As I was gazing out the window, lost in thought, the sharp ring of the school bell snapped me back to reality. It was time for the school prayer. The familiar sound stirred a mix of nostalgia and routine in me. Before I could react, Yash leaned over and said, "Hari, let's go."
I nodded, watching as everyone in the classroom got up from their seats and began heading towards the school ground. The usual shuffle of footsteps filled the air as students from different classes started forming their lines. Every class had two lines—one for boys, one for girls—and it was always the same order, no matter the day. Yash and I walked toward the back of our class line, blending into the crowd of students preparing for the morning routine.
Just as we reached our spot, Yash, out of nowhere, shoved me forward. "What the hell?" I muttered, stumbling a little as I regained my balance.
"What the fuck are you doing? Why'd you push me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him, annoyed but not entirely surprised.
Hearing my question, Yash's expression shifted to one of mild panic. "P.T. Sir is checking uniforms today. And guess what? I forgot to wear my tie," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.
I frowned. "Then why didn't you wear it? Don't you think he's going to check my hair too?"
Yash shrugged, looking sheepish. "I didn't know he was checking today. Swara told me to let you know. I figured you could handle him just fine, but I'm in trouble. He's going to tear me apart!"
I rolled my eyes. "When did she tell you this?"
Yash's face turned a shade redder. "When you were staring out the window, daydreaming."
As the school prayer began, Yash and I stood in line, focusing on the ritual while I wrestled with how to handle P.T. Sir's scrutiny. The prayer came to an end, and students started to shuffle toward their classrooms.
With our turn approaching, Yash leaned in, whispering, "Hey Hari, have you figured out how we're going to avoid P.T. Sir?"
I gave him a sharp look. "Just stay behind me and keep quiet."
Yash nodded, his expression reflecting his anxiety, and we proceeded. As the line moved forward, the moment of truth arrived. We found ourselves standing in front of P.T. Sir, who was examining us with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Ah, it's two of our star students from class 8th (A), Hari and Yash," P.T. Sir said, his smile broad.
We remained silent, trying not to draw attention. P.T. Sir's gaze shifted to me. "Hari, I see you're wearing a proper uniform today. That's a pleasant surprise. But your hair—it's still the same, isn't it?" P.T. Sir then turned his attention to Yash. "And Yash, where's your tie?"
Hearing P.T. Sir's question directed at Yash, I quickly interjected with a smile. "Sir, Yash and I have decided to make some changes from today onward, but adjustments take time. And don't you think I look rather smart with long hair?"
P.T. Sir scrutinized me for a moment before responding. "Indeed, you do look smart, but you can't disregard the school's rules."
I maintained my smile. "We understand that, Sir, and we're working on it. Could we go now, please?"
P.T. Sir eyed me for a beat longer, his expression softening. After a moment, he nodded with a hint of a smile. "Alright, you may go."
I exhaled in relief and quickly walked with Yash back to our classroom. As we reached the door, Yash turned to me with a look of disbelief. "Hari, I never understand the mystery of why every teacher lets you off the hook without punishment."
I playfully ruffled my hair and grinned. "It's because I'm irresistibly charming, of course. Who can resist a handsome face like mine?"
Yash laughed, shaking his head. "Handsome? You're full of yourself, Hari. Don't make me laugh."
As Yash laughed at my comment, I gazed out at the sky, completely absorbed in the moment. Unknown to me, our classmates were watching us with curious eyes, hanging on to every word of our conversation.
With a confident and almost theatrical smile, I said, "Remember this, Yash: one day I'll be standing before millions of people, Those people shouting my name just to catch a glimpse of me, their cheers echoing as they witness the birth of one and only GOAT—the Great Of All Time. A legend who has never appeared before and won't again."
I turned to look at Yash, who was staring at me, stunned into silence. Noticing the astonished expressions on Swara's face and the others, I thought, 'Damn, did my charm really affect them?'
To break the spell and ease the tension, I quickly added, "Just kidding! Did you guys like my joke?"
The classroom returned to its usual buzz as they snapped back to reality. Swara's face had turned a noticeable shade of red, but I chose to ignore her, focusing instead on Yash. He looked back at me, still processing what he had just heard.
