THEN

The day I score more than sixty-two on maths, the sun will rise from the west and the world will come to its demise. Probably that’s why the whole universe conspires to keep me from reaching it.

I sat like a man defeated in the battle of life, holding the piece of paper that just caused an acute malfunction in my whole anatomy.

My eyes zeroed in on the word "Mathematics" and then followed the line right to the number.

09.

My ninth-grade midterm math score. I have been planning to crack the JEE with this.

Nice joke.

09? Seriously? Look, I'll be honest, math and I have a straight-up bloody rivalry. I know I had to memorize answers just to get through the common questions. But even if I assume that every single thing I tried to memorize was totally wrong... my internal assessment score alone should have pulled me up to at least a 10.

What the hell did they do to my answer paper?

I felt like pressing my hand to cover my mouth and cry as if my husband had died. But that couldn't be possible for two reasons.

One, I didn’t have a husband who could die; I wasn’t even sure I was ever gonna have one. I mean, who's gonna marry a girl who keeps failing in math exams like first grade?

Second and most important, the amount of tears I shed just a week ago, the night before the maths test, was enough to keep fish happily alive in a big ass aquarium. Just the thought of crying, as the back of my eyes burned, sent triggers to my system.

“Tara, where are you lost? You must be ranking; let me see.” My friend Roshni nudged me and took the paper from my hand, but the moment she did, someone snatched it from her. I looked up.

Tanya Joshi. One of the greatest and cheapest ‘pick-me’s I have ever crossed paths with. God, not now.

“Why hide, Tara? Let's see how extraordinary our top student Tara's results ca– OH MY…” She shrieked, fake though, and I internally slapped my head, and at the same time, I heard Roshni fight back a loud UGHH with an exhale. There's gonna be a big boss season 9 edition of Tanya Joshi now.

“MY GOD, Tara, you only got 09 in maths?” She exclaimed as if the paper insulted her beauty. Gasps and huh’s floated in the air as every pair of eyes found me.

Ghatiya Nautankiwali.

[Petty drama queen. ]

“Why, Tara, why? Were you busy crying for the boys' attention instead of studying? I had so many high hopes for you. What is going to happen now? How are you going to give the finals and then boards, huh?” I swear she could win Dramatic- no, ‘Over Dramatic Mother of the Year’ if she joined ‘Star Plus’.

“Jiska hai, wo dekh lega. Tum hato, Tanya.” Roshni now stood up, trying to take the result card back, but she moved farther back.

“Roshni, why are you talking to me like this? I am just expressing my concern–”

I muttered, 'Concern ki maa,' and finally took a step forward, giving her an ultimatum with my eyes:** You better back off and hand my damn report card over if you want to be safe.

But the reality was miles away from that silent threat. I was genuinely not the type to get involved in anything close to a violent confrontation or ugly fight with anyone, whether it was a male or a female. Most people in my family occasionally called me mute because of my introverted nature and my strict abstinence from most crowds where I sensed more than fifty percent of the people were unknown to me.

There’s a reason my family had to keep me in mind before choosing a bloody action movie for our family movie nights.

This time, Roshni came forward and gave the card back to me after taking it from her.

“Thank you so, so, so much for your almost real Concern, Tanya. Now get back to your place and continue experimenting with ideas from your book ‘How to Chase Boys 101’. Because, as we know, you are not good at studies at all. What’s gonna happen if you fail to get picked up by boys too?” Tanya turned red from embarrassment as the classroom was filled with low, satirical giggles.

“Tara, tu Jake dekh, koi galti bhi ho sakti hai.” I nodded; I could be bad- not bad, probably worst at maths- get 50/40/30, even twenty, but not 09. It doesn't make sense.

I walked up to the teacher's room where Mr Ahuja, who usually handled these final mark checks, was busy convincing his pregnant wife on video call to eat one more apple slice while leaning on the table.

“Baby, Jaan, Babu, one more—” he paused, taking a long drink from his water bottle as his eyes fell on me, standing rigid right in front of his desk.

My expression must have been lethal; I looked as though I’d just caught him murdering someone, resulting in the water getting caught in his throat—he choked and spat out the water. At the same time, the bottle in his hand jerked violently upward with the sudden pressure of his hand.

Since I was standing directly in the line of fire, the inevitable happened: the water thrown out of his mouth and bottle both were on me.

Kiski mu Dekhi thi uthne ke bad…

[Whose face did I see waking up…]

I wiped my hand down my face, calmly, and slid the card on the desk towards him; even his brows furrowed, absorbing the scenery in front of him.

"Kya hua?" A female voice from the phone snapped.

[What happened?]

"Nothing, Jaanu. Clerk hai, main abhi call back karti hun, tum wo slice khatam karo." He assured his wife with a smiley face. 

