YOUR SQUAD OR MINE?

This time, the knock is coming from the door. I had locked it just in case someone entered unannounced. I move lazily to the door, but I stop just a few feet short instead of opening it at once. I hear voices outside, familiar ones, supportive ones. I consider waiting for a couple more minutes, but there is a tap again. It is Cyra at the other end. “You are wanted in the hall,” she says and disappears in a jiffy.

 

I saunter anxiously toward outside my room, days after I made my room my cocoon. Only after Christy hops onto my side and hugs me do I realise the team is from my school: Christy, my classmates, my teachers, and Ms. Srija. A wave of relief washes over me. I still scan around for that one familiar face whom I eagerly await to catch hold of. But she isn't here, at least for now. 

 

“Your Bhabhi has not come. She said she would not step into this house,” Christy murmurs in my ear.

“That's fine. She has her reasons,” I reply dejectedly.

“But she ensures that she helps us in every possible way. I met her as soon as I left. She left with me for school and spoke to our teachers to have a chat here. She even protested to our principal that she wouldn't leave until she spoke personally to Samir and his parents,” I open my eyes wide open as she keeps narrating. “Yes, and she did too. That moron finally accepted his mistake. His parents were still hostile. They accused her of trying to threaten him and confess to a mistake he had never committed. But they finally realised they were wrong. She has done her part.” 

 

I squeeze her hand, which I am holding in response, and tears of joy fill my eyes. I knew she wouldn't let me down. She might not be here right now, but she will always be by my side. I will miss that woman at home.

 

“Sara, how are you? Why haven't we seen you for so long?” Ms. Srija broke the ice. Ma and Baba were watching intently, expecting my next word.

“I wasn't well, miss,” I say, trying to sound convincing to my parents that I am still in repentance.

“No, you are not. We know everything, Sara. At least don't lie to our faces.” Ms. Srija’s words open the deep wounds in my heart. I don't turn to Ma and Baba, but I know their eyes are fixed on me.

 

“Sara’s Baba. We know you think it's your daughter’s fault. But trust us, it's not,” she says, and Baba is already staring at her silently.

“We don't want to hear anything. She doesn't need school anymore. It's time,” he replies as Bhai joins his side.

 

I know Bhabhi has tried her best to help me, but the real test awaits. 

“Ok, sir. You may not want to agree with me. But maybe you need to listen to this person talk,” she says, and we all look towards where she turns. 

 

This is a part of BlogchatterA2Z 2025 

#penbooksandscalpel