Chapter 2 – New Bonds
The first evening at Hostel Block C drifted by slowly. The corridors were alive with footsteps and laughter, the occasional clatter of trunks being dragged in, and the unmistakable sound of new friendships beginning.
Arjun Rathore had left his door half-open as he leaned on his bed, flipping through a campus pamphlet he didn't really care about. His mind was elsewhere, already weighing the rhythm of this new life. The scrape of suitcase wheels against the floor pulled him back.
A tall, lean boy with a sharp smile appeared at the door, carrying two bags. "This 204, right?" he asked casually.
Arjun nodded. "Yeah. Come in."
The boy dropped one bag on the empty bed and gave a quick grin. "Kabir Malhotra. Delhi. And you?"
"Arjun. Rathore. Himachal."
Kabir's eyebrows rose slightly at the clipped, steady tone, but he only smirked. "Strong name. You look like someone who doesn't mess around."
Arjun shrugged. "Depends who I'm dealing with."
That made Kabir chuckle. He began unpacking, filling the cupboard with neatly folded clothes that looked far more stylish than most students could afford. His phone buzzed on the desk—three notifications in less than a minute. He ignored them, glancing at Arjun. "What course?"
"Political Science."
"Same here," Kabir said. "Good. At least I'll know one face in class."
The second roommate arrived an hour later, quietly, with little fanfare. A short, wiry boy entered with a single duffel bag slung across his shoulder. He scanned the room once, nodded politely, and said in a calm voice, "Imran Sheikh. Lucknow."
Arjun studied him for a moment. There was no nervousness, no forced cheer in Imran's demeanor—just a steady quietness. He placed his bag down, unrolled a set of books, and stacked them neatly on his shelf.
Kabir tried breaking the silence. "So, Imran, why State University?"
"Cheaper fees. Good faculty," Imran replied simply, without looking up. His voice carried no embarrassment, just honesty.
Arjun found himself liking the boy immediately. He appreciated people who didn't waste words. "You read?" Arjun asked, nodding at the thick novels.
"History, mostly," Imran said. "I sketch too. Helps clear the head."
Kabir gave a low whistle. "We've got a thinker and an artist in one. Nice. Me? I'm more of a… networker."
Arjun smirked. "Yeah, I can tell."
The three shared a brief laugh, the ice broken in its own way.
---
Meanwhile, in the room next door, Raghav Chauhan was setting up his bed when his first roommate walked in—a cheerful boy with a mop of messy hair and a grin that seemed permanent. He dragged in a large suitcase that rattled with every step.
"Hey, hey! Room 205?" the boy asked, almost out of breath.
"Yeah," Raghav replied, standing to help him.
"Perfect! Sameer Verma, Kanpur." He stuck out his hand with infectious energy. Raghav shook it, smiling despite himself.
Sameer plopped onto his bed dramatically, letting out a groan. "Finally. Man, the campus is huge. I nearly died dragging this thing."
Raghav chuckled. "You don't look like you'll survive hostel food either."
Sameer grinned wider. "I won't. But if I die, let it be known—it was death by dal-chawal."
The room filled with laughter. Raghav already knew Sameer would be the kind of person who made tough days lighter.
Their second roommate arrived just before dinner—a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a stern face and athletic build. He walked in with disciplined steps, carrying a single neatly packed bag.
"Room 205?" he asked.
"Yes," Raghav said. "I'm Raghav. This is Sameer."
The boy gave a curt nod. "Vikram Solanki. Jaipur." He placed his bag on the bed and immediately began arranging his things with military precision—shirts folded crisp, books stacked by subject, toiletries aligned like soldiers in formation.
Sameer leaned toward Raghav and whispered loudly, "This one's going to wake us up at five a.m. for jogging."
Without missing a beat, Vikram replied, "Six. Discipline is important, not torture."
Raghav burst out laughing. Sameer groaned dramatically, falling back on his bed. The contrast between the two was already clear: Sameer's chaos and Vikram's order.
---
By nightfall, both rooms had settled into a rhythm. In 204, Kabir was still talking about Delhi nightlife, Imran was sketching silently by the desk lamp, and Arjun lay on his bed, hands folded behind his head, listening more than speaking.
In 205, Sameer cracked jokes about seniors, Vikram corrected him with patient irritation, and Raghav listened with quiet amusement.
The hostel buzz slowly faded as lights went out one by one. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and the hum of ceiling fans filled the silence.
Arjun's eyes stayed open long after his roommates had drifted to sleep. The ceiling above seemed plain, but to him, it was the beginning of something. He didn't know what exactly—but his instincts whispered it would be bigger than lectures, grades, or hostel pranks.
He smirked faintly in the darkness. "So it begins," he muttered under his breath.
And thus, the first night at State University settled into history—with six boys in two rooms, unaware that their bonds, trials, and choices would soon weave into a story far larger than any of them could yet imagine.