The Rollercoaster Ride

PART-15

Ira stood before the one-tiered building. Its plain facade was belied by the whimsical sign creaking gently in the breeze. "Let your fingers dance." A wry smile twisted one corner of her mouth as she eyed the words.

Her lips curled up in a mix of amusement and trepidation. Clutching her notebook tightly, she fidgeted with the pen's cap, clinking it open and shut with a nervous rhythm.

As she stepped inside, the florescent lights hummed above, casting an eerie glow on the rows of computers. The air was thick with the scent of fresh paper and the faint tang of electronics.

Two rows of five devices each stretched before her, occupied by eight students. Six boys, some around the same age as her and some older than her, laughed and joked. Their banter filling the room with a comfortable camaraderie that made Ira's solitude feel more pronounced.

To her left, two girls chatted quietly, their heads bent together in a conspiratorial whisper. Ira's eyes wandered, searching for directions, but the room seemed to lack a clear authority figure.

Uncertain, she drifted toward the solidarity empty chair in the corner, her footsteps echoing off the walls. As she settled in, her fingers traced the keyboard's curves, the tactile sensation a fleeting comfort.

As she waited, her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the electic mix of students. Her fingers absently played with the intricate hem of her kurti, the soft fabric a comforting distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind.

"What's the big deal about typing, anyway?" she wondered. "Anybody can type." But as she watched the student's flying fingers, her curiosity got the better of her. "How do they do that without looking at the keyboard?" It was as if their hands had developed a memory of their own, effortlessly dancing across the keys.

Ira's eyes lingered on a boy with curly hair and tanned skin, his focus solely on the screen as his fingers moved with harmony. She felt a pang of insecurity. Would she be able to keep up?

Her attention snapped back to the present on hearing the instructor heavy voice. "Alright, everyone! Pay attention here. Today, we have a new face with us." Mr. Patel, a man in his mid-30s. His voice pierced the air, making every face turn towards him. His eyes scanned the room, his gaze lingering on each student before settling on Ira.

"Yeah, you. Ms. Ira!" he said with a warm smile, his hand extending in invitation.

Ira's heart skipped a beat. Every head swiveled toward her, their curious eyes making her skin prickle. She squealed inwardly, her face warming up with embarrassment.

With a hesitant motion, she rose up from seat, her chair scraping against the floor, making it more awkward. She smoothed her kurti, buying time to compose herself. As she walked towards Mr. Patel, the room seemed to shrink, every step echoing through the silence.

Mr. Patel encouraging smile put Ira at ease. "Welcome, Ira. We are excited to have you join our little community. Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

Ira's mind went blank. She gulped nervously, her eyes darting toward the floor as she struggled to find her voice. With trembling voice, she began to speak, her words barely above a whisper.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Her gaze flickered across the room, avoiding direct contact with anyone.

"My name is Ira kashyap," she paused, taking a shallow breath.

"I'm here to... enhance my typing skills, and learn a bit more about the system." The words tumbled out hastily, followed by a hasty. "Thank you!"

Ira's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she awaited the inevitable silence, or worse, ridicule. But instead, a warm smile from everyone welcomed her.