The month of November
carried forward the foundation,
set by October's embrace
In the Glow of Parting Moments
"Namaste maami ji," I greeted with a grin as I entered the coaching centre.
Seeing Sanjana, who hadn't been around for a while, gave me a fleeting moment of surprise.
The nickname was entirely for fun—just as I called Naira "maamu," I had started using "maami ji" with Sanjana. The "ji" was added out of respect, given the way she carried herself, which made her seem like a senior to me.
As I checked in at the desk, she kept her gaze fixed on the rank list of the previous test. Without looking, she greeted me with a slight smile and said, "Hell-low," her tone playfully drawn out.
It felt like she didn't need to see me to recognise my voice— "maami ji" had already done the trick.
I turned towards classroom 10 when I suddenly remembered that I had left my bottle in one of the other classrooms the previous day. On Lizz's suggestion, I had called Dipali ma'am and asked her to keep my bottle safe.
I glanced back towards the reception desk and saw my bottle neatly placed underneath, just as I had requested. Relieved, I picked it up and made my way back. Sanjana, standing nearby, looked up and smirked before teasing, "You're the one who walks around with his bottle tucked into his pocket, aren't you?"
Her tone was light-hearted and full of familiarity. It reminded me of how I kept all my belongings very safely and especially my bottle.
I couldn't help but smile at her comment. I then explained that I had forgotten the bottle the previous day while waiting to check my OMR sheet after noticing an issue with my marks.
I even told her that Raj Sir had mentioned that if my marks didn't come out well in the next exam, my dad would be called and I was quite worried about it. As always, her response didn't change.
"Ye koi asli exam thodi na tha."
After filling up my bottle, I headed to the classroom. Sanjana, on the other hand, moved slowly in the opposite direction. Setting down my bag, I returned to the reception desk to get the AC remote.
I went back to the classroom and switched on the ACs. Just as I was adjusting and setting them to 24 degrees, the door opened, and Sanjana walked in. Looking at me she said,
"Set both the ACs to nineteen."
As she walked further into the classroom, my heartbeat quickened noticeably. It was more of an involuntary reaction.
With Sanjana, especially, I still preferred to keep a bit of a distance. Though we had had numerous conversations by then, her presence made me feel a bit nervous.
As usual, Sanjana placed her bag on the bench behind me and leaned against the wall. I would've sat back the same way, but with her there, I stayed a little reserved and chose the table instead. Had it been Naira in her place, I would have comfortably settled into my usual spot.
She asked me a few things about the reduced syllabus for the JEE exam, followed by a short silence until it hit me that the first part of my book, which covered the major incidents from 11th grade, was complete. Lizz and Ramesh had showered me with appreciation for it. Sanjana, too, had been eager to read it when I had just started writing.
I kept thinking about how to tell her that she was going to be one of the main characters in my book. We had never been that close, and I was worried she might take it the wrong way. Before I could figure out the right words, she asked another question about the syllabus. As I answered her, I finally mentioned my book.
"Aur wo bhi ho gaya hai," I said in such a vague way that no one, let alone her, could understand what I was referring to.
"What?" Her question was perfectly reasonable, and her eyes were still fixed on her phone.
"Nothing, nothing..." I muttered, staying seated at the table, trying to remain calm. My heartbeat was still racing.
"Bol naa," she said.
Hearing this, I lifted my head, only to see that she was still engrossed in her phone.
I began, "There was this book I was working on, if you remember… Naira must have told you about it. Both you and Naira are a part of it."
"Yes," she said, remembering, and I was a little surprised.
"So, the first part is completed," I added.
"Toh bhej naaa," she responded, still focused on her phone.
Was it really that simple?
I asked myself, a bit taken aback. I opened the drive of the secret email account I'd created to store all the chapters, then sent her the first two chapters. And just then, it hit me—I had forgotten to include the title and prologue. Panicking a bit, I quickly deleted everything and sent it
in the correct order, this time with the title and prologue attached.
