Hi… how was your day?
Let's continue.
Second period—English class.
Let me tell you something before the story moves forward, otherwise you'll get confused later. My mom's mother tongue is Marathi. She belongs to a Marathi family from Maharashtra, while my dad is from Mandya, Bangalore. So technically, Kannada is in my blood too. And I'm telling you this now because later, you'll see how languages, people, and feelings all mix in my life.
Also, about me and my sister—we are not like typical sisters who fight over everything. No, we fight over the most useless things. Like pointing at a star and arguing, "That one is mine!" "No, that one is mine!" Those kinds of fights.
But when it comes to real life… we are each other's strongest support.
If my mom scolds my sister, I stand by her. If I get scolded, my sister understands me without even asking. I don't share everything with my mom, but I share almost everything with my sister. And the best part? No matter how much we fight, no matter how angry we get, the secrets we share… never go outside.
Anyway, enough about me. Let's go back to the class.
English class.
For some students, it's the happiest period.
For some, it's just another subject.
But for me?
It's pure depression.
And the reason is simple—my English teacher, Pramila ma'am. For some reason, she just doesn't like me. I don't even know why.
"Good morning, ma'am," the whole class sang together.
She immediately frowned. "Don't sing it like a song. Just say 'Good morning.' That's enough. Sit down."
We all quietly sat.
"Which chapter were we on?" she asked.
Before anyone else could answer, my friend—who loves studying English—stood up confidently. "Ma'am, Chapter 5, A Funny Man, page number 59."
"Good," ma'am said. "Sit."
She started reading and asked us to repeat after her.
"One day a funny kind of man came walking down the street…"
We all followed, repeating line by line.
"He wore a shoe upon his head and hats upon his feet…"
The poem sounded funny, but honestly, I wasn't even paying full attention. I was just reading along like everyone else.
After finishing, she said, "Open your notebooks. Start writing the questions. I'll write the answers on the board."
We all followed.
But there was a problem.
I couldn't see the board.
The tall students were sitting in front, blocking everything. I tried stretching my neck, even jumping slightly to see, but nothing worked.
"Ugh… I can't see anything," I whispered.
"Same here," another girl beside me said.
Finally, we did what we always do.
We got down from our benches and sat on the floor near the front, just so we could see the board clearly.
While I was shifting my things, I accidentally turned toward him.
The new student.
The same boy from the morning.
For a second, our eyes met.
He looked at me calmly, with no expression. Just… observing.
Then he slightly tilted his head and gestured with his eyes, as if saying, "Move."
No words. Just one look.
I quickly turned away, my heart beating strangely fast.
"Why is he looking like that?" I muttered under my breath.
Lunch Time
If there's one time everyone truly enjoys, it's lunch break.
And in our class, lunch was never simple.
It was chaos.
"Hey, what did you bring today?" my friend asked, opening her lunchbox.
"Chapati and curry. You?" I said.
"Dosa."
We both looked at each other and smiled.
"Exchange?" she said.
"Of course."
We didn't just share—we swapped.
My lunch became hers. Hers became mine.
And it wasn't just us. The boys in our class were even worse.
They would literally go around tasting food from everyone's lunchboxes.
"Give one bite!"
"Just one!"
"Arre, don't be selfish!"
If you brought two chapatis, you had to give at least one. Same with dosa.
Sharing was not optional. It was compulsory.
That day, something different happened.
My tiffin got over quickly because everyone kept taking bites. And I didn't mind—it was normal.
But then, suddenly, someone placed a lunchbox in front of me.
It was him.
The new student.
"Take," he said softly.
I looked at him, confused. "What?"
"Eat. I didn't bring today," he said.
I hesitated. "But…"
"Just eat," he said, pushing the box slightly toward me.
I don't know why, but I didn't argue.
Maybe because I was hungry.
Or maybe… something else.
We ended up sharing from the same box.
Quietly.
No unnecessary talking.
After finishing, he stood up, took the box from my hand, and walked away without saying anything.
I sat there, still holding the spoon, confused.
"What just happened?" I whispered.
My stomach was full.
His too, probably.
So whatever was left, we gave it to the boys.
After lunch, when the other girls returned from the washroom, I casually told them what happened.
"I shared lunch with him," I said.
They suddenly started laughing.
"WHAT?" one of them said. "You ate from his box?"
I nodded.
Their expressions changed instantly.
"Do you even know anything about him?" another girl said.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"He doesn't brush properly!"
"He comes to school without brushing sometimes!"
"He just washes his face here and sits in class!"
"And you ate from his lunchbox?"
I froze.
"What…?" I said slowly.
"And he doesn't even wash his tiffin properly," someone added. "Just rinses it with water."
The boys sitting behind us heard everything.
Within seconds—
"Ugh!"
"Disgusting!"
One of the toppers literally felt like vomiting.
I just sat there, silent.
My mind was blank.
The Rumors
There was something else about him.
Since the day he joined, a rumor had spread in the class.
That he was already in a relationship.
With another girl from our class.
"If you ask her, she says yes," my friend whispered.
"And if you ask him?" I asked.
"He says nothing. Just denies and walks away."
I slowly turned my head.
He was sitting there, quietly writing in his notebook, completely unaffected by everything around him.
And I don't know why…
But instead of feeling disgusted or angry…
I kept looking at him.
Not at his face.
But at the way he wrote.
The way he spoke.
The way he stayed calm.
"Why am I noticing all this?" I thought.
The class continued.
The teacher was explaining something.
Students were writing.
Everything was normal.
Except me.
Because for the first time…
I realized something had changed.
And I didn't even understand what it was yet.
(To be continued…)