"Wake up, Mithu, you don't want to be late on the first day of your new college, right?" my mom said in the sweetest voice in the world.
"Mummy, please, two minutes more," I replied in a voice still drained in sleep.
"Okay, but only two minutes." She left my room, saying this in a slightly serious tone.
Sometimes I feel like I do not deserve a mother like her—she's so sweet, so calm, so intelligent. And then there's me. But I am not the one at fault this time; it's my fear of college, especially after what happened in my first year, when I had to leave my college, my friends.
I stood up from my bed, pausing my thoughts, and went straight into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, took a bath, and wore the most hated jeans—yup, blue skinny jeans with a blue-and-white striped oversized shirt, untucked, with white plain sneakers. For my hairstyle, I chose the prettiest and most effort-taking option: a ponytail. Not the high one, but the simplest one.
I rushed to the dining area, very hungry.
"Mummy, I'm starving! Where's breakfast?" I cried.
"It's on the table. Can't you see it?" came a voice from the living room.
"Whe-re? I hope you're not talking about the cornflakes bowl," I asked, although I knew this was my breakfast.
"Well, it is—"
"I have tol—"
"Listen to me," she cut me off and continued. "I have a meeting in an hour and have to leave early. That's why I couldn't cook, but I promise I'll cook breakfast from tomorrow."
"What can I say now?" I muttered, gulping down the first disappointment of my day.
"Even God can't say anything in front of her; we are just casual humans," my dad teased.
"You're just too much," my mom replied, pretending to be angry, and went into her room.
"Umm, what are you wearing, Mahi? I've never seen you dress up like this," my dad asked, sitting in the chair next to me.
"Well, Papa, just tell me—am I looking ugly enough?" I asked genuinely, wanting the answer.
"Oh, now I get what this is for. But dear, you don't need to do this. Be yourself," he said in a concerned voice.
I got up from the chair and walked toward the kitchen. "It's necessary. I don't want any other trouble in my life." I picked up my bag and started walking toward the house door.
"I'm going," I shouted.
"You remember the route?" my parents asked in unison.
"How can someone even forget it when they've been told about it a hundred times?" I replied, making them smile.
"Enjoy," my dad said.
"Sure."
I wasn't sure if I would be happier in this college or not, but one thing I was a hundred per cent sure of: it had more perks than my previous college. For example, it was much closer to my house, had a massive campus, great placements, and so many clubs and events. It was like a dream college, where the children of VIPs studied—and some people like me, with the help of scholarships, also got in.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't realize I had reached the metro station. I walked toward the platform and waited for the metro to come. Just two minutes later, the metro stopped at the platform, and I squeezed in between people, trying not to get shoved or stared at.
After what felt like forever, I got off at Botanical Garden and started walking toward the college. I was relieved to see that I wasn't the only one walking.
I reached the college gates and took a deep breath, trying to act normal. Easy, Mahi, just blend in. I stepped inside and immediately noticed the perfectly dressed students chatting, laughing, and carrying their fancy bags like they owned the world.
I tugged at my untucked shirt and it didn't take me even a minute to realize that I had overreacted. I mean, how the hell did I miss that this was not the Vidya Bharti College I used to study in? Girls here were much prettier than someone like me.
"Okay, it's just today. I'll dress better tomorrow," I tried to calm myself, although I knew I would fail. "What's the point of regretting now," I murmured.
Before my thoughts could take over me, I walked up to the notice board, squinting at the tiny letters. "BBA… 2nd year…" I murmured under my breath, scanning the list for my class like it would magically jump out at me.
"Looking for this?" a deep voice said from behind. I turned and nearly dropped my bag. A guy—huge, like six feet—was pointing at the list. "Your classroom's 204, third floor."
"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. Before I could step back, he reached out and patted my head. "Welcome, kiddo," he added with a grin.
I froze, cheeks flaming, staring up at him. Okay, seriously? He's massive, and he just called me 'kiddo' like I'm some toddler. Great, just great. Why does everyone have to be taller, better, cooler… and now pat my head too?
Ugh, I hated my life.
I went to the third floor, just like that beast said, hoping my classmates wouldn't find me weird. "Room 204… There it is," I murmured.
I peeked inside the classroom. Rows of perfectly arranged desks, students already chatting and laughing like they owned the place. My heart sank a little.
Great. Everyone looks so confident, so… normal. And me? I look like I got lost on the way to a pyjama party. I quietly slipped into an empty seat in the middle row because those were the best seats to be invisible.
