Today I woke up early again. The hostel was quiet, and I liked it that way. I followed my usual morning routine—twelve rounds of Surya Namaskaram, then a quick bath, a short meditation session, and then I went down to collect my milk.
Back in the room, I opened my books. I quickly completed the remaining math problems I had left unfinished last night and revised some grammar rules and essay formats for English. My handwriting looked neat, thank God. I packed my things, double-checked my timetable, and was out of the hostel before most of the girls even woke up.
At the school block, I found Nishanth already sitting in our classroom, flipping through a notebook.
"We need to start preparing for publishing," he said, looking up. "And we should announce it properly—in assembly and also on the notice board."
I nodded, feeling the excitement building in my chest. "Yes, I was thinking we can use today's computer period. I'll prepare the notice board content there."
"And we should include how to join Student Voice, right? Like a call for volunteers?" he added.
"Exactly," I said. "And also maybe a section on how to submit articles and what the publishing process will look like."
Nishanth nodded. "Also, let's get confirmation from Computer Sir. If everything goes well, we might even publish the first digital issue tomorrow."
"That would be perfect," I said. "If we use our study hour well, we can wrap up the formatting and final edits today."
We high-fived, low and quick, then packed away our books and left for assembly.
The assembly was peaceful today. We began with a few minutes of pranayama and silent meditation, and then the prayer song echoed through the ground as the breeze picked up. It always calmed me down—like a reset button.
After assembly, we headed to the dining hall for breakfast. I wasn't particularly hungry, but I made sure to eat something. Energy is essential. No running on fumes.
Our first two periods were both science classes. The moment the science ma'am entered the class, she didn't even greet us.
"Whoever didn't submit the science assignment, step out now," she said, placing her books on the table.
Only five or six students stood and slowly walked out, heads down. Everyone else jumped up and made a mad dash to her desk. Staplers clicked and paper rustled loudly as students scrambled to organize their pages.
I had already stapled mine yesterday, so it was still in my school bag, but others were borrowing staplers like it was oxygen. I handed mine to someone who asked for it, and then it vanished into a chain of hands.
I watched the chaos calmly, glad I had finished everything on time. That peace of mind was a luxury I never want to give up again.
Eventually, Aarthi walked up to me with my stapler. "Thank you," she said.
"No mentions," I replied with a small smile.
She smiled back and walked off. It was a small moment, but one that reminded me: helping someone doesn't always need a second thought. It's the accusations that sting, not the requests.
As the science ma'am started explaining the new topic, I took out my notebook and focused on taking clean notes. But in the back of my mind, I was already drafting the notice board announcement. Something catchy. Something that makes people feel like they belong.
After that, we had English class. It was calm and peaceful—no surprise checks or assignments, just a quiet class that gave me space to breathe. During the short break, I stepped out to check what we got for drinks. I was so glad to see it was masala buttermilk. Cool, spicy, and tangy—it felt perfect for the heat that had started creeping in since morning. Small joys like this sometimes make the day a bit easier.
Then came the two periods of Social Science. The first one was Political Science, and we were starting our first chapter: "What is Democracy? Why Democracy?" When the teacher entered, she got straight to the point.
"Your assignment topic is Democracy," she said. "You can write about our country or choose another country—or even compare two or three. But whatever you choose, the central theme must stay focused on democracy. At least one full page should explore the democratic structure of a specific country."
She added, "We've already completed one chapter in History and one in Economics. I expect you all to complete the book back questions and answers for those too. If you finish the current Political Science chapter in time, good. But I'll give you two to three days after we finish it to complete the classwork. As for the democracy assignment—it's due on Monday. Minimum of five pages."
A collective sigh echoed across the room. Just as I had guessed—it was going to be another round of notes checking.
After that, we headed to lunch. Since it was compulsory for students to sit class-wise during breakfast and lunch, all our girls sat together. But unlike usual, the conversation at the table felt stiff and awkward. A few whispered something, some stared at their plates like the sambar had personal drama, and others tried to act normal. I didn't want to read too much into it, so I finished my lunch in just ten minutes and left early to return to class.
After lunch, the Math teacher walked in. Thankfully, she introduced a new topic, so the entire class paid attention. It wasn't a revision or a test, just a new lesson—and I tried to focus fully.
After that came our PT period. We were split up—girls were asked to play kho-kho while the boys went to the other side of the field to play football. I wasn't particularly great at kho-kho, but I joined in. It felt good to be outside after sitting through so many classes.
After games, the teachers made us sit down for the mandatory five-minute meditation right there on the ground. Our school has this routine three times a day—morning assembly, right after the seventh period, and one more before evening study. A lot of the students found it boring or unnecessary. But I didn't mind. They might not get it now, but when they grow up and barely have five minutes to breathe between responsibilities, they'll realise how precious even five minutes of peace is.
After the meditation, we had our second language class—French. As I walked into the classroom, I sensed it was going to be a checking day. And I was right.
The French teacher walked in with a detailed mark sheet and began calling roll numbers. One by one, we were asked to bring our notebooks and textbooks for checking. When my name was called, I walked up with confidence.
I stood near her desk and saw that 10 marks had been allotted for the assignment—we had submitted that earlier—and I had secured full marks. Another 10 marks were for our internal exams (unit tests), and another 10 were for the viva, which I assumed meant spoken French. Then 5 marks were for our textbook and classwork presentation, and 5 more for classroom response. One column—another 10 marks—was still unfilled.
"Ma'am," I asked politely, "Can you please explain how the marks are being allotted for FA-1?"
She smiled and began listing:
10 marks for Internal Exam (Unit 1)
10 marks for Internal Exam (Unit 2)
10 marks for Viva (Oral/Spoken)
10 marks for Assignment (already submitted)
5 marks for Notebook and Textbook (neatness and completion)
5 marks for Class Response
"Thank you, Ma'am," I said.
She wrote the same breakdown on the board for everyone to note down. "This is the format I'll follow for FA-1. Make sure you're keeping track of your own scores so there are no surprises."
Then we had our Computer class again. It was still PowerPoint practice. I finished the assigned task faster than most since I already knew the tools. I used the rest of the time to start preparing a poster for the notice board—to announce the launch of Student Voice.
It was finally happening. We were not just imagining the magazine anymore—we were about to publish it. And tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan, we might even release our first digital edition.