MUMAL was in her second year of college, and she was rarely alone.
She had friends—different, loud, quiet, strange—but somehow balanced.
KHUSI (was always the first one people noticed. Attractive, confident, and endlessly talkative. She could turn any small incident into a long story and enjoyed being the center of attention.)
SOFIYA, (almost always carrying a book. Devoted to her studies, disciplined, and serious about her future. While others talked, Sofiya read. While others joked, she revised.)
ZOYA (sat with them too—sharp-tongued, blunt, and proudly kanjoos. She never missed a chance to comment on others, often sounding mean without realizing it.
)
And then there was PRAKRITI—simple, innocent, and scared of almost everything. Exams, teachers, dogs,thunder… even sudden noises. She followed the group quietly, trusting them more than herself.)
Mumal fit somewhere in between all of them. She listened. She smiled. She observed.
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During breaks, they usually sat in the college garden, under the shade of old trees. Books lay scattered around them, snacks passed from hand to hand. Khusi talked, Sofiya read, Zoya complained, Prakriti worried, and Mumal
watched it all with a soft smile.
Life felt easy there.
On the other side of the campus, MAHIR spent most of his time with his own group.
MANAN, (calm and steady, spoke less but understood more.)
SAMEER, (mature yet always joking, could turn anyserious moment into laughter.)
RAJIV (stayed buried in books, carrying the quiet pressure of a wealthy family and
high expectations. )
SHASHANK noticed everything and everyone a little too closely.
They were seniors now. Almost done with college.
Mahir usually walked with them, hands in his pockets, listening more than talking.
One afternoon, while passing by the garden, his eyes drifted—just for a second.
He saw a group of girls sitting together, laughter mixing with sunlight.
One of them sat quietly among the noise.
Mumal.
She was smiling at something Khusi said, completely unaware of who passed by.
Mahir didn't stop. Didn't turn back.
He simply noticed.And walked on.
Mumal continued her day the same way she always did—walking straight ahead, focused on her path, unaware
that someone had quietly registered her presence.
For now, it meant nothing.
But every story begins somewhere.