The alarm didn't ring. Or maybe it did and I forgot to set it. I blinked into the darkness, feeling the strange emptiness of not being greeted by the familiar tick of my bedside clock at home or Appa's soft knock on the door. For a second, I panicked.
"Nila, wake up. Come and bathe after me, early okay? Don't get late by any chance," Shivani Di whispered near my bed.
She had already wrapped her towel and was adjusting her slippers. The urgency in her voice wasn't like her usual reminders. She knew my routine well by now, but this was different. Sharper. I nodded silently, grateful she noticed.
Still groggy, I slid out of my blanket and onto the cold tiled floor. Without a sound, I stepped outside for my ten minutes of Suryanamaskaram in the corridor corner, away from the early risers and sleepy murmurs. My hands pressed against the floor, the coolness anchoring me in my breath.
When I came back in, the door closed behind me with an unfortunate bang.
A loud one.
It echoed.
"Girls should be mindful in the early morning, still people are sleeping," a familiar voice snapped from behind a closed door.
Warden.
I froze, still on my toes. Her cabin was just to the right of the entrance. I hadn't meant to slam the door—it must've been the draft. My heart did a small, terrified somersault. If she had seen me...
I dashed to my cot like a mouse scuttling across an empty floor. Snatched up my bathrobe and caddy, and tiptoed to the bathroom before she could fling open her door and declare war. I kept imagining her voice trailing behind me, "You again?"
The bathroom was still sleepy. A few early birds brushing, yawning, waiting their turn at the washroom stalls. I kept my head down, quickly unwrapping my towel and securing my toiletries. The cold water that hit my body shocked my nerves awake but also brought clarity. This wasn't my home. I had to stop expecting warmth from the walls or the people. Here, survival came with silence, planning, and avoiding unnecessary eyes.
When I stepped out, my hair wet and clinging to my neck, I walked into the shared mirror space, and there she was.
Warden.
Brushing her teeth.
She looked up at me through the mirror. Our eyes met. I summoned a polite smile and said, "Good morning, ma'am."
She spat out the foam, rinsed her mouth, and walked away. No reply. Not even a nod.
Ah. So it's the cold shoulder now.
Better than being screamed at, I suppose.
I dried off quickly and got dressed without fuss. Wore my uniform kurta and braided my hair as neatly as I could. The bay was too silent; I could hear slippers flapping and lockers creaking. I didn't want to linger. Every second felt like I was overstaying in someone else's home.
I packed my books and worksheets and slipped out as quietly as possible. The air outside was fresh—tinted with the bitterness of hostel soap and leftover dawn dew. I didn't take the usual roundabout route to school. I walked faster, cutting through the tiled corridor near the staff quarters, trying not to look at anyone, not even the sleepy watchman sipping chai.
I reached the school building fifteen minutes early.
The hallway was echoey and wide open like the inside of a shell. I walked to my classroom, half expecting the door to be locked. But it wasn't. I pushed it open, and for the first time this week, I was the first one in.
I sat at my desk, third from the front, by the window, and let out a long sigh. Not of relief. Just… of stillness.
I unzipped my bag and began arranging my Chinese worksheet, the exact one I had defended like a lioness last night. I took out the paper, pressed it flat against the desk, and began smoothing the creases with the back of my hand. It still smelled like the warden's cupboard—slightly musty, like neglected papers and perfume.
I was halfway through flipping the pages when I heard footsteps.
Nishanth.
He entered, his bag slung sideways and his hair a little wild, like he'd fought the morning too. He paused at the door when he saw me.
"You're early," he said, adjusting his collar.
"So are you," I replied, without looking up.
He dropped his bag on the bench behind mine, pulled out his book, and plopped into his seat with a tired grunt. "I thought I'd finally beat someone to it."
"You'll have to try harder," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Nishanth chuckled, settling into his seat. The classroom was still empty, quiet enough to hear the rustle of notebook pages and the slow hum of the fan overhead. A soft beam of morning sunlight crept across the tiled floor between us.
"So…" he began, resting his elbow on the bench and turning slightly toward me. "Heard you took on the Warden yesterday. Bold."
I blinked. "You heard about that?"
"I was on the ground too," he said casually, like it was no big deal. "I didn't catch the whole thing, but I saw the tail-end. You're asking for your things back, straight to her face, with the Chief Warden standing there. I thought, finally, someone's teaching her a lesson."
I rolled my eyes, slumping back slightly in my seat. "She was being completely unfair. She wasn't even speaking to me directly—just ranting loudly enough for me to hear it, trying to paint me as disrespectful. And all because I questioned her authority."
"Classic," he said. "If someone questions them, they call it misbehaving. If they raise their voice, it's discipline."
I nodded, the frustration bubbling back up in my throat. "She didn't even check my books. She just seized them and acted like she had the right to keep them for days. And then she tried to tell me maybe I won't even get them back. For what? A worksheet?"
"Power trip," he muttered.
"Exactly. I wouldn't have even gone up to her if she hadn't been trying to manipulate the story like that. As if I'd done something illegal. I mean, that worksheet was part of my hobby. I like to learn languages. I don't think there is anything wrong with learning something purely out of interest."
He leaned forward a little, his voice quieter now. "I thought it was cool how you asked for your things calmly. Most people would've snapped or stayed quiet."
"I almost did both," I admitted. "But I've realised that sometimes, you have to speak up if you don't want to be erased. Especially when they try to twist facts."
He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the edge of my desk before looking back up at me. "That thing she said about your diary though… that was out of line."
I sighed. "Yeah. She asked about my journal like it was contraband or something. I told them, unless there's a written rule saying I can't have one, they can't ask to read it."
"Good," he said. "That's personal. No one should get to read what's in your head unless you choose to share it."
We both sat silently for a moment, the weight of that sentence lingering.
"You ever feel like… privacy just doesn't exist in places like this?" I asked quietly.
"All the time," he replied. "Hostel life, school life, even home sometimes. People forget that we're allowed to have private thoughts. Just because we're young doesn't mean we owe them access to everything."
I nodded slowly, the tension in my chest softening a bit.
"I miss doors that close properly," I said with a half-laugh. "Walls that don't have ears."
"Me too," he grinned. "But hey, at least you gave her a reason to remember you."
"I didn't want to be remembered like that," I sighed.
"But maybe," he said, "you're being remembered for the right reasons."
The classroom began to fill slowly after that. One by one, backpacks thudded onto benches, sleepy murmurs turned into chatter, and teachers' heels began to clack down the corridor.
After the morning prayer, I walked to the dining hall with my plate and steel tumbler, trying to shake off the last of the tension from yesterday. The canteen smelled of sambar and overcooked upma. As I joined the queue, a group of seniors standing near the handwash area caught sight of me.
"Hey, First Year!" one of them called with a grin. "Good show yesterday."
I blinked. "You mean the—"
"The Warden takedown? Oh yes," another senior chimed in, her voice low but amused. "That woman's been tormenting freshers for years. Always seizing stuff during inspections and never returning them. Notes, sketchbooks, even food packets once."
"Seriously?" I asked, surprised.
She nodded. "People usually just let it go. But you? You stood your ground. Respect."
I didn't know what to say. All I had done was try to get my things back. But from the way they looked at me—with a mix of approval and relief—it felt like I'd done something bigger. Maybe I had.
With a small smile, I found a seat by the window and began to eat. The sun was rising higher now, and for the first time since arriving here, I felt a little more like myself.