It was morning. The sun's rays were just peeking through the windows, and a slight cool breeze was slipping into the house. Yash had already woken up. He got out of bed, shook off the laziness, and dove into his daily chores. First, he went to his garage to do some work—maybe fixing some old stuff or checking his bicycle chain. The dusty air there and the clinking of tools gave him a strange sense of peace. After finishing, he bathed, got ready, put on clean clothes, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed to college. As soon as he stepped out, the morning bustle on the street had begun—shops were opening, people were hurrying to work.
At the bus stop, Yash caught the bus and sat down, heading to college. Sitting on the bus seat, he watched the view outside the window—roads, shops, people coming and going. When the bus stopped at a signal, Yash looked the other way. There, at the intersection, he saw some thugs brutally beating a man. The thugs had sticks in their hands and were shouting loudly. The victim was on the ground, pleading for help, but his voice was muffled. Seeing this, Yash's heart trembled. His hands and feet went cold, and sweat broke out. The people around were just standing and watching the spectacle—no one stepped forward, no one even bothered to call the police. Everyone was scared, or perhaps caring only for their own lives. The thugs left the man bloodied, laughing as they went. The sound of their motorcycles echoed far away. Yash thought to himself, "If these people ever beat me, I'll really fold my hands and beg for forgiveness, but I'll never argue or mess with them." This thought planted a deep fear in his mind, haunting him the whole way. Then, as the bus stopped in front of the college, Yash got off. The moment his feet touched the ground, he took a deep breath, as if wanting to leave the incident behind.
Inside the college, it was the same polished morning atmosphere—the campus grass was green with dew drops glistening, birds were chirping, and soft sunlight was spreading everywhere. People were talking about expensive cars—someone praising the speed of a new luxury car, someone debating a brand's price. No one seemed to know each other; everyone was in their own groups, making new friends or reminiscing about old times. Then a voice came from behind, "Hey Yash! Wait, I'm coming too." Yash turned around to see Mukesh calling him. Mukesh's face was smiling, bag slung over, running toward him. Mukesh said, "I'll walk with you." The two laughed and joked as they headed to class. On the way, Mukesh said something funny, Yash laughed, and their steps lightened. The class atmosphere was the same as yesterday—girls in groups chatting, some discussing fashion, some gossiping about the last party. Laughter and jokes echoed all around. But this time, Yash wasn't scared; he and Mukesh comfortably took their seats. As soon as he sat, Yash put his bag down and felt relief inside that everything was normal now.
After a while, all the class members gradually arrived. Some rushed in with bags slung, others chatted with friends. The creaking of chairs and light buzz of conversation filled the classroom. Then the class teacher, Madam Payal, arrived—her high-heeled sandals clicking from afar. She paused at the door, scanned the class with a smile, and walked to her seat. Seeing her, Yash smiled differently—his eyes sparkled, a slight smile on his lips, as if an old memory was refreshed. Noticing this, Harshita sitting nearby leaned over, squinting her eyes, and said, "Oho! That's hilarious—what are you laughing about so much? Tell me too." Her voice had curiosity and a bit of teasing. Yash said, "Leave it, you won't understand." He dodged the topic, opening his notebook, but the smile stayed on his face.
Then the teacher took attendance. She opened the register and called names—one by one, "Yes Ma'am" echoed from the class. After attendance, she closed the register, turned to the class, and said, "I know you all left yesterday, except a few. Now look—I don't mind if you stay for my lecture or not, but the kids who stay benefit because they won't have to do this work." Her voice had a slight warning but also encouragement. Then the teacher said sternly, "Today you have a test, and after the test, you'll get another surprise." Hearing this, silence fell over the class. All the kids were shocked—some eyes widened, some looked at each other. Except Mukesh, Sameer, Yash, Harshita, and Srishti, because they knew about the test beforehand. The five sat quietly, smiling inside.
