The sound of chatter filled the corridor as students streamed toward their classrooms after the morning assembly. The air carried the faint scent of chalk dust and freshly wiped floors, that familiar mix that somehow made schools feel alive again after a long vacation.
Mak adjusted the strap of his backpack and checked the classroom number on the slip of paper the teacher had given him. *8-B.* He paused outside the door, took a quiet breath, and stepped in.
The classroom was bright, sunlight pouring through the tall windows that faced the playground. The walls were decorated with colorful charts—multiplication tables, maps, and a notice board filled with neatly pinned timetables and student drawings. Desks were arranged in careful rows, each marked with faint etchings from the years before, small signs that hundreds of students had sat here before them.
Many students were already seated, talking animatedly, their voices overlapping in cheerful noise. It didn't take Mak long to notice that most of them already knew each other — laughing and chatting easily. It made sense. Many of them had probably studied together since the early grades.
Mak took an empty seat in the middle row, placing his bag quietly beside him. A few other new students looked just as uncertain, scanning the room for friendly faces or empty spaces. That made Mak feel a bit better.
He had just opened his notebook when someone's voice came from beside him.
"Hey, you're new too, right?"
Mak turned to see a boy sitting next to him. He had neatly combed hair and a casual confidence in his posture.
"Yeah," Mak replied with a small nod. "First day here."
The boy smiled. "I'm Raghav. What's your name? do you live close?"
"My name is Mak," Mak said. "I stay in RT Nagar."
"Oh, that's not far," Raghav said with a grin. "I'm near Hebbal. You'll like it here. Classes can be boring sometimes, but the teachers are chill enough."
Before Mak could respond, another voice joined in — this time from the row in front.
"Raghav, you've said that to every new student since morning," a girl said, turning around slightly. She had tied her hair into a neat ponytail and her uniform looked perfect, not a single crease out of place.
Raghav sighed dramatically. "Aisha, it's called being friendly."
Aisha rolled her eyes before turning toward Mak with a polite smile. "Hi. Don't mind him. He just likes talking a lot. I'm Aisha."
Mak smiled, feeling the atmosphere lighten a little. "Nice to meet you."
Just then, the class teacher walked in — a woman in her early thirties, with sharp eyes but a calm expression. "Good morning, everyone," she greeted, setting her attendance sheet on the desk. The room fell quiet almost instantly.
"Welcome to a new academic year," she said, glancing around. "Some of you I already know, but I also see a few new faces. I'm Mrs. Mehta, your class teacher for this year."
They went through introductions one by one. Some spoke confidently, others barely above a whisper. When Mak's turn came, he stood and said, "I'm Mak. I just joined this year."
A simple introduction, but it made a few students glance curiously in his direction.
Classes began soon after. The hours rolled by in a blur of chalkboard notes, textbooks, and the occasional announcement over the speaker system. The routine was new, but not unpleasant. Mak found the teachers approachable, though he struggled to remember all their names.
By the time the lunch bell rang, the energy in the school shifted. Students flooded the corridors, laughing and carrying their tiffins toward familiar corners.
Raghav waved to Mak. "Hey, come on! Sit with us!"
Mak followed him to a shady spot under a large neem tree near the playground. A gentle breeze carried the scent of food — spicy pickles, curries, and parathas — blending into that typical school lunchtime aroma.
Aisha was already sitting there, unpacking her lunch neatly on a handkerchief. "You're settling in fine, right?" she asked, glancing at Mak.
"Yeah," Mak said. "Everyone seems nice so far."
Raghav smirked. "Except maybe for Aisha when she's scolding people."
Aisha threw him a look. "At least I attend every class."
Mak chuckled quietly at their friendly banter. The conversation drifted from school rules to teachers, to how the canteen samosas were better last year. Raghav told a funny story about a science experiment gone wrong in seventh standard.
Mak mostly listened, smiling at their ease with each other. There was something comforting about being around people who spoke so naturally.
As they ate, Aisha asked, "So Mak, what made you join St. Xavier's?"
"My mom thought it would be good for studies," he said. "And my cousins live nearby, so it made sense."
"That's convenient," Raghav said. "RT Nagar's full of good places. You play any sport?"
Mak hesitated slightly and nodded. "Cricket."
"Hmm," Raghav said, an unreadable look crossing his face. "That's good. We've got quite a cricket culture here."
Before Mak could ask more, Aisha added with a smile, "You probably don't know this, but Raghav's one of the main batsmen in our school's team. He's been playing for our school team from junior level."
Mak turned to Raghav, surprised. "Really?"
Raghav shrugged modestly, though his grin gave it away. "Yeah, something like that. I was part of the junior team till last year. Got promoted to the high school team now. Same pitch, bigger expectations."
"Don't let him fool you," Aisha said, laughing. "He's on of the best batsman the school's seen in years. Even Coach Ranjan says so."
Mak's eyes widened a little. "That's amazing."
Raghav laughed lightly. "It's not that big of a deal. But hey, if you like cricket, you should come to watch a practice sometime. You'll see what it's like."
"I will," Mak said. He meant it, though part of him already felt something stirring — that old excitement he'd always felt back home whenever cricket came up.
Aisha packed up her lunchbox neatly. "I help out with the cricket committee sometimes — logistics, scheduling, all that. It's part of the student committee work. So if you ever want to know about team stuff, I can tell you."
Mak smiled. "That's cool."
The bell rang soon after, echoing across the courtyard. Students hurriedly gathered their boxes and bags, returning to their classrooms.
As Mak followed behind Raghav and Aisha, his mind replayed their conversation. He hadn't planned to think about cricket today — not on his first day at a new school — but somehow, it found him again, quietly.
He glanced through the window at the far side of the playground, where a few seniors were knocking a ball around lazily between periods.
For a moment, his heart stirred.
*Maybe… this school will be a new beginning in more ways than one.*
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