The story begins at Shivnagar Government Boys School, which started every day at 12:00 PM in the afternoon. When other schools were closing, the bell rang here. The sun was at its peak, the air was hot, and heat rose from the old cement buildings, making the ground feel even heavier. It was an all-boys school where students studied from class 1 to class 12. An afternoon-shift school — where the most tired and irritated noise of the day gathered.
In this school's class 10 studied a boy. His name was Arav. His name was rarely heard anywhere except in the attendance register. And even those who knew him saw him as nothing more than a shadow.
Arav always sat alone on the second-last bench of the last row. The same seat every day. The same silence. His head slightly lowered, his eyes on the desk. If someone talked to him, he replied normally. Not rude. Not awkward. But he never went to anyone on his own. That's why calling him an introvert was not completely true. He wasn't afraid of people. He was simply… disconnected from them.
Many times, the boys in class didn't even realize whether Arav had come to school that day or not. When the teacher called his name, only then did the class remember — yes, there is another boy too. He rarely came to school. And when he did, it felt like only his body was present… the rest of him was somewhere else.
In appearance, Arav was far from normal. Black hair, deep black eyes, and fair skin. A naturally sharp face. And his body — clearly trained. Broad shoulders, a solid frame. Even under his uniform, his defined structure was visible. It was obvious he did heavy exercise every day. But he didn't care about it. Not about his hair. Not about his clothes. There was a slight bend in the way he walked, as if hiding himself had become his habit.
His life revolved around only two things — exercise and martial arts. Everything else was just background noise.
The lunch bell rang. The class suddenly came alive. Benches scraped, bottles opened, and the pressure of voices increased. Arav was still at his seat — his head on the desk. Then a boy from the class, Rohit, came up to him and casually asked, "Arav, want to go to the ground?" Arav agreed without lifting his eyes.
They started walking down the stairs. On the way, their friend Sameer joined them. The three reached the ground while talking. The sun was harsh. Dust was flying. Somewhere cricket was being played, somewhere football. The air was hot and heavy.
After some time, Rohit said, "We're going to the washroom." Sameer went with him. Arav stayed back. "I'm not coming," he said in a flat tone. Both of them left.
As they walked away, Arav's shoulders slowly loosened. One line formed in his mind — Good… otherwise the noise would've made my head burst. He walked alone toward a corner of the ground.
There was a big old neem tree there. Under its shade, the air was a little cooler. Arav went and sat there. The same place. Every day. In that corner, the pressure of sound reduced. When the cool breeze touched his face, it felt as if the constant noise inside his head slowly started to shut down. This was where he found real peace.
Lunch ended. The second bell rang. Arav stood up, dusted off his uniform, and without looking at anyone, walked back toward the building. He came into the class and sat on his same seat — the second-last bench of the last row. There was still time before the teacher arrived. He lowered his head again. And closed his eyes.
As if the whole world had been muted for a while.