Nighttime
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Sneha's Room
Sneha lies silently on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with still eyes, as if searching for the answer to some invisible question. A familiar heaviness presses down on her chest-the weight of known sorrow. The events of the school day replay in her mind one after another. Today, the girls in her class said particularly cruel things about her-especially Ria. And the reason behind it all was Anurag Sir.
Because of Anurag Sir, the girls have started to hate Sneha even more.
Sometimes, their spiteful words cut so deep that they leave lasting marks on the walls of the heart.
Now, tiny waves of silent tears are rising in her chest-quiet, soundless-but burning all the same.
She closes her eyes in search of a little peace, but the voice of pain keeps returning.
Tonight, her heart is filled with a strange mix of hurt pride and shame.
---
Medha's Room
Medha too lies on her bed. A quiet smile plays on her lips, and her eyes shimmer with dreams.
She keeps replaying the day in her mind-Anirban Sir's voice, the moment their eyes met, and those small words of praise-everything trembles gently in her memory. A teenage heart fills with colorful imagination in moments like these.
Though lying still, she is talking to herself-
"Did Sir really notice how attentively I was listening to him today?"
A soft, warm feeling wraps around her body. She feels as though she's lying within a dream, and in that dream, every breath she takes is filled with Anirban Sir's praise.
---
Both are in bed. Both have their eyes open, yet their minds are in opposite worlds.
One heart feels heavy, the other is light and soaring-
This is how two opposite shades of a teenage heart stay awake side by side in a single night.
---
---
---
That Afternoon at Medha's School
The afternoon was strangely quiet. Outside the window, shafts of light like blooming kashful fell softly across the school field. It was the seventh period-Physics class. The students were tired, somewhat worn out. But Medha-she was unusually quiet today, and strangely alert. Because today was Anirban Sir's class.
Medha hated studying. Poor grades, notebooks filled with red marks, and the constant tone of disappointment in her parents' voices-these were part of her daily life.
She was a thin, short, frail girl-like a withered leaf pressed down under the weight of textbooks.
And yet, today she had chosen her uniform more carefully in the morning, tied her hair a little more neatly.
The reason-Anirban Sir.
Physics teacher Anirban Mondal had joined just a month ago.
A young teacher, freshly graduated.
But there was a maturity in his expression, a confidence in his voice, that carried the air of a seasoned educator. He conducted his classes with a calm determination and a natural ease that had left the girls stunned from the very first day.
Many girls at Medha's all-girls' school had a crush on Anirban Sir-because he was young and undeniably handsome.
On top of that, he explained even the most difficult and complex Physics problems in such a simple way that it felt effortless-like second nature to him.
Naturally, the students couldn't help but be drawn to him.
Since it was a girls' school, most of the teachers were women.
There were one or two other male teachers, but they were much older.
Anirban Sir's youth, sharp intellect, and confident personality brought a fresh energy to the school environment. The students couldn't help being drawn to him-with a blend of respect and a strange sense of fascination.
Medha sat quietly in one corner, by the window.
Her head was down, hair falling over her cheeks, eyes on the pages of her book-though she wasn't really reading.
Her mind was completely focused on Anirban Sir.
Her heart hoped-maybe today, he would notice her.
Maybe he would call on her-just once, a little differently than the others.
---
As soon as Anirban Sir entered the classroom, the girls brightened up with excitement. The moment Medha saw him, an inexplicable sense of joy stirred within her. It always happened to her when she saw his face.
"Alright, today we'll work on action-reaction problems," Sir said as he turned toward the board, chalk in hand. He began writing a question on the board. The classroom fell silent. Everyone was watching him with focused attention.
Medha was supposed to look at the board, but her eyes lingered on Sir's back, shoulders, arms, and neck instead.
"Today we're going to do a problem based on Newton's Third Law," he said, turning to the students. There was a confident glow in his eyes, with the chalk resting between the folds of his fingers.
"For this, I'll need someone at the board."