"Bro," Yash said, shaking his head in disbelief, "for a moment, I actually started to believe every word you said. What the hell? Don't pull jokes like that again."
I chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hahaha, don't worry. But what did you think of my dialogue? Was it good?"
Yash cracked a smile and nodded. "Actually, it was really good."
I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "Thanks, man." With that, we both headed into the classroom.
As Yash and I sat comfortably in our seats, enjoying the brief quiet before class, the door swung open, and a middle-aged woman entered the room. It was Kulkarni ma'am, our class teacher She taught us Sanskrit. The room instantly straightened up as we all stood to greet her. "Good morning, ma'am," echoed through the classroom.
She nodded, a calm expression on her face, and gestured for us to sit down. We followed her cue, settling back into our bench's as she made her way to her desk, seating herself gracefully before beginning to call out attendance.
When my turn came, her voice rang out, "Roll number 21."
I responded quickly, "Present, ma'am."
But instead of just moving on, she paused, lifting her head to look directly at me. "Gadkari," she said, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity. "When I first entered the room, for a second, I thought you were absent today. What's the matter? Why did you 'quit' being your usual self today?"
Her question hung in the air, and I could feel the eyes of every single person in the classroom on me. 'Why do they always have to stare?' I thought to myself, feeling the familiar weight of attention. But I stood up from my seat, offering her a casual smile.
"I decided to change, Ma'am. New year, new start," I said, keeping my tone light.
There was a brief pause, the kind that felt like it stretched forever. Kulkarni Ma'am raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my answer. Kulkarni Ma'am nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good, good. I can see that you've decided to change. Let's hope this change reflects on your marksheet as well."
I gave her a confident nod, smiling back. "Of course, Ma'am."
She chuckled softly and leaned back in her chair. "Next month, our 20-mark exam is coming up. We'll see how much you've improved by then."
I nodded again, ready to sit back down, thinking the moment had passed. But just as I was about to lower myself into my seat, she smiled, an almost mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Hari, since you've decided to change, why don't you sit here in the front?" She pointed at the first bench in the second row, right in front of her. I followed her gaze and immediately felt a jolt of panic.
"No, no, I mean, I'm comfortable here!" I said, my voice a little too quick, my smile wavering. The backbench was my sanctuary.
But Kulkarni Ma'am wasn't having it. Her smile widened, and she gave me a knowing look. "How can that be, Hari? If my student wants to improve himself, shouldn't I help him? Come on, take the seat here. It'll be good for you."
Seeing that I had no other option, I sighed, picked up my bag, and glanced at Yash. He was trying his best to stifle his laughter, his shoulders shaking as he held it in. 'This traitor,' I thought, But if I was going down, I wasn't going alone.
An idea popped into my head. Smiling sweetly at Kulkarni Ma'am, I said, "Ma'am, Yash was just telling me how he also wants to change. He'd love to sit with me in the front too."
Yash's face twisted in shock. He looked at me as if I'd just sold him out to the police. Kulkarni Ma'am, though, seemed genuinely pleased. "Oh, that's wonderful! Yash, come sit here as well."
I turned to Yash with a victorious smile. He stared at me in disbelief, his eyes wide. "Why did you do that?" he whispered, as if I had betrayed our sacred backbench alliance.
I leaned in, still smiling, and whispered back, "I couldn't let you sit back here enjoying the show, now, could I? How could I leave you behind?"
Yash looked like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him, his expression drained as if his very soul had been ripped from his body. Kulkarni Ma'am then told the students currently seated on the front bench to switch with us. As they packed up and headed to the back, Yash and I stood up and trudged toward our new spot—right in front of her desk.
To make matters worse, this bench was near Swara. I glanced at her, and, for a brief moment, she caught my eye before quickly looking away. Great. Just what I needed—more attention.
As we reached the bench, I turned to Yash and whispered, "You sit on that side of the bench."
Yash leaned over, whispering in a low, urgent tone, "You want me to sit near her? No way, man. I'm not risking it. Have you forgotten how sharp her tongue is? She'll roast me alive if I sit there. You started this mess, now you deal with it."
I sighed, resigning myself to the situation. "Fine, fine. I'll take the hit this time." With a dramatic sigh, I slid onto the bench next to Swara.
