83.My Work, My Way

When I got back to the hostel, I didn't bother chatting with anyone, just changed directly into sportswear. I just dropped my books, tied up my hair, and headed straight to the basketball court.

I didn't care about anything else.

Playing regularly wasn't just about trying to enter the team—it helped me stay fit, clear my head, and feel like myself. And spending time with the seniors on the court always made me happy. They were already in 10th grade, more academically focused now, but still kind and encouraging to the juniors.

In my last life, I used to think that academic marks alone were enough. And maybe, in most Indian colleges, that's true—board exam scores are the first filter. But when you want to go abroad? Or when you dream of something beyond the usual paths? They ask about your hobbies, your sports, your internships, your leadership roles. They want to see who you are, not just what you can score.

Till 8th grade in my last life, I was well-rounded. Good in academics, decent in sports, and I had hobbies—music, dance, and of course, writing. But after I joined this new school, something changed. The environment was different. Students were encouraged to push themselves only in academics. Nobody really clapped for someone who danced well or played a sport unless it brought the school a trophy.

And me? I didn't know how to ask for help. I didn't know who to approach for permission to pursue activities beyond the classroom. I was afraid to speak up. I buried my interests. Slowly, I stopped playing, stopped singing, stopped dancing, and eventually, I even stopped writing.

That won't happen this time.

This life—I've promised myself—I won't be afraid. If something doesn't exist, I'll ask about it. If no one knows the answer, I'll find out. If something is missing, I'll create it.

That's why I started Student Voice. Indian schools rarely have active extracurricular clubs, but I wanted one on my CV. More than that, I wanted a space for students like me—who want to express themselves, who want their voice heard. A place for creativity, collaboration, and community.

I wasn't even a basketball player in my last life. I didn't even consider trying. But now that I have a great coach and a team that's willing to train with me, I want to make the most of it. I want to learn this game, even if I'm starting from scratch.

I want to relearn Hindi and Chinese, polish my French, and become multilingual—not to show off, but because I want to travel the world someday. Language opens doors. And this time, I'm going to walk through every single one of them.

I want to improve myself—not just compared to others—but compared to the girl I was in my last life. I was 25 when I faced death. Twenty-five. So young, and yet so full of regrets. But now? I've got more than 10 years ahead of me. Ten years to rewrite my story, to reimagine my future.

These four years of school are everything.

I need to relearn all the skills I once had. Sharpen them. Build more. Be braver. Smarter. Kinder.

This is my chance. A better starting point. A second chance people don't even dream of getting. And I'm not going to waste it.

I played that evening till I was breathless. The ball thudded on the court, my shoes squeaked as I ran, and laughter from the seniors filled the air.

And as I shot another basket—missing again, but closer than before—I smiled.

Because this time, I won't let fear stop me.

This time, I'll do it all.

After games, I freshened up quickly, packed my things, and went downstairs to wait in line for the walk to the school block. Just as I found a quiet spot to stand and breathe, Prerna walked over, looking unusually serious.

"Hey, Nila… can you give me your science assignment?" she asked casually. "Mine's still incomplete."

"I've already submitted it in class today," I replied.

She frowned. "You don't have any xerox or at least the notes you used to write it?"

I shook my head. "Sorry. I didn't work from any notes or draft. I referred to the textbook and used some reference books from the library. I directly wrote the final version."

Her expression changed in an instant. "If you don't want to share your assignment with me, you could've just said so. No need to make up excuses."

I blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me? I don't need to come up with reasons to avoid sharing something. When I say I don't have any reference material, I mean it."

Before I could say more, Mahathi walked over, sensing the tension. "What's going on?"

Prerna jumped in first. "Since Nila finished her science assignment, I just asked to borrow her work so I could copy it and submit mine. But she's giving me weird excuses not to share it."

"It's not an excuse," I interrupted. "I really don't have anything to give. Mahathi, you were there when I was writing it—you even lent me those decorated sheets for inspiration."

Mahathi nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember. She didn't use any printed material or notes. Just her textbook and library books."

I sighed. "Exactly. I've already submitted the final assignment. I returned the library book too. There's nothing left."

Prerna folded her arms, clearly not convinced. "Who even uses books these days? Everyone just downloads content from the internet, takes a printout, and copies it in neat handwriting."

"Just because it's the easy way doesn't mean it's the only way," I said firmly. "And I don't owe you an explanation on how I complete my work."

"Calm down, you two," Mahathi said quickly. "Prerna, I saw her doing the work. She didn't use printouts. Let's not fight over this."

But Prerna huffed, turned around, and stomped away. Mahathi followed her, trying to pacify her. A few minutes later, Pavani, Amritha, and Sree Lekha came down from the hostel and caught up with Prerna.

Meanwhile, Sastika and Jai Harini walked up to me, their faces curious. "What happened?" they asked together.

I was still fuming. "She asked for my assignment to copy. When I told her I didn't have anything left to share, she basically accused me of making excuses. I mean, seriously? I've shared everything before—books, notes, stationery—whenever any of you needed anything, have I ever said no?"

They both shook their heads, listening intently.

"And now she's acting like I'm being selfish because I didn't hand her something I don't even have anymore. The assignment was due today, and I submitted mine. Why is it suddenly my fault that she didn't complete hers?"

"She shouldn't have reacted like that," Jai Harini said, trying to calm me down.

"Exactly!" I continued. "She didn't even try to do the work herself. Just because I worked early and used effort doesn't mean she gets to be angry at me."

Sastika gently placed a hand on my shoulder. "Let it go, Nila. She's probably just frustrated and taking it out on you."

I nodded slowly. "I know. I'll just stay away from her for a bit—at least until she calms down and stops acting entitled."

The girls walked with me to the study hall. We settled down for our evening pranayama and a five-minute meditation before study time. As I sat there, closing my eyes and focusing on my breath, I let go of the lingering frustration. I didn't want to carry anyone's negativity with me into the rest of the night.

Once study time began, I pulled out my notebook and made a simple checklist. I went over every subject one by one. Science assignment—submitted. Social science—no announcements yet. English—done. French homework—submitted in the morning. Maths—revision pending.

I didn't want to be caught off guard again or punished for something as simple as forgetting homework. I'd worked hard to stay on track, and I wasn't going to let someone else's anger throw me off balance.

Let her be angry, I thought to myself. I have better things to focus on.

And as I ticked off the last box on my list for the day, I felt a quiet kind of peace settle in.