The PDFs were successfully delivered. I saw the blue tick appear—she had seen the message. But that was it. She had seen it and left it at that. Maybe she thought she'd read it later. Or maybe she didn't even think that far. Who knows? I, on the other hand, kept staring at our WhatsApp chat, looking at those sent PDFs again and again.
What's she going to think when she reads the part where she enters the story?
At the center, in a lehenga, with both her hands held by two girls. And that encounter we had in the lift…
What if she takes it the wrong way? I really hope she doesn't get the impression that I'm following her around, or worse—what if she thinks I'm into her? No, no, no, that was not even remotely possible!
The thoughts alone made me cringe. She might overanalyze the whole thing or think I'm weirdly writing about her. I hope she doesn't pull some deeper meaning out of all this—because that was not it at all.
At that moment, I gathered some courage and tried to give her a disclaimer, hoping she wouldn't misunderstand anything I had written about her.
"Whatever I've written… about whoever I've written… It's only what I've seen or heard; that's all I've put in there. So, you please…"
"I'm going to take screenshots and send them to everyone," she interrupted, her voice mischievous. She quickly lifted her head, her eyes widened, followed by a devilish smile that made my heart skip a beat.
Hearing her response, it was as if all the courage I had just gathered drained out of me in an instant. Like my attempt to clear things up had fallen flat.
I blinked, looked at her, and then pressed my lips together, trying to steady myself.
"Nahi bhejungi yaar..." she finally said, relieving me by ending the joke. But I already knew it was all in good fun, though her words had left me momentarily blank.
I told her, "The first part of the book is mainly introductory."
"Is it about your joining?" she asked. That was when I explained how the first few chapters revolved around meeting my school crush'—who I always referred to as 'pehli wali'
"Abe toh teri kitni thi?" she questioned loudly, her eyes still glued to her phone. Yet, I could sense the faint laughter in her voice, even in her teasing shout.
This was the moment when Sanjana finally learned about my ex-girlfriends.
"Smallest two gidits..." I began, but my voice seemed to completely disappear as her eyes finally lifted from her phone and landed on me.
"Kya?" she questioned, still waiting for an answer.
"Nothing," I shook my head, but she wasn't one to let it go.
"Bol na," she pressed, and after a moment, I finally let the words slip out,
"Smallest two-digit number."
I let the silence linger for a few seconds, giving her time to process what I just said.
"I had 10 girlfriends in my school life."
She burst out laughing, her eyes back on her phone as she teased,
"Aree, itni nahi rakhni hoti hai, Tanish!" Her shout mixed with her laughter echoed in the room.
I don't quite remember how I reacted to her words, but I ended up telling her about the other books I had worked on earlier, including the ones I had written about my first school crush.
"So you've worked on six books so far?" Sanjana asked, her eyes still fixed on her phone, before mentioning how she had once thought of writing a book based on her school life—but had dropped the idea within a couple of days.
Calculating in my head, I told her that, including the current ones, there had been six so far—something she reacted to with clear surprise, wondering how I had managed that level of dedication. I even added, half amused, that I hadn't read even six books myself, yet had somehow written that many.
"Toh bina padhe kaise tune itna sab likha?" she asked.
At the time, I didn't really have an answer—apart from my belief that writing non-fiction, especially true stories, didn't really require reading books. I brushed it off as just another casual question. Little did I know, it would later become one of the most common questions I'd face from readers.
Soon the door opened and in walked Naira, the cute one, dressed in a black jacket with her hair open. I could almost feel the sigh of relief escape from Sanjana, who had been calling and waiting for her.
Honestly, I felt it too. Naira's presence instantly dissipated the awkwardness that had been lingering between Sanjana and me. Afterall, the cutest girl of the academy was also the easiest to approach.
Both of them quickly got lost in their conversation while I turned to my phone. Even then, bits of their discussion about the Khopoli trip drifted my way. Sanjana, in her usual mischievous tone, joked about how she'd need "cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs" just to survive it.
I shook my head slightly, half-amused, half-unsure what to make of her sometimes.
