir), "Where is it?" I answered casually, "If it's not yours give it to the next person.", For the first time She never called me sir that time.
After class I sat in the staff room routinely and left for home at lunch. One day I started a new topic; Girl2 asked if it was easy and I said it was easier than the last topic. After a few days heroine said quickly, "Ala kaatha," — again not calling me sir. Several times she called doubts but sometimes she did not use "sir." Those moments didn't make sense to me then.
Syllabus finished, and the principal scheduled daily tests. The toppers like heroine did normal. Others practiced alot. Heroine often finished first and showed her paper fast, always with her head bent over the paper, she don't see into my eyes. On one of those tests Girl2's answer was similar to heroine's but had a mistake;on topic which I recently teached, I checked and corrected it using heroine's correct method.
Once she slipped near a plank and almost collided; I thought our heads would hit. She corrected herself fast and didn't fall. Another day, some boy asked, "How long do you prepare for exams?" I smiled and said, "Five minutes is enough." The boy gave me a question; I looked and wrote an answer instantly. The boys were shocked. I don't check the students' books without reason — I only help when asked.
At times heroine, who had been very active, began to look a little bored. One day she even fell asleep in class. I joked, "This girl is not interested; should we stop the class?" She looked up and said, "No sir, continue." Even then, I never tried to intentionally stare at her. I was more likely to glance at other students.
🎬 MATHS DAY – THE MOST PAINFUL DAY
Maths Day was my last day. Usually I only came in the morning, but that day I stayed the whole afternoon. Students walked into the hall for the event; I walked in hoping to see her. She wasn't there. Everyone wished me "Happy Maths Day sir," but I kept searching the crowd for her. Teachers made speeches, songs were played, there was dancing, cake cutting. The principal honored the maths faculty and even called my name — I refused to get on stage. I had only come to pass the time in teaching; I didn't want a ceremony.
After the program I checked the buses, hoping she might be in one, but I didn't see her. Some boys and Girl1 waved and said bye from a bus window. My holidays were over. I boarded the train.
🎬 TRAIN JOURNEY – THE DAWN OF FEELING
Usually on trains I eat pulihora, but that day I couldn't eat. I'm thinking about the first day, that the Pushpa 2 had released; perhaps that was why I missed her the first day. On the 14-hour journey, movie love scenes and soft melodies filled me with strange feelings. I started calling her in my head "Ammi". I reached Chennai, while I'm brushing and bathing in thought — all memories of her chased me.
🎬 FIVE MONTHS WITHOUT HER
Back at my hostel and college, every time I closed my eyes something of her would flash. I smiled without knowing why; friends asked why and I only smiled more. I used to wash clothes twice a week; suddenly I found myself washing for an hour while listening to love songs. I began to put a bhottu like hers on my forehead , but I smiled when I did. I used to listen to songs only during exams, but now songs were daily. My favorite became the song "Oy Oy" from the movie Oy; the lyrics connected strangely to the feeling. Every night I fell asleep thinking about her.
Pongal came; I went home. I went to temples, exhibitions — everywhere I looked for her but didn't find her. Once I saw Girl2 and once some boys who said bye. Months passed. Slowly the image of her face slipped away. daily some one's parts mixing with her face. After five months I only remembered her hair and the bhottu. Tiny fragments of her reappeared sometimes — a flash of eyes or nose for a fraction of a second — but never a whole face.
🎬 SECOND RETURN – AND THE EMPTY SEAT
A month later I went back to the intermediate college again thinking, "I will see her when she starts her second year." I went to her block. Only eight girls and two boys had come that day. she is not came. The students were excited and said, "Hi sir." I didn't teach; it was the first day. I sat with the boys.
Day two: she didn't come. I felt a hollow. Day three: still nothing. I checked the Hindu panchangam, because my mother will always see it and do it; day four was auspicious. Maybe her mother checks it like my mother. Day four passed; no heroine. More students came and boys became friendlier. On day three there had been a first-year girl's birthday and she gave sweets to the teacher who is teaching but not to me — because I sat with the boys — and from then the boys teased me, saying, "You are like us sir." I liked that silly equality.
I checked the dates again and realized Friday (day five) was better than the earlier days. Day five came — still no heroine. Then I known Monday would be a holiday — the founder's death anniversary — so my time there was shrinking. My college would reopen after a week and I had to buy things. I counted: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday — just three days left. Day six, Tuesday: no heroine. We sat and chatted with boys— names, where we were born, aims, favorite movies. A few boys said, "We don't watch movies, sir. Only anime. Naruto.".at night My mother told me, "We are going to Annavaram(temple) on Thursday." I felt panic — that left me only one day.
Day seven: still no heroine. My feelings mixed into confusion. Some boys asked for my number. I didn't want to shout it out, so I wrote an equation on one boy's notebook instead:
(x+2)(x−3)(x−2)(x−5)(x)(x)(x−2)(x)(x)(x) .boys shocked and asked "how to find it sir", I said "use common sense". They asked for a photo; I said maybe next time.
That night my mother told me, "Tomorrow afternoon go and give Annavaram prasadam to the principal and tell him if possible that you will come again in your next semester holidays." I could go home by afternoon. So I dared to think maybe I would see her. The next day I went to give the prasadam. The principal wasn't there; I gave it to another teacher. I didn't see the heroine — her class block was in another building.
Two days later I caught a train to return to Chennai on Sunday. I told myself, "I will come again after my fifth semester."
🎬 THE FINAL FEELING
I'm thinking, Why did I fall for her? Maybe because she acted like me — she asked doubts like I did, she was direct, she behaved similarly. Maybe that similarity drew me. Months passed and I tried to hold her face in my mind and failed; I remembered everyone else, but not her. Sometimes I'd get a flash — an eye, a nose, a lip — but never the complete face. Often I smiled at my reflection wearing a bhottu like hers, and the smile came from somewhere my brain couldn't explain.
Now her college reopens again in ten days. I have to decide: what should I do when I go back? How should I behave? Will I be the same — stand like I always do, ask, "Ardhamayinda?" — or will the moment finally arrive when her face locks into my memory and I speak properly?And I ask myself:
"When I go again… what should I do?"