Date: July 9, 2008 (Wednesday, 9:00 AM)
Location: Dakshin Barasat High School
The morning sun peeked lazily over the rooftops of Dakshin Barasat, casting a soft, golden hue that failed to match the enthusiasm—or lack thereof—radiating from Aritra Naskar's room. He stood in front of his small, slightly cracked mirror, adjusting his school uniform, which had developed permanent creases from his unique "iron-by-folding" technique. His white shirt wasn't exactly crisp, but it was clean enough to pass inspection, and that was what mattered.
Aritra glanced at the clock, sighed dramatically, and stuffed his books into his bag with the precision of someone who didn't care about precision. His bag was more of a portable black hole than an organized container, where pens disappeared into the abyss and notes mysteriously crumpled themselves.
Ma appeared at the door, her hands on her hips. "Eat your bananas, Aritra. They're good for your brain."
Aritra groaned but grabbed two bananas, shoving one into his mouth and the other into his bag. "I'm pretty sure my brain doesn't need potassium to survive math class, Ma."
"Don't forget your water bottle!" she shouted as he stepped outside.
"As if dehydration is lurking around the corner waiting to ambush me," he muttered, grabbing the bottle anyway.
The Journey to School
With his trusty bicycle, Aritra pedaled through the familiar streets of Dakshin Barasat. The morning breeze slapped him awake, ruffling his hair more effectively than any comb ever had. The roads were alive with the usual chaos—cows claiming prime spots in the middle of the street, rickshaws zigzagging like they were in a slow-motion car chase, and local aunties gossiping louder than the market vendors.
Reaching the school gates at 10:30 AM, he parked his cycle in the overcrowded bike stand, where bikes leaned against each other like exhausted marathon runners. The school bell hadn't rung yet, so students clustered in groups—some revising, some gossiping, and others just pretending to be busy.
Spotting his friends, Deep Halder and Arnab Das, near the school gate, Aritra walked over, his bag slung over one shoulder.
"Oi, Mr. Corporate Tycoon," Deep greeted, smirking. "Back to the commoners' world?"
"Yeah, thought I'd grace you peasants with my presence," Aritra shot back.
Arnab chimed in, "Careful, Aritra. If you become too rich, you'll start thinking the school's ceiling fans are for decoration."
They burst into laughter, drawing curious glances from other students.
First Period - Mathematics with Mr. Bhattacharya
Topic: Differential Calculus
The bell rang, dragging them into the classroom like reluctant soldiers heading to battle. Mr. Bhattacharya, their math teacher, walked in, his bald head gleaming under the flickering tube light. His expression was as cheerful as a tax auditor during the financial year-end.
"Good morning, class," he droned, adjusting his thick, outdated spectacles.
"Good morning, Sir," the class replied in unison, with all the enthusiasm of a Monday morning alarm.
"Today, we'll begin with Differential Calculus," he announced, turning to the blackboard with a piece of chalk that squeaked like it was protesting its existence.
Aritra whispered to Arnab, "If boredom had a face, it would be Mr. Bhattacharya explaining limits."
Arnab snorted, earning both of them a sharp glance from the teacher.
"Aritra Naskar," Mr. Bhattacharya snapped, "since you find this amusing, why don't you come to the board and solve this?"
Sighing dramatically, Aritra walked up to the board. The equation read:
limx→0sinxx\lim_{x \to 0} \frac{\sin x}{x}x→0limxsinx
Aritra picked up the chalk and solved it effortlessly, adding a theatrical flourish at the end by underlining the answer twice.
"See, Sir? Limit reached—both mathematically and mentally," he quipped.
The class chuckled, but Mr. Bhattacharya wasn't amused. "Sit down, Mr. Naskar. Maybe next time, you'll limit your jokes."
Back at his seat, Aritra muttered, "And that's how you integrate humor with math."
Second Period - Physics with Mr. Das
Topic: Laws of Motion
Mr. Das entered next, carrying a stack of notebooks that seemed heavier than his enthusiasm. His unkempt hair and thick-rimmed glasses made him look like he belonged in a physics lab rather than a classroom filled with half-asleep teenagers.