[Nothing, Jaanu. It's the clerk; I will call you right back. You finish the slice.]

Clark? Me?  Though I shouldn't be shocked that he lied to his wife. This grown-up, middle-aged man had married a girl seventeen years younger than him, who is now drilling his life because she's a–something. If he ever goes missing one day, then people will just know the answer. Controversies sparked, but neither the husband nor the wife had an issue with their marriage; moreover, he will do anything his wife says. 

Aur karo beti ki umar ki ladki se shaadi.

[Go, and marry a girl of your daughter's age.]

Men, what else needs to be said?

Though Khushi Di would have had the proper words to describe him, which only she can utter.

“There must be something wrong, sir. Maybe I failed, but I didn't get a 9. If that really happened, let me see my answer paper then.” I finally managed to speak the words, almost on the verge of breaking. I was barely holding back my tears.

“Ah, I think so. Don't worry, beta, I will check it now, and beta, sorry for the water,” he said with an apologetic smile. But my mental situation was in a far worse state than even thinking about that.

“Get it fixed today, before the classes are over, sir. I can't go home with this.” Now two tears slid down my cheeks.

“Aha, baccha rote nahi, go to your classroom. I am seeing what happened.” He patted my head and handed me the handkerchief he used just a while ago to wipe the table clean.

I stared at him, returning his handkerchief, “Koi baat nahi.”

[It’s okay.]

❃

I stared at my reflection in the restroom mirror. My lips were a washed-out, sickly white, and a heavy layer of darkness consumed my eyes, making them look sunken. All this damage was earned in a single night, spent battling a fever induced by the sheer dread of sitting for a math test.

Now, tears flowed freely. A severe headache ripped across my skull, and I fell, momentarily losing control. Oh God, I still have two classes left. Get yourself together, Nayan. I wrestled back my composure, quickly washed my face, and returned to the classroom.

I wasn't truly present until our class teacher walked in, holding a new paper—not a report card, but some kind of copy.

“Attention, students,” she announced, “we have a very important correction to make. The recorded mark for Nayantara Jindal’s math paper was simply incorrect.”

The moment I heard the word "incorrect," a ragged breath escaped my lips. My entire body, unknowingly coiled tight, immediately went limp with relief.

I looked at Mrs. Chauhan. She had just been saved from getting metaphorically butchered at my house tonight. I felt a surge of relief that she was the one who came with the news. I always feel this inexplicable need to remain in her good graces, to please her. Oh, wait. I do know.

She is my grandmother’s best friend’s second daughter-in-law.

Yep, that’s right. All my elder cousins and siblings had passed out of this school, and Mrs. Chauhan was essentially the one designated to keep an eye on all of us. Now, I was the only one left under her supervision.

“It's 60, which became 09 due to a technical malfunction. We sincerely apologise for this.” She glared at Mr. Ahuja, who looked at her with the same apologetic look he gave me earlier. It didn't work on her, but her eyes kind of softened for a second when she caught my pale face.

“Get back to your study, students.” She headed out of the classroom, and I sighed in relief.

Sixty it is; still, I couldn't go higher than sixty-two this time, too. There was still a small lecture waiting for me at home, I guess.

Main kya karun, main Pagal ho jati hun maths ke bare me jab bhi soch ti hun…Kya Hoga Mera…

[ What do I do? I go crazy whenever I think about math... What will become of me... ]

❃

I came home, totally busted.

“Nayan, beta, aja. Maine kheer banai hai, chakh le.”

[Nayan, child, come here. I made kheer; taste it. ]

“Haan, Taru, aja, main bohot Kam to kha Rahi hun par yeh bahut tasty hai.” My elder sister, Khushi Di, chirped.

[Yes, Taru, come — I'm eating very little, but this is really tasty.]

“Bad mein, Dadi.” I dismissed them. Dadi's face became pouty as she bent and whispered something into my elder sister Khushi Di’s ear, something I shouldn't hear. But in that moment, Dadi’s phone rang.

[Later, Dadi.]

“Are meri best friend ne call kia hain, Khushi beta, jake thodi chai le aa; mere liye chai pite pite bat karenge apni pyarri saheli se,” Dadi said, and my heartbeat stopped for a second. Best friend? That means Mrs. Chauhan’s mother-in-law.

[Oh, my best friend has called — Khushi, sweetheart, go bring some tea; I'll chat with my dear friend over tea.]

Dhet! Dimaag kharap ho jayegi meri sochte sochte.

[Ugh! My mind is going to go crazy just from thinking about it.]

I went upstairs, took a shower, and put on a dull, dead yellow t-shirt, matching my mood, with white trousers.

I was looking dull, great, cuz that's how I'm feeling.

Back downstairs, each one of my beautiful joint family sat, occupying the whole living room. I had a copy of my corrected result folded inside my pocket; the actual one would take time to be printed.

