Aviraj had always been the kind of boy whose name teachers remembered for all the wrong reasons. Born and raised in a crowded corner of Pune, he grew up surrounded by restless streets, tea stalls buzzing with half‑finished conversations, and friends who dragged him into every mischief possible.
Studies, for him, were nothing more than a noisy annoyance in life. His notebooks were filled with doodles, game cheat codes, and half‑written homework completed during assembly lines. His teachers tried everything—warnings, punishments, extra classes—but Aviraj remained the boy who played mobile games under the desk and laughed loudly in hallways.
He wasn't a bad person—just a boy searching for purpose without knowing he needed one.
But life, as always, had its own plans