Date: January 15, 2009
Time: 12:30 PM
Location: DBSA High School, Dakshin Barasat
The notice board stood like a silent judge, indifferent to the waves of emotions it unleashed. For Aritra, the neatly typed numbers next to his name felt like scars burned into his memory—432/500, 7th rank. He stood there, motionless, long after the crowd had dispersed, his eyes still fixed on the sheet as if staring hard enough could change the outcome.
The world around him felt distant. Conversations blurred into a low hum, laughter echoed mockingly, and the bright winter sun seemed too harsh for a day like this. His chest felt hollow, as if someone had scooped out every bit of confidence he'd carried.
"Aritra, chol na, bari jete hobe." (Aritra, let's go home.) Deep's voice snapped him back to reality.
Aritra forced himself to nod. His legs felt heavy as he turned away from the notice board, each step echoing with the bitter realization that he had failed—not in the traditional sense, but in the way that mattered most to him.
Time: 1:00 PM
Location: On the Way Home, Dakshin Barasat**
The journey back was a blur. The rickety school bus that usually buzzed with chatter was now a cage of uncomfortable silence. Aritra sat by the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching the familiar streets pass by unnoticed.
His mind replayed Rimi's laughter, Anirban's smug grin, and the silent judgment in the eyes of his classmates. But none of it hurt as much as the thought of facing his parents.
What will Baba say?
What will Ma think?
His hands trembled slightly, hidden in the pockets of his school trousers.
Time: 2:00 PM
Location: Naskar Household, Dakshin Barasat**
The small house felt colder than usual, the walls closing in as he pushed the door open. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly, unaware of the storm Aritra carried inside. The familiar aroma of mustard oil and fried vegetables filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the knot in his stomach.
She looked up, her face brightening for a brief second. "Ki holo? Kemon holo result?" (How was it? How did your result go?)
Aritra's throat felt dry. He wanted to lie, to escape the crushing weight of disappointment. But he simply handed her the report card, his eyes fixed on the floor.
Her smile faded as her eyes scanned the marks. Silence hung heavily between them, broken only by the soft rustle of paper.
Then came the words—sharp, unfiltered.
"432? This is what you've studied for? 7th rank?"
She didn't shout, but her disappointment was louder than any scream.
Aritra's father entered the room, his brows furrowed as he took the report card from her hands. His face hardened with each passing second.
"Tui 2nd chhile. Ekhon 7th? Ki korchis saradinn? Laptop e Video game khelichis?" (You were 2nd. Now 7th? What have you been doing all this time? Playing video games in Laptop?)
Aritra tried to explain, but the words stuck in his throat. What could he say? That he had tried his best? That sleepless nights and endless revisions weren't enough? That fear had gripped him harder than knowledge?
But none of that mattered. All they saw were the numbers.
His father's voice grew louder, his frustration boiling over.
"We don't have a son like you in this family. Always wasting time, not studying."
The words hit harder than any slap.
Aritra stood there, his heart shattering silently.
Time: 5:00 PM
Location: Aritra's Bedroom**
He locked himself in his room, sinking onto the floor beside his bed. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him with memories of failure. The report card lay crumpled in the corner, a tangible reminder of everything he wasn't.
His mind raced with thoughts—anger, shame, regret. But above all, a question that refused to leave:
Am I really a failure?
Tears welled up, but he wiped them away angrily. Weakness wasn't an option. Not anymore.
The faint glow of his laptop screen caught his eye. The Legendary System icon blinked softly, waiting.
Maybe it was time to stop trying to meet expectations and start rewriting them.