It was the start of a new academic year in Chennai. A newly established institution, Narayana School, had opened its doors, attracting parents and students from all over the city. The air outside the campus was thick with tension—forms, queues, last-minute photographs, and the nervous chatter of children who had no idea what to expect.
Amid this chaos, four sets of children crossed paths. The kind of coincidence that might have meant nothing at first. But sometimes, the smallest moments leave the deepest marks.
The first three were sisters: Godavari, the responsible one with a quiet authority; Kaveri, always observant, the kind who listened more than she spoke; and Saraswati, intelligent but introverted, often absorbed in her own thoughts.
The next trio were siblings too: Krishna, the classic problem-solver who questioned everything; Anjaan, bold and analytical; and Radha, intuitive and emotionally grounded.
Then came two brothers: Varun, calm and composed with an unusual knowledge of animals; and Dhawan, younger, a little reckless, and never without a smart remark.
And finally, there was Meera—independent, self-assured, and used to standing alone.
By the time the admission day ended, these nine had exchanged numbers, inside jokes, and the first few threads of a friendship none of them saw coming.
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Years passed. School uniforms gave way to college ID cards, but their bond remained intact. In a world where most friendships faded with time, theirs only grew more intentional. They didn't just hang out—they showed up. For each other. Always.
One afternoon, after classes, the group met at a coffee shop just outside campus. Godavari glanced at the time and said,
"Let's meet at Guindy Park tomorrow. 4 PM. We haven't been there in a while."
The others agreed without question. Plans didn't need explanations between them anymore.
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The next day, as sunlight filtered through the trees of Guindy Park, the group sat on the grass, stretched out, talking in fragments.
Then they noticed something.
Three stray dogs had emerged from the far side of the park. They didn't look threatening, just... lost. Hungry. One of them walked slowly, limping slightly.
Kaveri turned to Varun.
"You're the dog whisperer. Can you tell what breeds they are?"
Varun squinted, watching them approach.
"The white one in front is a Rajapalayam—rare to see one stray. The second is a Labrador, looks like an abandoned pet. Third's a German Shepherd. Also abandoned, I'd bet."
Anjaan leaned forward.
"We've always talked about doing something more than just classes and meetups. You guys still up for... adventure?"
No one said no. Of course not.
"I'm thinking we split into three teams," she continued. "Three people in each. Each team works with one dog. We train them, care for them, study them like a real project. Could be more than that, too. Could be our thing."
"Why train them?" Dhawan asked, but he was already interested.
"Because no one else will. Because these dogs don't have anyone. And because maybe... just maybe, we're capable of more than we think."
There was a pause, then Krishna nodded slowly.
"Let's do it. But we'll need to gain their trust first."
Radha turned to Varun.
"Think you can approach them?"
"I can try," he said, already reaching for his backpack. "But we'll need food."
"I've got it," Saraswati said, standing up. "There's a shop at the corner. I'll get some biscuits."
Five minutes later, she returned with a pack, handed it to Varun without a word.
He moved slowly, cautiously, letting the dogs come to him. He placed the biscuits on the ground, whispered words they wouldn't understand—but he believed intention mattered. The dogs ate like they hadn't in days. Their tails wagged, slower than usual but honest.
Varun looked back at the others.
"They're in. In their own way."
Anjaan grinned.
"Then let's make this official."
Dhawan spoke up.
"Teams are: Me, Anjaan, and Saraswati—Saraswati's our lead. Krishna, Kaveri, and Meera—Krishna leads. And Godavari, Radha, and Varun—Varun's team."
Each leader stepped forward.
Varun chose the German Shepherd—sharp, alert, and already reading his cues.
Krishna picked the Rajapalayam—graceful and disciplined.
Saraswati took the Labrador—gentle but eager.
The sun was beginning to set when they left the park, each team walking in a different direction, a dog trotting beside them.
What started as a casual meeting had quietly turned into a mission.
And none of them knew it yet, but that decision would change everything.