The sun had started to climb, painting the world with its pale gold light. Shiv stood at the school gate, watching usha enter through the school gate. She turned once, waving her hand while jumping like a rabbit, her bag bouncing on her back. A wide smile stretched across her face, reaching her ears as she kept waving her hand. That smile could melt any stone.
"Don't sleep in class!" Shiv called, raising his voice just enough for her to hear.
Usha puffed her cheeks. "I won't!" she yelled back, her two braids swaying in the air as she shook her head, before disappearing into the swarm of uniforms and chatter.
The moment she was gone, the world that had been warm and full of colors a moment ago turned dull and gray, as if it had always been this lifeless. The laughter in his ears faded, replaced by the hum of traffic and distant honks on the road. He stood there, his breath even, eyes fixed on the spot where Meera had stood a moment ago, smiling at him.
He put his hands in his pockets and turned away, then started walking towards his school. The street came alive, roads buzzing with the hum of traffic and honking. People rushed to their work, vendors shouting.
His footsteps were steady, his head lowered, staring at the broken pavement holding water from yesterday's rain. Avoiding the puddles, he moved past an electronics shop.
Rows of screens glowed behind the glass, bright and loud. A news anchor spoke over flashing headlines. Shiv didn't pay much attention—until one word caught his ear.
"...missing..."
He slowed for a second, head turning slightly toward the screens, his hands still in his pockets. The anchor's lips moved, but before Shiv could catch the rest, a car roared past, its engine drowning everything in static. By the time the noise faded, the news had moved on to something else.
Shiv didn't bother to check the rest. He kept walking, his eyes back on the pavement, avoiding the water puddles.
After a few minutes of walking, he reached the crossing. The signal was green, so the pedestrians waited on the edge of the pavement. Shiv stopped behind them, hands still buried in his pockets.
His gaze wandered, scanning the crowd. His eyes rested on a woman in her late twenties, wearing a blue suit with white embroidery along the edges of its neckline and sleeves, paired with a white salwar. It suited her. A leather handbag strap hung from her shoulder.
She looked at the traffic light countdown, then checked her watch, her foot tapping on the pavement. She muttered something under her breath.
When the traffic light started ticking down, Shiv stepped forward. He passed a man, then a boy with headphones, and then the woman in the blue suit and white salwar. They watched as he moved past them one by one until he was ahead of the crowd of pedestrians—calm and silent—standing in front, at the very edge.
The woman's voice cut through the hum of the street like a blade.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Cutting the line like that! Move aside and wait your turn!"
Shiv didn't turn. Didn't blink. He stared straight ahead at the rushing cars, his face even.
"Are you deaf?" she barked again, louder this time. The other pedestrians turned to look. A couple of them frowned.
The light turned red. The signal beeped. People moved forward, ready to cross. The woman behind him started to step around—
And then, like a blur.
A car tore through the intersection, ignoring the signal, slicing through the red light like it didn't exist. Its tires screamed against the asphalt, wind slapping faces as it shot past, missing the crowd by inches. The air trembled with the echo of its speed.
Gasps filled the crossing. Someone cursed under their breath. The woman froze mid-step, her words stuck in her throat.
Shiv didn't flinch.
As soon as the car disappeared, he moved, his steps slow and steady, almost too casual. He crossed, ignoring the voices behind him, ignoring the stares. Disappearing into the streets.
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.
.
.
Minutes later, the school gates came into view. Shiv paused just outside, staring at the old gate, its paint peeling at the edges, exposing rusty, weak metal hidden behind the glossy coat—waiting for its fall.
In the middle of the gate was written an old Sanskrit verse:
ॐ सर्वे भवन्तु सुखिनः
सर्वे सन्तु निरामयाः।
सर्वे भद्राणि पश्यन्तु मा कश्चिद्दुःखभाग्भवेत।
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः॥
Its translation:
"May all sentient beings be at peace,
may no one suffer from illness,
may all see what is auspicious,
may no one suffer.
Om peace, peace, peace."
Shiv's lips trembled as he read it. The verse offered no salvation to him. A storm raged in his mind as he entered the school gate.
Students streamed in with laughter and noise. Some talked to their friends, others waited for theirs. A few discussed the test, while others talked about what to do after school.
A few heads turned in his direction, stopping whatever they were talking about. A couple whispered. He took a deep breath, a silent sigh slipping from his lips.
"Time to survive," he whispered to himself, his jaw tightening. Already anticipating what would happen. And he moved towards his class, ignoring all the ruckus behind him.
.
.
.
The school corridor buzzed with students' chatter. Friends cracked jokes on each other. One student slammed lightly on his friend's shoulder, greeting him. Some made weird gestures while greeting each other. Shiv walked through the chattering crowd, ignoring a few whispers directed toward his direction.
Soon he reached the door of his class, his hand inches away from the handle, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.
He took a long breath, and with a sigh, he slid the door open. Then he entered.
The chatter, which had been loud enough to be heard out in the school corridor, went quiet for a moment. Every pair of eyes moved toward his direction. An air of heaviness settled in the class for a moment before a sneer—and then laughter.
The class burst into the noise of chatter again. Shiv felt the change in the atmosphere. The whispers and jokes that were before about something else were now directed toward him—or at least half of them were.
Shiv moved toward the back of the class, where a lone desk was placed near the wall. All the desks near his were placed a little farther away, and the desks in the side row were placed even farther, breaking the row like the tail of a snake, as if an invisible semicircle was drawn around his desk.
A girl near the window nudged her friend and whispered something in her ear. The friend's lips curled up, and with a click of her tongue, she muttered under her breath, "Retard," and a smile formed on her face—not of happiness, but as if she looked down on something below her, something disgusting.
Shiv heard her word loud and clear and saw the smile on her face. She may have thought that she had said that word in a low voice so Shiv didn't hear it. And nor did she care if he heard it.
Shiv walked toward his seat, dragging his legs, his shoes scraping the floor, until he reached his desk and dropped into his seat.
He looked outside the window at a bird sitting on the branch of a tree, hopping on it and then flying into the sky. Shiv felt a tinge of jealousy in his heart—because of the freedom that bird enjoyed without worrying what others may think about her. While he was in a cage woven by people's fear of the past—a past which may or may not have happened, just a tale, a myth told by generations, nurturing hate and disgust toward someone who had nothing to do with it, and always blamed for it.
A voice cut through the chatter of the students, bringing Shiv out of his thoughts.
"Careful, guys," someone said loud enough for the room to hear. "The curse bearer is here. Don't sit too close—he might curse you."
A burst of laughter echoed through the class. Shiv didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. He tilted his head down, staring at his desk, trying to block out the mocking laughs.
Shiv didn't look up. His eyes stayed fixed on his desk, and he didn't move. But inside, his stomach twisted—not with anger, and not with hatred, but something else, something raw.