"Are you a racist?" she suddenly asked, turning to me.
"What's a racist?" I replied instinctively.
She let out an annoyed tchh.
"Oh—wait, I know," I quickly corrected myself. "Someone who discriminates based on skin colour, right?"
Another tchh.
"I'm not, by the way," I added, a little defensively. "I've always been proud of my brown skin."
But by then, the moment had already slipped. Both of them went back to their chatter, moving from one topic to another, as if nothing had happened.
And I just sat there, stuck somewhere else entirely.
On those PDFs I had sent her.
Wondering if she'd remember to read them.
How she'd react.
Would she say something? Ask me about it?
Or just ignore it… and stay quiet?
Or worse—forget it altogether.
* * * * * * * *
"Are?
Mujhe laga ki tu traditional pehenne wala hai?"
Naira asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
"Of course, I am. I'll change in a while," I replied with a smile.
It was the last day before the Diwali vacations, with the first two days marking the much-anticipated Khopoli trip, which I was going to miss. The night before, I had put up a poll in our group to see who was planning to come in traditional attire, and I was happy to receive positive responses.
I had only one kurta left that I hadn't worn to the academy—the same one I had worn on Garba night. I decided to come an hour early, wearing my AOS T-shirt and carrying the kurta in my bag, though I was still in my white pants. As I walked to the stationery shop to get a few PYQ printouts and then back to the classroom, I caught a glimpse of myself along the way—and realised I actually looked pretty good in them.
After returning to the academy, I was sitting on the sofa when Naira and Rushika opened the door and entered. Naira was visibly shocked to see me sitting there in my AOS t-shirt, clearly not expecting it.
Naira was dressed in a beautiful blue traditional outfit—though I couldn't quite place what it was. Whatever it was, it made her look even more charming than usual. She mentioned it was her mom's, which gave it a quiet, sentimental touch, and somehow, that seemed to reflect in the way she carried herself.
I recognised it from one of her Instagram posts—I had complimented her on it back then too. Seeing her in it again, I complimented her this time that she looked good, and she smiled, thanking me.
Our first of the two lectures was on organic chemistry. The atmosphere in class was light and positive; everyone seemed to be taking notes and understanding the concepts—except for me, of course. I was still steadfast in my decision to abandon Organic Chemistry.
Naira, sitting behind me, looked bored. To pass the time, I took her notebook and started writing her notes in neat handwriting. It felt like a good distraction from the subject I had mentally checked out of.
Ramesh, who wasn't exactly fond of Naira, caught sight of what I was doing. His disapproving look said it all, and he threw in a casual curse, "What nonsense are you up to now?"
He always had this dismissive attitude toward her, but I shrugged it off. I didn't care—I was going to quit Organic anyway, but I wouldn't mind writing notes for Naira either.
When I handed the notebook back to Naira, she looked at me with concern and a questioning expression that asked, "Why did you leave your own notes to write mine?" I replied that I was bored.
Sir, too, was in a great mood, full of energy, and encouraging us to perform something for the class. He teased me with a sly remark about how I sing so well, clearly hinting at something. Then, people chimed in, revealing that I was known for my mimicry skills. That sealed the deal—I had no choice but to get up and perform.
I decided to mimic Sajit sir and Kashyap sir, as they were always popular choices. Naira, meanwhile, took on the role of my personal director from the sidelines, giving me instructions on which actions I should imitate to make sure I didn't miss anything. Her guidance was spot-on, and I tried to keep up with everything she said.
On the other hand, Shaurya, sitting behind me, was trying to distract me—or maybe even make me laugh—by making inappropriate gestures. He was mimicking a vulgar action, but I couldn't quite figure out what he was up to.
And with the lunch break, the buzz about Sanjana's arrival began too.
"Sanjana in a saree is the best combo," Lizz remarked, with a playful grin. The other girls chimed in, nodding in agreement, as they continued to chat excitedly about it.
