The lunch bell faded, and the boys trudged back into the classroom with half-eaten chocolates, jokes, and cricket scores still buzzing in the air. But for Dilli, the real match was about to begin—the dreaded Mathematics period.
The chalk screeched across the blackboard as Mr. Satish, their mathematics teacher, began.
"Alright, today we'll do problems on fractions. Everyone open your notebooks."
Dilli's heart thudded. Fractions had once been the stuff of nightmares—the same nightmares that grew into calculus demons in Intermediate, thermodynamics monsters in B.Tech, and probability horrors in his job. His palms grew clammy.
But then… something strange happened.
The teacher's voice, every word, every symbol on the board—imprinted in his mind like a photograph. No confusion. No fear. Just absolute clarity.
When Mr. Satish explained, "One-half plus one-third is five-sixths…" Dilli felt as though invisible gears clicked in his brain. His mind saw the fraction, broke it down, and rebuilt it effortlessly.
It was too easy.
"What… what is happening to me?" he whispered to himself.
Tears welled up without warning, slipping down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them, but not before Vishnu nudged him.
"Rey… why crying for fractions? Teacher didn't scold you no?"
The others turned. AV Dileep smirked. "Maybe he finally realized maths is cruel."
But when they saw the tears weren't stopping, their teasing faded. Concern replaced laughter.
Even Mr. Satish paused mid-equation. "Dilli? Are you alright?" His voice was unusually gentle.
Dilli nodded stiffly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, sir… I'm fine."
But inside, he was a storm. Why now? Why is this so easy when once it destroyed me? He felt as if some hidden lock inside his brain had been broken open, releasing years of suppressed understanding.
The Strange Gift
As the day went on, the strangeness only deepened.
In Science, every diagram stuck to his mind like paint on canvas.
In Social Studies, he spotted factual errors in the textbook margins that no one else had ever noticed.
In English, he remembered entire passages word for word.
It wasn't studying. It was as if his brain had turned into a living camera.
By the time the last bell rang, Dilli's chest felt heavy with a mix of awe and dread. The others ran out cheerfully, arguing about cricket scores, but he stayed behind.
The Secret Collection
Quietly, he walked to the cupboard at the back of the class where the old textbooks were stacked—dusty, ignored, waiting for annual exams. With steady hands, he pulled out mathematics textbooks from Class 1 through Class 10.
The peon uncle raised an eyebrow. "Why so many books, ra? You planning to build a fort?"
Dilli forced a chuckle. "Just… want to practice, uncle."
Stuffing them into his bag, he stepped out of school. His shoulders stooped under the weight, but his heart was lighter.
The Prayer of Gratitude
On the way home, he walked slowly, the sounds of the town blurring around him. His mind was still replaying the fractions lesson, the science diagrams, the English passages. Each one as clear as a temple bell ringing inside him.
He stopped under a neem tree, pressed his palms together, and whispered,
"Mahadev… I don't know why you've given me this gift, but thank you. This time, I will not waste it. This time, I will conquer what once conquered me."
The setting sun dipped low, painting the sky orange and gold. His bag was heavy with books, his heart heavy with confusion, but also overflowing with gratitude.
Dilli walked home quietly, knowing one thing for certain—
This was not just a second chance. It was a blessing in disguise.