As I settled into my seat, I couldn't help but notice the guy two rows ahead meticulously arranging his pens by colour. Really? Pens by colour?
I sighed. Yep, totally fitting in, I muttered under my breath, giving my hair a quick tug to make it look slightly less messy.
The professor entered the class—probably in his mid-fifties or sixties—and I can say there was nothing special about him; he looked just like any other professor.
The professor cleared his throat and gave us a small smile. "I'm Professor Rishi Sharma, and I'll be handling your Management and Organisational Behaviour classes this year. We have a lot to cover, but I promise I'll try to make it interesting."
He glanced around the room, eyes lingering just a little too long on some students, then finally rested on the middle row—where I was sitting, of course. I ducked slightly in my seat.
"Now, this year," he continued, "we'll be focusing on practical applications of management concepts, group projects, case studies, and some presentations. So yes, you'll be doing more than just sitting and taking notes."
I looked around as he spoke. Some students groaned at the thought of endless presentations, but I couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. Finally, some real learning! Group projects, case studies… this is going to be interesting, I thought, leaning forward slightly in my seat.
The idea of putting management concepts into practice made my mind buzz with possibilities. I could already imagine the strategies, the planning, the teamwork… okay, maybe even impressing someone along the way.
This wasn't just another year—it was my year to actually enjoy BBA.
I shifted in my seat, glancing around the room. Some students were already chatting in small groups, flipping through notebooks, and scribbling down ideas. I smiled to myself—this was going to be fun.
Then I spotted him—the tall guy who had patted my head at the notice board—sitting a few rows ahead, quietly flipping through his notes. I froze for a moment. Wait… that's the same guy! He's huge, and… not so… weird I quickly looked away, not wanting him to notice me staring.
Honestly, I couldn't stop myself from staring at him again and again.
Not because he was handsome—or okay, he was handsome, with a soft, big face and light beard—but that wasn't the reason he caught my attention. It was the neon orange jacket he was wearing, shining in the classroom, and that too in the month of April. I didn't notice it then, but he looked like those characters in movies who are just there to make the audience laugh.
I couldn't help but notice how he was surrounded by other big guys—obviously not bigger than him—trying to talk to him, make him laugh, and how he just smiled and gave them a fake laugh.
This guy is mad, for sure. Otherwise, how would you explain that he called a stranger 'kiddo' and wasn't even talking properly with his own friends?
I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the class, although he was just telling the basics, which I already knew.
"Haven't we studied this last year?" the girl next to me, wearing a white embroidered midi dress, murmured.
The dress made her look like a fairy, along with her pretty face and a mole just under her left eye.
"Yeah, I was thinking the same. He's boring us," I said, trying to initiate small talk.
"Yeah, by the way, I don't think I've seen you before in any class," she said.
"How would you? I'm a new admission this year," I replied.
"But why would you transfer?" she asked, getting interested.
"Well, the students in my previous college weren't nice, so I am here," I replied, not telling her the exact reason. She didn't need to hear that.
"I'm Shreya," she said, moving her hand forward.
"Mahi," I replied, accepting her hand.
And just like that, the classes passed like seconds. Shreya was so much fun. I asked her about a lot of things—how the professors were, clubs, we exchanged our numbers and Insta ID, and most importantly, I asked her if ragging was a thing there or not.
She said, "Well, officially it isn't, but some students who aren't from rich family backgrounds do get treated badly."
I felt concerned, but she reassured me that she herself had never faced anything despite being from EWS. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, we learned that our second-last class was cancelled. Shreya suggested we go to the library, so we did.
Shreya and I sat next to each other. She already had the book she wanted to read, but I didn't, so I rose from my seat to find one myself.
I hadn't decided what I was going to read. I wandered through the shelves and finally found the perfect book: The Lean Startup by Eric Ries.
But here again, the universe had to remind me that I am… vertically challenged. Well, not exactly short—5'2" isn't short for a woman—but the book was almost three inches above my raised hand. I spotted a small step on the side and hopped onto it, lying conveniently next to me as if it knew I would need it.
Just as I reached for the book, a hand grabbed it before I could.
I looked up. It was him—the huge guy who hadn't even needed to raise his own hands fully to reach the book.
"You'll fall. Come down," he said, like we knew each other forever.
Ugh. Why was my face heating up over a perfectly normal statement? Focus, Mahi. Ignore. Pretend nothing happened.