My stomach was already growling. Even after samosas and an early paratha-sabzi, I was still hungry. I went to 7/11 with Ramesh for some Kurkure, but that didn't help much. Back in class, the hunger returned, and I ended up stepping out again—for a samosa pav, and later, a packet of Lay's.
When I returned, Ramesh couldn't help but tease me—and he wasn't wrong. I had already spent enough on food and was still hungry. That's when I decided—enough. Whatever I eat next, it'll be at home.
Outside the classroom, I noticed that the blank answer sheets for the BS College assignments were being handed out. I walked over and just stood there, lazily munching on my packet of Lays, thinking that once I finished, I'd grab my sheets.
Just then, the door opened, and I overheard whispers about her arrival. Sanjana walked in, dressed in a white saree—if memory serves me right, it had a bhindi print, which is probably the only thing I remembered about it.
"Tanish?" She turned to me.
"Which class are we sitting in?"
"Classroom number 9.", I answered.
I completely forgot to grab my answer sheet; too focused on finishing that packet of chips. With that in hand, I walked back to class without a second thought.
Within a few minutes, the trio—Sanjana, Naira, and Shaurya—had already begun their gossip, with Naira chiming in occasionally. As I got up to collect my assignment sheets, Sanjana asked me to bring hers as well.
As I passed by Shaurya's bench, I overheard part of their conversation and realised they were in the middle of some climax scene from an incident Shaurya was explaining to both the girls. Seeing me, both Sanjana and Naira burst out laughing, and Shaurya continued narrating the rest of the scene.
After listening for a bit, I finally stood up to get the sheets. Dipali ma'am threw in some dramatic remarks, but in the end, I managed to get the sheets for Sanjana as well. Back in class, I realised I had eight sheets for myself but only six for her. So, I tore one from my stack and gave it to her, and we both ended up with 7 sheets each.
Shaurya and Naira were deep in conversation, with Sanjana listening intently, while Mayanti and I sat nearby, casually scrolling through our phones and half-listening. Shaurya, always the one to tease, had a habit of teasing the four girls who usually stuck together. Then, his target was Naira, and he couldn't resist commenting on her WhatsApp DP.
"Naira's DP isn't good, because it has Naira herself in it," he quipped.
Nobody laughed, not even lightly, and just then, Paresh, who had been sitting quietly in the other row, suddenly looked up from his phone and shot back,
"Why don't you look at your own face before commenting on her?"
Shaurya's reply came as quick as lightning, asking Paresh to mind his own business since the taunt wasn't for him.
And with that, the room erupted into a heated argument. Their voices grew louder, and in the midst of their rising tempers, I had to raise my own voice just to break through the noise. I tried to calm things down by repeating Shaurya's point.
But Paresh wasn't having it. He shot back with a taunt of his own, that Shaurya shouldn't have said that about a girl.
That remark only reignited the fire that was just beginning to settle, fanning the flames of an already tense situation. Hearing Paresh's words reminded me of how he himself used to speak disrespectfully about a girl from our academy.
I couldn't help but retort, "You please do not speak anything about girls."
But by then, the two of them had already closed the gap, getting dangerously close to a full-blown fight. First, I tried to keep it down by raising my voice and asking them to stay away from each other.
"Tanish Abhay sir ko bula" Sanjana told me.
The tension was thick, and I had no choice but to step in. I tried to push them apart gently, keeping them at bay. I could feel Shaurya's tense biceps as I held him back. Thankfully, after a few moments, both of them retreated to their spots.
On one side, Sanjana was trying to reason with Shaurya, urging him to back down, while on the other, Mayanti was attempting to calm Paresh, reminding him that after three months, everyone would be going their separate ways, so there was no point in holding onto such fights.
Somehow, things eventually cooled down—I don't even remember how. Paresh stayed back in the class, while I stepped out into the corridor with the girls. Ramesh was there too, telling me not to interfere in their fight. We stayed outside until the lecture began. The second and final lecture of the day was physical chemistry. Everyone settled in—Kavya and I on the second bench, with Naira and Sanjana right behind us.