"Today, we'll discuss Newton's Laws of Motion," he announced, pulling out a dusty pendulum from his bag like it was an ancient relic.
Aritra leaned over to Arnab, whispering, "I swear that pendulum's been swinging since Newton discovered gravity."
Mr. Das's radar-like hearing caught him mid-whisper. "Aritra, since you're so fascinated, come here and demonstrate the first law."
Standing up dramatically, Aritra walked to the front.
"Newton's First Law states that an object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion—like students during lunch break," he said, earning another round of laughter.
Mr. Das cracked a rare smile. "At least you understand the concept. Now, show the actual demonstration."
Aritra picked up the pendulum and gave it a gentle push, explaining how inertia kept it swinging. Despite the jokes, he nailed the explanation, leaving Mr. Das mildly impressed.
Lunch Break - The Great Escape
At 1:30 PM, the lunch bell rang—the sweetest sound of the day. Students burst out of classrooms like prisoners on parole, flooding the corridors with laughter and the aroma of homemade lunches.
Aritra, Deep, Arnab, and Rimi gathered under their favorite banyan tree. Rimi balanced her tiffin box with the grace of someone used to having an audience.
"So, Aritra, how's life as the class clown?" Rimi teased, unwrapping her lunch.
"Better than being the teacher's favorite," he shot back.
Deep grinned. "Careful, Rimi. Aritra might start charging for his jokes soon."
They shared food, swapped stories, and laughed about everything—from school gossip to Aritra's imaginary plans to open a Wi-Fi-enabled tiffin service.
"One day," Aritra declared dramatically, "I'll be so rich that even my tiffin will have Bluetooth."
Arnab nearly choked on his food from laughing. "You'll be the first person to pair rice with curry via Bluetooth."
Third Period - Chemistry with Mr. Saha
Topic: The Solid State
Back in the classroom, Mr. Saha stood like a sentinel near the blackboard. Known for his monotone voice, he had the unique ability to turn even the most explosive reactions into sleep aids.
"Today, we'll continue with The Solid State," he announced, drawing complex lattice structures with chalk that screeched like nails on a chalkboard.
Aritra whispered to Deep, "Solid state? More like solid sleep."
Mr. Saha's ears twitched. "Aritra, differentiate between amorphous and crystalline solids."
Aritra stood up, feigning seriousness. "Amorphous solids are like my handwriting—no clear structure. Crystalline solids are like Rajib's notes—perfectly organized but painfully rigid."
The class burst into laughter. Even Mr. Saha cracked a reluctant smile.
"Well, at least you're not completely lost," he muttered, waving Aritra back to his seat.
Fourth Period - Bengali with Mrs. Ghosh
Topic: Rabindranath Tagore's Essays
Mrs. Ghosh entered with a collection of Tagore's works, her passion for Bengali literature evident in her animated expressions.
"Today, we'll read Tagore's essay on the simplicity of rural life," she announced.
Aritra whispered, "If Tagore saw our school lunches, he'd write an essay on survival."
Mrs. Ghosh, ignoring the whisper, began reading with such dramatic flair that even Aritra listened quietly—partly impressed, partly afraid she'd assign extra homework if he joked.
Fifth Period - English with Ms. Sen
Topic: Julius Caesar
The final class of the day belonged to Ms. Sen, whose sarcasm was as sharp as her grammar corrections.
"Today, we'll discuss Mark Antony's speech," she announced, her eyes scanning the room for a victim.
"Aritra, perform the speech," she said, not even pretending it was random.
Aritra stood, dramatically clearing his throat.
"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your… tiffin boxes."
The class erupted with laughter.
Ms. Sen shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Sit down, Mr. Naskar. You'll either be a comedian or a revolutionary."
The Final Bell
At 4:30 PM, the bell rang, signaling freedom. Aritra and his friends gathered their books, exchanging looks of mutual survival.
"We made it," Arnab sighed.
"Barely," Aritra replied. "I think my brain reached solid state during chemistry."
They laughed, stepping into the warm afternoon sun, ready to face another day of chaos, curiosity, and camaraderie.