Madam distributed the question papers. She picked up a bundle of papers from her table and walked around, giving one sheet to each student. Everyone was scared—some hands trembled, pens dropped, some stared at the blank page. But some kids weren't scared at all—they confidently twirled their pens and started. The paper was for half an hour, and the first to finish would get a prize. The clock's tick-tock now seemed louder. Hearing about the prize, Yash said, "Prize—what will it be?" He thought maybe a pen or notebook. Though Yash said it softly, his voice rose a bit, and Madam heard. She got up from her place, looked at Yash, and said, "Okay—you understood the prize part, but I won't tell now; I'll tell at the results, so don't worry." A light wave of laughter ran through the class, but Yash got embarrassed and lowered his head.
Gradually, all the kids started submitting papers. The scratching of pens, flipping of pages, and occasional deep sighs echoed in the class. Time was up—Madam checked the clock and said loudly, "Time up!" Madam collected the sheets. She gathered them from each desk, moving forward. All the kids in the class were sad because no one knew there would be a test today. Some girls were on the verge of crying, boys sat holding their heads in despair. But Yash, Harshita, Sameer, and Mukesh—they knew, and their papers went well. They looked at each other and smiled lightly. Then there were a few more classes—notes in the next lecture, a presentation, but everyone's attention was on the test results. Finally, Madam came with the result sheet and said, "Look, you all performed very poorly. But some kids got the highest marks. Take the result I'm giving, get it signed by your mom-dad at home and bring it back—or I'll come to your house myself to do it. And don't even think of faking the signature, because I have your parents' real signatures—so be careful." Her eyes scanned every student, as if warning.
All the kids got scared because they knew their scores were very low. Some even banged their foreheads seeing the result sheet. Then Madam said, "Sameer, Yash, Mukesh, Srishti, Harshita—you all took my full class yesterday, yet you couldn't top. You knew what questions were coming, still you couldn't top." Hearing this, the five were shocked. Their brows furrowed, they looked at each other. Harshita stood up and asked, "Madam, if that's the case, who topped?" Her voice had surprise and a bit of anger. Madam named them—first place Priya, second place Pinky. The class erupted in applause, but the rest were sad. And Madam gave both big diary-milk chocolates—unwrapping the shiny packing in front of everyone. Priya and Pinky jumped with joy. With that, Madam gave the result sheets and left. Her heels clicked far away. The mood of all the kids in class wasn't good, so they left slowly—some picked up bags and went out quietly, some complained to friends.
Yash quietly went to Madam and said, "Miss Payal Ma'am, can I get it signed by someone else besides my parents?" He was hesitating a bit, crumpling the result sheet in his hand. Madam said, "Look—get it signed by any elder if parents aren't there, but don't sign it yourself, okay?" Her voice was strict, but a slight smile on her face. Yash said, "Yes Ma'am." Then he picked up his bag from class and left college. Outside, the sun was setting, evening shadows spreading on campus. Outside, the same scene—Harshita was going with some good-looking guy on a bike. The guy was tall and broad, in black glasses, and Harshita was laughing and talking with him as they went. This time, Yash thought to himself, "Who could that guy be after all?" His mind was full of questions, but he left it and started walking ahead. On the road, traffic sounds, horns, and distant dog barking could be heard.
Then he reached his room. Opening the door, the warmth inside and the smell of old books welcomed him. He freshened up—bathed, changed clothes, and lay on the bed thinking about last night's talk, where his boss had said, "Just work 2 hours; after evening, you can roam as you like." His voice still echoed in his ears. Yash did the same—after two hours of work, he left at 7:30 pm. Turned off the shop lights, locked up, and stepped onto the road. Walking like that, a thought came to his mind, "What should I do after all? I don't understand." Life's questions surrounded him—college, job, friends, and uncertain future. He went to a garden. There, soft evening light fell on the green grass, some kids were playing, and the air had the fragrance of flowers. And he sat on a nearby bench. The bench was cool, he closed his eyes and breathed. Then he didn't know what to do. His mind was empty, but his heart heavy. Just then, a girl came and said, "You're sitting in my spot." Her voice was soft but firm. Yash apologized, turned back, and seeing the girl's face, said, "Hey—you're our class topper Priya, right?" His eyes widened, and lines of surprise appeared on his face. Priya smiled, books in her hand, and her hair waving in the wind.