Shaurya sat behind them, and in the other row, Paresh and Mayanti had taken their seats. The classroom was packed, with students from both B2 and the non-integrated batches, all ready to attend the lecture.
The water outside had run out, but somehow, my bottle was still filled with cold water. Naira's bottle was empty, so I took it and kept it with me, using it like a makeshift gear, just to tease her.
Managing two "gears" at once was tricky, but I was determined to bring a smile to her face. Every time her bottle slipped from my hand, she'd burst into laughter, and honestly, that moment alone made my day.
As we began discussing the questions, light-hearted teasing still followed. Whenever Naira made a mistake, I would sarcastically remind her that's why I'd given her the nickname 'Maamu. '
And when Sanjana messed up, I'd joke that she'd have to become 'Maamu' too, from 'Maami ji.'
Naira, confused, asked why she was 'Maamu' while Sanjana was 'Maami ji'.
In a soft voice, I responded, "Because you're too cute for anything else."
I knew it didn't go well, so I quickly looked away, but Naira caught my words and gave a puzzled look, almost as if she was questioning her own cuteness. From then on, I made sure to cover my own mistakes quietly, hoping the cute one behind me wouldn't notice.
I glanced back for a second when I sensed a few whispers. I saw Naira and Sanjana consoling Shaurya, who sat slumped over, his head resting on the bench, clearly distressed. His eyes were slightly red, a sign of the frustration he was feeling.
Trying to lift his spirits, I said in a playful tone, "Maamu, pareshaan ho kya?"
He looked up, his gaze meeting mine, and gave a faint smile. Seeing that made me feel a little lighter.
And just as I turned to the front, I heard Sanjana's voice from behind.
"Oye..
Oye...
Sun sun sun!"
I turned around to see that she had a doubt.
I cleared that up, and then looked back at the front. Suman ma'am was explaining the concept behind why the pH of water was 7, which when I questioned the faculty, Sanjana's voice jumped in in again from behind,
"Mai batau? Mai batau? Mai batau?"
"Hold on. Let me ask the teacher first, then I'll ask you about it," I replied to her, and focused on the whiteboard as Suman ma'am solved the entire equation to derive the pH value of water.
"Yeah... now you explain it to me." I mischievously turned to Sanjana and asked her to explain the same thing.
Surprisingly, she actually told me the whole concept from the beginning, even though I had just understood it from the teacher a minute ago.
"Wait... you're explaining something I already know," I interrupted her.
"Then what do you want?" Sanjana asked, puzzled.
"I thought you already knew about the quadratic equation that helps us determine the pH of water as 7, which I just asked mam. I was just wondering how you knew about this equation even before the teacher taught us."
"Nahi. That I did not know. I only knew what I explained to you just now." , she explained.
All this while, my kurta's button kept falling every few minutes. I had already lost one during Garba Night, and I had been trying to keep the other one pinned for the entire day, but it always seemed to come undone.
The last time it happened was when I was sitting with Shaurya, engrossed in the climax of a gossip scene, while Naira and Sanjana were next to me. Naira had noticed but didn't react when I gestured for her to keep quiet by putting a finger to my lips.
And then, it popped open again. I finally thought that a safety pin would be a good solution. I glanced around at the three girls sitting nearby, and since Sanjana was the only one in a saree, she was probably the only one with safety pins.
Hesitantly, I turned to Sanjana for the umpteenth time during the lecture and asked,
"Hey, do you have a safety pin?"
She lifted her head, pressed her lips together, and nodded as I finished my request. To avoid the awkwardness, I added, glancing between her and Naira, "If either of you has a safety pin, that'll work for me."
"I have one," Naira said, which took me by surprise, since I distinctly remembered her telling Rushika earlier that morning that she didn't have a safety pin.
She took it out from her pouch, I guess, and handed it to me.
Normally, fastening a safety pin was easy, but that day it just didn't go through my kurta. After a few failed attempts—Kavya suggested I try it in the washroom, but I gave up, returned the pin to Naira, and tucked the kurta back in place the old way.