His eyes scanned the classroom. Some students looked down to avoid eye contact, others smirked quietly. Suddenly, his eyes landed on Medha.
"Medha, you come up."
She was startled.
"Come to the board and try solving this problem," Sir said, a gentle smile on his face.
For a moment, there was silence. Then a wave of whispers rippled through the room. A hush of mocking laughter spread.
Everyone knew Medha was weak in academics.
"Medha and physics? Really?" "Is Sir actually serious?" "Great, here comes the next topic-'Ductile Medha' on the board!" "Forget equations, looks like we'll see a complete mess today!"
Medha's face turned red. She stood up and walked to the front with her head lowered. Her eyes began to well up with tears.
Those whispers pierced her heart like thorns. Her throat dried up, her legs felt heavy. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her chest. With her head down, she slowly moved toward the board, every step feeling like she was walking on air.
Her hands and feet were trembling. As she reached near Sir, he smiled softly and handed her the chalk.
Medha's palm was sweaty. As soon as she took the chalk, it slipped and fell to the floor.
A fresh burst of laughter in the classroom.
"Even the chalk couldn't handle Medha!" someone said mockingly.
Laughter all around.
But this time, Anirban Sir's voice rang out, firm and composed.
"One moment," he said, eyes scanning the class. "I want to ask a question to those who are laughing. Does anyone have the courage to come up here and solve this problem?"
Silence.
"No one will come. Because trying isn't your habit-mocking from the sidelines is much easier. But a girl, who knows she's weak-still stands up, makes mistakes, and wants to learn-she is far braver and greater than any of you."
The classroom fell into utter silence.
"This is not just a question. This is a test of life. And Medha, you are passing this test-because you were afraid, yet didn't step back. That's a remarkable act of courage."
He bent down, picked up the chalk, and gently placed it in Medha's hand. That one brief touch-just fingertips grazing-sent a new surge of blood through Medha's veins. Something stirred inside her, something warm and indescribable.
Sir smiled gently and said,
"Make mistakes. Make more. But don't stop. Because each time, you are moving one step forward."
Tears welled up in Medha's eyes-but this time, not from humiliation-rather, from a deep, rising warmth inside her. She stood at the board and began to write the solution slowly. She made mistakes, corrected them, kept going. No one laughed anymore.
Anirban Sir looked at her and spoke in a calm, affectionate voice: "You are far stronger than you think."
He added, "It's perfectly natural. I tripped over my own feet when I took my first class. Come on, let's start again."
Medha continued working on the solution. Whenever she stumbled, Sir patiently guided her. Despite her repeated mistakes, he never got irritated. Instead, he kept encouraging her.
Sir said, "You can do it. Physics isn't just numbers-it's the science of understanding. When a force pushes an object, it moves. In life too, when we push someone, there's always a reaction. Think of it like a story. Feel it-don't just read it."
A faint smile appeared on Medha's face. She resumed writing. She made another mistake-showed a vector in the wrong direction. Some snide remarks again floated from the back of the class. But Sir remained calm.
"It's good to make mistakes-it means you're trying. The ones laughing without doing anything-no one sees their mistakes, because they never try."
The class fell silent. No one dared to mock Medha anymore.
Sir stood beside her and softly explained-how the vector should look, where the force should be applied. Medha tried to understand and kept writing slowly. Her face was sweating, eyes filled with fear-but she kept fighting.
Finally, Sir said, "To learn science, first you need faith. And I believe in you."
Medha looked up-a moment of eye contact. In Anirban Sir's eyes, she saw sincerity-a gentle, yet firm affection.
When Medha returned to her seat, the classroom remained silent. No one laughed anymore. Her body still trembled slightly, but something had begun to solidify inside her-a new self-confidence, a new realization. And with it, a deep love and respect for Anirban Sir. She began to like him even more.
For Medha, Physics was no longer just a subject-it became something she loved. For the first time in her life, she developed a keen interest in studying physics-the very subject she had always hated most.
---
To be Continued...