I woke up to the sound of the devotional song drifting in from the nearby temple, the familiar rhythm tugging me gently out of my dream. My eyes wandered to the wall clock on my left. A soft groan escaped me—it was already past 6 a.m.
But today... today isn’t just any morning. It’s special. A new beginning. A whole new chapter.
First, let me introduce myself. I’m Pragya. Nineteen years old. I’ve grown up in an orphanage for as long as I can remember. Life hasn’t exactly handed me everything on a silver plate, but I’ve learned to find silver linings.
After I turned eighteen, I moved out into a hostel, juggling a part-time job at a departmental store while finishing my diploma in Mechanical Engineering. That’s right—Mech, as they call it. A rare sight, I know—a girl in grease-stained books and bolts. But I loved it.
And now, here I am, about to step into the gates of the top engineering college in India. Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? For someone like me—no family, no money—just a suitcase full of borrowed dreams and a scholarship earned with sleepless nights and stubborn hope... it is a dream.
I’ve always been the quiet one in the corner. No BFF to call my own. People either needed my notes or wanted my help with assignments. Beyond that, I might as well have been invisible.
Not that I mind. I like solitude. I’ve grown used to my own company. I’m not exactly talkative. Okay, let’s just say—I’m awkward. Shy, even. But oddly, when I’m nervous, I blurt out things I probably shouldn’t. Yeah, I know. Not cute. Just... weird. But hey, weird grows on you.
A sudden clang of the temple bell snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I checked the time again—6:10 a.m. Time to stop romanticizing my life and start living it.
Dragging myself out of bed with all the grace of a half-awake panda, I headed to the washroom for my morning routine. And then, with the kind of excitement I hadn’t felt in years, I slipped into my favorite blue chudithar—the one that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, this world has a place for someone like me too.
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After slinging my bag—packed meticulously the night before—over my shoulder and tucking my mobile into its usual place, I whispered a small prayer to my favorite god, Ganesh. My go-to for strength, especially on days like this. Then, locking the hostel door behind me, I made my way to the mess for a quick breakfast, my stomach fluttering with nerves more than hunger.