Moments later, I once again found myself talking to Sanjana about something more pressing—our upcoming submissions.
"What are you asking about?"
"Tutorials.", I repeated.
"You mean tyutorials?", she slowly whispered as mam passed by us.
"Are ha hamari angrez" I kept this to myself and agreed,
"Ha wahi, TYUTORIALS."
She answered that she still had her tutorials pending and would begin completing them that evening. It suddenly occurred to me that since I was already planning to send the assignment answers to Ramesh, I might as well inquire if Sanjana needed them as well.
She smiled, a soft chuckle escaping her, and then extended her hand towards me, as if asking for something.
"So, should I send them?" I asked, just to be sure.
That smile remained on her face as she nodded and then giggled.
Naira muttered in a low, amused voice that no one would ever refuse that kind of help, her attention shifting between the whiteboard and her notebook. I responded that help and support should be given only to those who genuinely needed it.
"You help without being asked to," Naira remarked, her eyes shifting from the board to her book.
"Well, you're super special to me, that's why I always help you unconditionally," I whispered under my breath, so softly that even Sanjana couldn't hear it.
Suman ma'am finally shifted from the lecture and casually asked if everyone had packed for the trip. Sanjana replied that she hadn't yet and would do it after getting home, which caught my attention. Surprised, I asked if she was really planning to start packing only after reaching home. She looked at me, a little confused at first, but then simply nodded yes.
"But didn't you say you'd be doing your tyutorials tonight?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Abe!!" she let out a sigh and a soft laugh.
"So, here's what you should do—sit at home, finish your tutorials, and I'll go on the trip on your behalf," I teased.
"Abeee!!" she burst into laughter.
"Eraser!" she asked as the lecture was coming to an end.
"Which one do you want? The eraser I have had since my 8th grade, the one from my 10th boards, or the one I've used since February?" I listed them all quickly.
"Abe, just give me anyone," she laughed, half-exasperated.
"Fine, take this one," I handed her the February eraser.
While she used it, I showed her the rest from my bag.
She leaned closer, curious.
"If you've had them so long, why aren't they worn out?" she asked.
"Because I keep losing them, then finding them again," I shrugged, smiling at the small silliness, as it was our last conversation of the day.
And finally, Suman ma'am dismissed the class, wishing everyone a happy Diwali, though hardly anyone seemed to pay attention. I stayed back for a while, wanting to wish Naira before leaving. She, Sanjana, and Kavya were standing together, and I lingered around them for a bit, not really part of their conversation, just present.
I overheard Shaurya telling Naira how fun it would be if he brought those party poppers for the trip, and the excitement in their voices made it clear that their focus had already shifted to the next day.
Everyone was busy discussing plans and everything they were looking forward to, while I stood there, quietly aware of my own reality. Without thinking much, I stepped in and wished everyone a happy Diwali, shaking hands one by one—especially Naira, who smiled and wished me back. It was a simple moment, but one that stayed with me.
With nothing left to do after that, I began walking towards the bus stop. It had been a day full of laughter and small moments that felt worth keeping. But as the evening settled in, so did a quiet heaviness. The thought of missing the trip lingered in the back of my mind, knowing that by the next day, they would all be together—sharing jokes, clicking pictures, creating memories—while I would be far away in Gwalior.
I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter, that there would be other trips and other chances. But the thought stayed. Not loud, not overwhelming, just quietly present. And as I boarded the bus, I carried the echoes of the day with me, knowing that tomorrow, everything would continue… just without me.
* * * * * * * *
Our train from Mumbai was delayed, so we reached Gwalior six hours late. I wasn't even in the mood to celebrate. The entire day of Dhanteras had gone by sitting in the train, but more than that, it was the feeling of leaving AOS that stayed with me. Leaving AOS meant leaving behind that energy—the laughter, the familiarity, the people who made even the most ordinary days feel alive. Even though it was just a short break, it didn't feel light.
