Life in college had begun to take on a new texture for Abhiram. Each day was still demanding—classes, bus rides, endless notes—but in between, he began to notice small victories, little moments of growth that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
One evening, while sorting through his phone, he noticed something odd. His old, former Instagram account—the one he had abandoned in frustration—had somehow become active again. The sight brought back a flood of old memories: embarrassing posts, arguments in comment sections, and messages he no longer cared to read. Without hesitation, he deactivated it again, then carefully opened his newer account to transfer important files, photos, and documents he wanted to keep.
It wasn't about nostalgia; it was about cleaning house, removing anything that would drag him backward. He promised himself that after the five-day waiting period, even this new account would be gone. Social media had taken enough of his time once—this time, it wouldn't get the chance.
In the meantime, something else was happening. His endless evenings of practice were paying off. Physics began to make sense—laws and formulas that once looked like a maze now seemed like pieces of a larger picture. Mathematics felt less like a threat and more like a puzzle. Chemistry, Tamil, Python, and English started to fall into place as well, each subject no longer an obstacle but a stepping stone.
This new focus seemed to open other doors too. Friendships—the one thing he had held at arm's length—began to grow slowly and naturally. He didn't force conversations, but classmates began to notice his quiet determination. Some started sitting with him in class, sharing notes, exchanging small jokes. Even Jagan had become more of a friend than just a seatmate.
On one weekend morning, while waiting for the college bus, Abhiram struck up a conversation with a man who looked different from the usual commuters. He turned out to be an IT employee—a friendly professional who explained about a competitive exam designed for engineering students, something that could open doors to better jobs and internships in the future. Abhiram listened carefully, taking mental notes. It was a glimpse of the world beyond college—a reminder that his journey here was not the end, but a beginning.
Later that evening, after a long week of classes and self-discipline, he allowed himself a small break. He attended a music concert at YMCA, losing himself in the rhythm of drums and the surge of voices singing together. For that brief moment, as lights flashed and music swelled, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—happiness without worry. It wasn't tied to marks, or fees, or proving himself. It was simply joy.
As he walked back home under the city's night sky, the sound of music still echoing in his ears, Abhiram thought quietly:
"Maybe this is what life is—small victories, small joys, learning, changing, and waiting for the next challenge."
He didn't know what that next challenge would be, but he knew he was ready for it.