“Aree agayi hamari Nayan, school kaisa tha aaj?” Bade Papa asked, and I froze for a second before nodding, “Achhi thi.”

[Oh, our Nayan is here — how was school today? ]

[It was good.]

“Oho, aaj to results day thi na, Nayan?” asked my cousin Surya bhai the moment we took our seats at the dining table. This man is always more than ready to tease me or anyone else, no matter how much he cares for us. He just loves putting people on the spot, especially when he knows it’s like throwing them into a river filled with crocodiles.

[Oh, today was results day, right, Nayan?]

Every pair of eyes turned towards me.

Bacha lo mujhe bhagwan.

[Save me, God.]

“What are your results, Baccha?” Now Dad asked. “87%,” I answered, looking at my plate, and everyone made a noise of satisfaction at hearing this. But then my sister made her statement, which was more like a question: “Maths?” That made everyone stop and refocus on me.

“Ab bas bhi kar, 87% layi hain meri bacchi ne kinti mahnat se, phir kyu ye saari bateein-”

[Okay, that's enough now — my child brought 87% with so much hard work, so why all this talk—]

“60.” I didn’t let Dadi finish. Silence, a very annoying one. Each passing second made the back of my eye turn warmer.

A cough, fake, made by my dad now. My saviour. “So, what? Next time it will be better. We will change the current coaching and find a new one where there will be a far better teacher for my Nayan to guide her to get more marks in maths.” And there it goes, my 33rd Math teacher changes.

"PHIRSE???" a collective chorus floated through the air.

[AGAIN???]

Congrats to me.

Well, I know my dad wants the best for me, but the other subjects are completely okay at my present academy.

Before I could protest, my mother joined. “ What’s the benefit of changing teachers every once in a while? How can she get accustomed to every new teacher and their teaching that quickly? It’s a waste of time. Besides, all the past teachers we brought before weren’t at fault; we should think about something else.”

She was right. The problem wasn’t the teachers; it was me. I had either a math-intolerant brain or I had potential (non-existent currently, by the way), but I couldn’t unlock it. I would really love to stick to reason B.

“Par agar-” My dad started, but closed his mouth as soon as he caught Mom glaring.

[But if,]

“Main apni aur ek dost ko phone laga-” My elder brother, Siddharth Bhai, also started along with my sister- “I need to find the perfect nail polish shade for this situation.”

[I will call one of my other friends-]

“ Beta, real-life incident ke liye bhi koi shade ho sakta hai kya?” Now ChotiBua.

[Child, can there be shades for real-life incidents as well?]

“Why nottt? For situations like this, we could use Neon Coral/ Hot Pink with-”

“Arre, kya shuru kiya hai, Sulekha tum-” One of the sensible members of the family, my Harshil Phoopha, finally started, but guess what, men in our house were gone cases for their wives.

[What have you started, Sulekha–]

Bua's pout made him change his words. “-Pyaari lag Rahi ho, make-up kharab ho Jayega. Khana Khao?”

[You’re looking pretty; eat?]

Surya bhai, Khushi di, and Siddharth bhai all shared the same look, shaking their heads with a smile.

Woah. Kya family hai meri.

“AB SAB LOG BAS KARO.” Dadi’s voice silenced everyone; love you, Dadi, my favorite savior.

[Everyone, stop now.]

“Bahut hua, ab hum jo kahenge, wahi hoga.” Everyone, including me, looked at her, curious.

[Enough, now things will happen according to me.]

“Hum apni Nayan ko aise nahi dekh sakte, Isiliye Humne apni saheli se baat ki hain, Uski beta Karthik ka bada beta Anirudh videsh se wapas ayi hain. Wo jab tak is desh mein hain, tab tak humari Nayan ko Maths padhaygi.” Dadi concluded, and everyone looked at each other and then nodded unitedly, “Ok, Maa.”

[I can’t see my Nayan like this; that’s why I have called my bestie. Her grandson Anirudh has come back to the country; he will tutor our Nayan as long as he’s here.]

I remained rooted to my chair, looking at Dadi.

The protector turned into the predator. It was technically equal to being sentenced to death by hanging.

Ani–rudh?

Anirudh Chauhan?

Matlab, Chauhan group ki CEO?

Matlab, Mrs. Chauhan ka beta?

Matlab wo Akdu-Pakdu-Gussa nak pe rehne wali- Mr. Chirchira?

Bhagwan mujhe please bacha lo.

✰ To Be Continued ✰

A/N

So, this was the beginning of Anirudh and Nayantara's story. Hope you liked it, and buckle up cuz the next chapters are gonna be much better and more fun (wink)*.
Also, should I include translations of Hindi dialogues too? Please do lemme know.
The next chapter's gonna be posted soon; take love and Thank You.