Surprisingly, I didn't feel as left out about the trip as I had expected. There weren't many Instagram stories—just one from Naira. She had posted two pictures in that white top she'd been talking about with Sanjana in class. Because of the weak network on the train, I couldn't see them clearly until the next day.
The first one showed her standing on her balcony, her back to the camera, hands resting on the railing. I replied almost instantly, "Naira on firee," adding a few fire emojis. She responded with a simple "Yass."
"I became a fan," I followed up, sending a few more emojis, and she replied with a laughing emoji.
It happened again on Diwali. This time, she was dressed in a traditional outfit, holding a diya in her hands. "I became a fan two times," I wrote, and once again, she responded with that same laughing emoji.
It wasn't just her—almost everyone seemed to have embraced the festive mood online. Shubh posted a picture in a plain red kurta, I wore a blue one, and Sanjana shared photos in a yellow saree. For a moment, it felt like nothing had really changed—as if everyone was still right there.
If anything kept me occupied during the vacations, it was the pressure of upcoming practical submissions. Everyone was scrambling to finish tutorials and complete their practical books. Lizz, Sanjana, Ramesh, and I were constantly discussing how to manage it all in time, trying to stay ahead of the deadlines.
At the same time, the buzz around the 2023 ICC Cricket World Cup was impossible to ignore. India had been in incredible form, already securing a place in the semi-finals by November. There was a quiet confidence everywhere—a belief that this time, things might finally go all the way. I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'd get to see my idol lift the World Cup.
Amid all this, the small conversations about various things continued. One afternoon, while I was complaining in the group chat about missing a four-hour physical chemistry lecture, Naira messaged me privately.
"Missing a four-hour lecture is way better than missing an entire week of classes."
That's when I remembered—she was leaving for Rajasthan, something she had mentioned earlier.
"Aww, I'll miss you sitting behind me," I replied, half-teasing—honest, but careful enough not to let it come across the wrong way.
She sent a laughing emoji and added, "Please ask someone with good handwriting to send me the notes."
"I'll write them out myself in neat handwriting and send them to you," I told her, not minding taking that responsibility for her.
She replied with her usual smiley.
I had a feeling that after the vacations when I would return, something would feel off—and it did. Naira wasn't there. The girl who held her place behind me for several months not being there made me feel different.
It was not just her, others including Lizz didn't show up. Kavya was on a long vacation. Sanjana remained at home, maybe because Naira wasn't around. Though Ramesh and Shaurya were present, they sat farther away, and our conversations barely happened.
The place and the lectures were the same. The people were mostly the same. But it didn't feel the same.
And then came November 19, 2023.
India lost the World Cup final to Australia.
It wasn't just a loss—it felt like something had quietly collapsed. Rohit Sharma's early dismissal, Virat Kohli's wicket, and then the slow realization that things were slipping away. Travis Head's innings sealed it.
The dream of watching my idol lift the World Cup remained just that—a dream.
Across the country, people watched in silence. For days, that pain remained, pricking like a needle. I remember seeing Rohit walk back, his eyes glistening—and somehow, it felt personal, as if everyone was carrying a part of that disappointment.
A few days later, I found myself standing in the classroom, scrolling through emotional reels of India's loss set to those sad Bollywood songs. I stood near the whiteboard, my gaze shifting between my phone and the empty benches. The same reel kept replaying, and before I even realised it, my eyes had filled with tears—and soon, quiet sobs followed.
"Aree mat dekh." This time, it was a voice that made me shift my focus.
It was Lizz.
She smiled, as if she had known all along what I'd been doing—even while her own eyes were on her phone. I don't know what stopped me from reacting; I just rushed out of the class. In fact, I ran out of the academy and broke down, crying again and again. Karan and Piyush tried to console me, but all I wanted was to be left alone.
I don't even remember why I stayed there for so long. Maybe I didn't feel like going back inside. Maybe I didn't feel like going anywhere at all.
My idol, the trophy, and more importantly — the dream was gone.
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