As I sat down, I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was… cute, no denying that. Her eyes were focused on the book in front of her, her hair neatly tied back. Despite her intimidating reputation, I had never personally had any issues with her. In fact, she had barely spoken to me before. So why was everyone so terrified of her? Maybe they were exaggerating, or maybe she just had a sharp wit that some people couldn't handle.
Lost in thought, I snapped back to reality when Kulkarni Ma'am finished taking attendance. She looked up, her eyes scanning the room. "Now, open your books," she said, her voice commanding yet gentle.
Everyone shuffled to pull out their Sanskrit textbooks, the sound of pages turning filling the room. I glanced at Yash, hoping he might have brought his Sanskrit book. I'd left mine at home this morning to lighten my bag, but Yash was pointedly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in something outside the window.
Realizing I was in a bind, I sighed and turned to Kulkarni Ma'am, who was now directing her attention towards us. She spotted our predicament immediately and turned to Swara. "Swara, can you please lend your books to these two idiots?"
Swara's face remained impassive as she nodded and reached over to hand me a textbook. I accepted it with a grateful smile. "Thanks for this," I said, hoping to break the ice a bit.
She gave me a quick, uninterested look before turning her attention back to the student next to her, as if I hadn't spoken at all. It was strange. She could be so vocal with others, but with me, she was almost entirely silent. I wondered if I had somehow offended her, or if there was just some unspoken rule about interacting with her. Regardless, I decided not to dwell on it and focused on the book.
Kulkarni Ma'am began her lesson, her voice steady and authoritative as she delved into the intricacies of the language.
Swara, worked diligently on her own notes. Every now and then, I could see her peeking at my page—whether out of curiosity or simply to check if I was keeping up, I wasn't sure.
As the day progressed, my mind couldn't help but wander to the significant events unfolding in 2014. The announcement of General election on March 5, 2014, and the start of voting on April 7, 2014. The Indian general election was a turning point, with the BJP, led by Narendra Modi, on the brink of a historic victory. This was the year when the Congress party faced its most crushing defeat, and the BJP's alliance with the Shiv Sena reshaped Maharashtra's political landscape, with Devendra Fadnavis stepping in as Chief Minister. The magnitude of these changes was immense, but my current position—back in 8th grade—seemed to put me in a spectator's role rather than a player.
The significance of these political shifts weighed on me. The thought of how they would unfold and their long-term impact was both fascinating and daunting. I felt a pang of frustration, realizing that despite my knowledge of these pivotal moments, my ability to influence or even participate in them was limited by my current circumstances. Here I was, navigating the intricacies of school life while the world around me was on the cusp of transformation. It was both exhilarating and disheartening to be aware of such events without the power to affect them.
Another thing that would shake this year was the massive flooding in Pune, caused by heavy rains in August 2014. I remembered it vividly. The chaos, the damaged infrastructure, homes washed away in the torrents—it was a tough time for everyone in the city. Thankfully, I still had some time before that, enough to prepare if needed.
But the flood wasn't the only storm I anticipated. 2014 was a landmark year in music too, with Arijit Singh's rise to stardom. His soulful voice dominated the Bollywood charts, and his songs became anthems for an entire generation. The Filmfare Awards, the IIFA Awards—everywhere you looked, music was in the air. This was the perfect year for music. The industry was evolving, and it seemed like the best opportunity for me to step into it. If I played my cards right, I could ride this wave and leave my mark.
I could introduce future songs now, make them my own, and potentially change the landscape of music before these songs even existed. The thought of performing something that hadn't yet been made, yet knowing how iconic they'd become, sent a thrill through me. I could create my own music, push boundaries. But I knew I needed to be smart about it. Jumping in without a solid plan could backfire.
What I needed now was to start a business—small, something manageable. I had the knowledge, the ideas, and the vision. But first, I needed access to the internet.
Once school was over, the first thing I'd do was ask my father if he could buy me a laptop. He might be hesitant, but if I framed it right—maybe saying it would help with my studies—I could convince him. After all, he knew how much the world was moving toward technology, even if I couldn't explain my real intentions to him.
With the laptop, I could map out my next moves, get access to the tools I needed, and start working on my ideas. But for now, I had to be patient. I'd start small—convincing my father about the laptop. That was step one. Once I had that, the rest would fall into place.
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