She's Taken

I'm Shy

Dharini's POV

Today, as I arrived at school, I saw Mishra sir parking his bike at the entrance. Just then, Drishu elbowed me and pointed out that he had just arrived. I felt too shy to face him. I was about to ask Drishu to go ahead before he saw us when sir turned and noticed us. We quickly looked away, pretending not to see him. It was so embarrassing.

"Jiji, he must think we're some creeps. Let's go inside quickly," Drishu said, and I couldn't agree more.

"Dharini," we suddenly heard Mishra sir's voice calling my name. Drishu and I exchanged glances. "Dharini," he called again.

"Jiji, he's calling you," Drishu nudged me.

I knew it.

"Dharini," sir called once more. Oh dear! He's calling me again.

We both turned to see him approaching us with a warm smile, which Drishu reciprocated. Did I just call Mishra sir's smile beautiful? Focus, Dharini.

"Good morning, sir. Y-yes, sir?" Drishu and I said in unison.

"Good morning," he replied, glancing at Drishu before looking back at me.

"Dharini, I need to talk to you about something important. Can we meet after school?"

Thank goodness he didn't mention "again" or "where we met last time," as I hadn't told Drishu about our previous meeting.

Drishu's nudge brought me out of my thoughts.

"Uh...um...o-okay, sir," I stammered.

He smiled. "Okay, have a great day," he said and went inside the school.

"What was that, Jiji?" Drishu asked.

"Um...what? He must have something important to talk about," I shrugged.

"Are you hiding anything from me?" she looked at me doubtfully.

"What would that be? Sir asked me to meet in front of you. You're acting as if I already met him secretly and am hiding it," I reasoned, hoping she'd believe my lie.

"No, Jiji, I just thought because you... never mind."

She bought it. I mentally patted myself for becoming such a good liar.

***

It was the first period, and I was already bored. Ugh, please God, make the Hindi teacher absent. I'm so sleepy. The bell rang, and Hindi sir entered.

"Su prabhat, bacchon" (Good morning, children), he greeted.

"Su prabhat, adhyapak ji" (Good morning, sir), we stood and greeted him in unison. He never used English words in class. He said that as a Hindi teacher, he should promote speaking Hindi. Even we couldn't use any English words in his class, or he'd punish us by making us stand on the bench or crouch like a chicken by holding our ears.

Finally, lunch break was over. Now Mishra sir would come and teach us Maths. My conscience mocked, not just me, but all of us.

He entered. "Good afternoon, sir," we said in unison. His eyes roamed the classroom and stopped at...me? Then he quickly diverted them to others. "Hm, sit down," he gestured with his fingers, then quickly started teaching.

I kept losing focus, not because I loved him but because I didn't like Maths. Would he teach me Maths even after our marriage?

Wait...love? Marriage? Where did that come from?

"I'm not interested in gossip, but I'd really like to know what's so important about Electromagnetic waves that you need to share it with your friends right now, Avinash and Jeet?" His words brought me back from my thoughts. He didn't even turn to look at who was talking. Genius.