28. Time Tables and Letters

After returning from breakfast, we all walked back into the classroom, chatting quietly as the corridor buzzed with excitement. Nila chose her earlier spot again, near the window, in the second row. The morning sun streamed in softly, warming the side of her face as she settled in. Jai Harini followed and took the seat beside her without hesitation, her face still flushed from the short walk. Behind them sat Pavani and Sree Lekha, both from the same hostel bay as Nila but from Andhra Pradesh. Though we had just met, there was already a sense of familiarity growing between them.

In front of Nila sat Amrita, a studious Tamil girl who seemed deeply engrossed in arranging her stationery. Next to Amrita was Prerna, a lively girl from Bihar, already flipping through her notebook with determined energy. Just by observing her new classmates, Nila could tell this was going to be an interesting mix.

The class teacher arrived soon after, calling everyone to attention. "Settle down, students!" she said, her voice calm but firm. Everyone quickly moved to their seats—no confusion, no delays. It was impressive how smoothly things went, considering it was only the first day.

Boys had automatically chosen the row of benches near the door on the left side of the classroom, while the girls had taken the right side near the windows. There was no formal seating rule announced yet, but it was an unspoken tradition in this school, especially from 9th grade onward, that boys and girls wouldn't be allowed to sit together. Many students had heard about it through their hostel seniors the night before, and everyone had adjusted accordingly, hoping the seating wouldn't be shuffled later.

The class teacher smiled. "So, do you all like your seats? Or should I assign them?"

A chorus of voices rose immediately—"No, ma'am! We're happy with this!"

Laughing gently, the teacher nodded. "Alright. I'll let you keep the places you've chosen—but remember, this will be your permanent seating for the rest of the academic year. After a semester, I'll review if it's working well. If I notice any disturbance, poor performance, or complaints, I will change the seats without asking. So if you want to keep sitting with your friends, make sure you stay disciplined."

Nila glanced around. Everyone looked pleased and slightly relieved. It felt like the class had silently agreed to cooperate—for now, at least. 

"Okay, since this is your first day, there won't be any regular classes," the class teacher announced, standing at the front of the room with a small bundle of papers in her hand. "Today is all about getting to know each other, submitting your documents, and settling into the classroom. From tomorrow onwards, your official timetable begins and classes will start."

There was a quiet ripple of excitement through the class—no classes today meant a slightly extended holiday feeling. Everyone sat up a little straighter, ready to listen.

"First, let's talk about your language options," the teacher continued. "You can choose between Tamil, Hindi, Sanskrit, and French. This will be your second language, and based on your choice, you'll be shifted to a different classroom only during that one period. For all other subjects, you'll remain in your current class. The language teachers will come to your section for Tamil. Only those opting for Hindi, French, or Sanskrit will have to go to the respective classrooms."

Some students started whispering, already discussing what they might choose. Nila looked around and smiled. Even these small choices felt exciting in a new environment.

"Now for your subjects," the teacher said, unfolding the printed timetable. "You'll have English and your chosen second language, Mathematics, Science—which includes Physics, Chemistry, and Biology—and Social Science, which includes History, Geography, Economics, and Political Science. You'll also have one period every week for Physical Education. During that time, you'll head to the ground. I advise you to reach the ground early if you want to enjoy the full 40 minutes of games."

Some of the students grinned, clearly looking forward to PE. Nila was one of them. After a long year of exam stress in her past life, she welcomed any chance to stretch and play.

"You will also have Computer Science," the teacher added. "This will mostly be handled in the computer lab, so don't forget to bring a pen drive or take notes regularly."

She then placed the bundle of documents on the table and said, "Now, I need everyone to submit the required registration documents. Please bring a photocopy of your last report card, your Transfer Certificate from the previous school, and three passport-size photographs. Once you submit everything, come and tell me your second language choice so I can finalize your records."

The room shifted into motion as students began gathering their papers.

After submitting the documents, a few of us grouped up and walked towards the notice board to jot down our timetable, which had been pinned up neatly on the board. Time seemed to move like water slipping through fingers—before we realized, three periods had passed just like that. We hadn't even officially begun classes, and yet the day was moving quickly.

I remembered something suddenly. "It's break time," I said, glancing at the clock. "We'll probably get some drink—maybe badam milk, rasna, or lassi—in the auditorium." I called out to a few girls sitting nearby and we made our way across the corridor together, giggling as we went.

That day, it was Rasna. A student favorite. Cold, tangy, sweet. The drink that brought smiles to even the most nervous faces. We took our cups and sat for a few minutes, enjoying the short break and getting to know each other better. Ten minutes flew by in easy chatter and laughter.

When we returned to class, our teacher clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "It's time to collect your textbooks. Please bring the book fee receipt and the checklist you received during admission."

One by one, we lined up, documents in hand. The book depot was on the ground floor, a small but organized room with shelves lined with stacks of fresh, untouched textbooks. We waited outside the corridor in rows—girls on one side, boys on the other.

As we waited, I noticed some boys trying to make conversation. It wasn't awkward, but surprising. I hadn't expected anyone to be this friendly so soon. I spoke with Vishwa, Hemant, and Ishanth—names that would become a part of my story. Ishanth, especially, held a strange place in my memory. In my past life, he had become one of my closest friends. Our bond lasted a decade, surviving school, college, even distance. Seeing him now, unaware of the connection we once shared, gave me a strange sense of comfort and nostalgia.

As the line inched forward, I remembered I needed to send my letters. I had them ready—carefully written, neatly packed in envelopes with stamps stuck in place. Letters to Amma and Appa. I had always loved writing letters in my past life. It was one of the few ways I had held on to sincerity.

I made my way to the reception. It was a small area near the office block, usually used to hand over or collect parcels. The staff there was surprised when I asked, "Sir, can I send letters from here?"

He looked at me, puzzled, then smiled. "Students don't usually send anything. Only the office sends couriers. You want to send letters?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Just letters to my parents."

His smile widened. "You're the first student to ask this in a long time. People don't write letters anymore. It's nice. Yes, I'll make sure they get sent."

As I turned to leave, my heart full, I froze.

There he was—Nishanth.

My first crush from my last life.