The study hour was coming to a close when two wardens walked into the class, their rubber slippers making that familiar dragging sound across the floor. One of them cleared her throat and clapped her hands twice to get our attention.
"Listen up," she said, scanning the half-drowsy faces in front of her. "The compulsory play time from 4:30 to 5:30 is cancelled for this week. Anyone who still wants to go to the ground and play can go. But those who've given their names for the freshers' party—you can use this time to practice."
Suddenly, the silence that had blanketed the room cracked open. A low murmur started, spreading like ripples in water. Some people sat up straighter, others started whispering with their benchmates. Plans began forming mid-air.
"What are you going to do?""Should we go to the ground?""I think I'll just nap.""I'll go practice, I need to rehearse that dance."
The last ten minutes of study passed in a blur of distracted energy. Everyone was already mentally out of the classroom.
I closed my book and stretched a little, pretending to think hard about whether I wanted to join the practice or not. The truth was, I had already made up my mind—I wasn't going today. One day wouldn't make a difference.
After the bell rang, instead of the usual half-run-half-walk rush to the ground or hostel, I took my time. I stopped at the campus snack shop and picked up a couple of chip packets. Something spicy, something cheesy.
Today, I didn't feel like performing. I didn't feel like being watched or corrected or even praised. I just wanted a little silence, some crunch, and a break from everyone's expectations—including my own.
With that thought, I walked back to the hostel, slower than usual, letting my mind wander.
Before heading to the hostel, I took a small detour toward the basketball court. The sun had already started to mellow, casting soft orange streaks across the concrete. A few seniors were shooting hoops, their laughter mixing with the rhythmic thuds of the bouncing ball.
I walked up to the edge of the court and waited until the ball stopped. "Akka," I called out. One of the girls turned—it was Priya akka, the same one who teased me a few days ago. "I won't be playing today. I'm going to help my friends practice for their dance performance. But I'll definitely come tomorrow."
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to inform us, Nila. You're a fresher, not bound to the court."
I smiled, half-nodding. "Still, I didn't want to vanish without saying anything. You all are teaching me patiently. That matters to me."
Another senior chuckled from behind her. "So formal. Go, go. Enjoy your freedom today."
They waved me off, and I turned back toward the hostel. It wasn't about obedience. I wasn't scared of them—I just believed people who guide you deserve basic respect. And maybe, a bit of kindness.
When I reached my bed, the cheerful chatter of my dorm mates buzzed around me, but I didn't join. I quietly opened my cupboard, placed the chips and notebooks inside, and locked it firmly.
Lately, I was beginning to feel a strange unfamiliarity in what was supposed to be my space. After the alarm clock mishap and Shivani di's warning about someone lurking around my bed, I wasn't comfortable anymore.
What if someone "borrowed" my things in the name of a prank? What if something actually went missing? I couldn't afford to be careless—not in a place where I was just beginning to carve out peace.
Slipping into a loose kurti and my soft slippers, I set out to find Mahathi, Prerna, Pavani, and Sree Lekha. They were somewhere in the hostel, practicing their dance for the freshers' party. I wasn't part of the performance, but I liked being around them.
And truthfully? I wanted to hear music. Ever since that small chat with Nishanth in the morning, my ears had been itching for the thump of hip hop beats. Of course, I couldn't openly play music anywhere in the hostel. But dance practice zones? Now that was a loophole I could use.
I followed the echo of a Bluetooth speaker to one of the common activity rooms. When I stepped in, I saw the girls mid-discussion—no, actually mid-argument.
"No, the turn should happen on the beat drop!"
"But that makes us all crash into each other, Pavani!"
"You're not even doing it correctly, Mahathi!"
The four of them were trying to choreograph a fusion piece, but their coordination was off, and no one was ready to listen. I hovered at the doorway, unsure if I should interrupt.
"Guys," I finally said. "Can I help?"
They turned around, surprised. "Nila? You came?" Prerna asked.
"I just came to watch... maybe help a little if you need. Looks like you could use a fresh pair of eyes."
Pavani groaned. "We're stuck. Everyone's got a different opinion. Now we don't even know which song part to keep."
I took a deep breath and stepped inside, rolling up my sleeves. "Okay. Show me what you have till now."
They hesitated, then switched on the speaker. The music started—peppy, fast beats—and the four girls danced half-heartedly, missing cues and moving at different speeds.
When they paused, I clapped once. "Alright. It's not bad, just scattered. Let's count beats, align steps, and simplify transitions. You don't need thirty moves in one chorus."
They blinked at me, as if seeing me properly for the first time. "You dance?"
"A little," I shrugged. "Enough to make things less messy."
I got them into formation and walked through the steps one by one, suggesting changes where necessary. I didn't perform, just demonstrated gently and let them take over. Slowly, things began to fall into rhythm.
After half an hour, their expressions had changed. From frustration to surprise. From surprise to admiration.
Prerna came up to me after they completed one clean run-through. "We didn't know you could do this. Honestly, we should've forced you to join us."
I just smiled. "You didn't ask. I didn't offer. That's all."
They laughed, and this time, I laughed with them.
After the girls finally managed to nail their routine—at least one full set without bickering or bumping into each other—I stretched my arms and let out a sigh. "Okay, now that peace has been restored in the dance kingdom... I'm starving," I said dramatically.
The others groaned in agreement.
"I heard they have aloo bonda in the canteen today," I added, already halfway to the door. "Anyone joining?"
"Obviously!" Pavani said, flinging her towel over her shoulder.
"We'll practice again at night after dinner," Mahathi said, brushing sweat off her neck. "We need to get ready for evening study anyway."
We all made our way down to the ground floor, laughing over the random dance bloopers from earlier. The corridor was packed with a low buzz of activity—different groups moving around, some returning from sports, others heading to the library, and a few clearly hunting for snacks just like us.
As we turned the corner toward the canteen, we were greeted with a mini-spectacle—our class boys were dancing in a semi-circle under the corridor lights. It wasn't casual. They were full-on practicing.
Loud speaker. Heavy beats. Dusty shoes stomping in sync.
And there he was—Nishanth. In the centre. Doing a literal somersault, landing it smoothly, and immediately hitting a wave step.
We all froze for a second. Even I blinked. That was... impressive.
"Woohoo! Superstar spotted!" Sree Lekha called out first.
Mahathi joined in, cupping her hands like a megaphone. "Go, Nishanth! But hey, don't break your neck showing off!"
The boys stopped, laughing, clearly amused but not offended. Nishanth looked up mid-step, pushing his hair back, catching his breath. He gave a small wave toward us.
And of course—of course—that's when Pavani nudged me hard with her elbow.
"Look at your face," she whispered, grinning. "Is that admiration or love?"
"Shut up," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Sree Lekha added fuel to the fire. "You guys already have the same music taste. Same brainwave confirmed."
I tried to walk past casually, pretending I didn't hear them, but the redness in my ears definitely gave me away.
Nishanth called out, "Bonda for all of you? Save one for me, Nila."
The girls collectively gasped like we were in some low-budget rom-com.
I didn't respond—just raised an eyebrow and walked ahead like it meant nothing.