Do you remember those school days… when waking up early felt like a punishment? Maybe not for everyone, but for us — mornings were a literal nightmare.
It was just another typical school morning in the Khanna household — aka, India's unofficial Olympic training ground for morning chaos.
Kashvi Khanna, the mother of our beloved Khanna siblings, yelled from the kitchen, "Rishu, wake up quickly! You'll be late!"
Viren Khanna, the father, was looking for his tie while simultaneously scolding his son for not packing his bag.
And poor Trisha… caught in the middle of this morning madness, already regretting being born on a weekday.
School wasn't the villain. The 6:30 AM alarm was.Classes? Meh.Teachers? Double meh — unless they cancelled class, then they were national heroes.
The road to school had a life of its own — part racetrack, part gossip club.Rickshaws honked like it was a concert. Cycles zig-zagged. Kids screamed over missed homework and surprise tests.There were always the same characters:
The toppers speed-walking like they had a syllabus in their shoes,
The "no worries" gang, taking detours for ₹10 aloo patties,
And the earphone-wearing loners, already looking like they hated group projects.
In the middle of all this, there was Trisha, dragging her feet, her mood zero, walking with her little brother Nirvan and younger sister Vritika. The three of them — a walking circus.
And just when she thought the morning couldn't get louder—
"Let's go Trishu! We'll be late!" Vanya's voice cut through the still morning air, as she juggled her tiffin and schoolbag in one hand and Nivan's sulking face in the other.
The street smelled of masala chai from the corner tea stall — the kind of smell that wrapped you like a warm blanket. The sky above was painted in soft orange and pink — calm, peaceful… the exact opposite of what was going on in Trisha's head.
"I'm coming! Don't rush like you're catching a train," Trisha called out, breathless, hair still half-wet from the rushed morning bath.
They walked this road every single day. The cracked pavement. The champa flowers blooming lazily. The newspaper-reading uncles who had nothing better to do than stare.
It was their route, their rhythm.
Nirvan, with his forever grumpy 14-year-old energy, muttered, "Why do we even walk? Papa has a car. Why can't we just—"
"Because Papa wants us to be independent," Vritika snapped, giving him the ultimate big-sister eye-roll.
"He doesn't want us to be independent, he wants to roast us in this heat," Trisha muttered dramatically, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her polka-dot handkerchief.
"Exactly," Nirvan chimed in, tossing his imaginary hair like a film hero,"A guy as handsome as me has to sweat in this heat… at least Papa should think about my image!"
Trisha snorted. "Yeah right. People literally say 'eww' when they see you."
She gave him a side-eye and slapped his shoulder."Who told you you're handsome? Look, some people may call you that to fool you… but don't fall for it. Look at your face in the mirror daily to shatter that illusion. Got it?"
"Hey!" Nirvan whined, offended like a true younger brother."I'm very handsome, okay? Don't drag me down with you! If you don't have a pretty face, at least talk nicely, Fatty!"
"Are you both done?" Vritika cut in like the mature middle-child she was."Now march. I don't want to be late on the first day!"She grabbed both their arms and marched them forward like a girl on a mission.
As they entered through the school gates, they paused.
The whole courtyard was buzzing — like a mini festival.
Kids were everywhere.Some talking excitedly about their new classes,Some standing in groups, gossiping, laughing.A few were already playing on the ground like it wasn't the first day of school.Some were trying to find their friends in the crowd,And others were — very seriously — arguing with the watchman near the cycle stand over where exactly their beloved ride should be parked.
The trio exchanged looks.
"What's going on? Why are all the kids roaming around like wild bulls?" Nirvan frowned.
"And that too with their bags," Trisha added, raising an eyebrow like a detective.
"They're roaming with bags because it's the first day of school… and no one knows their class yet," Vritika replied calmly, as if she had already mentally sorted this whole mess.
"Oh right!" Trisha gasped."We don't know our class either. Now we'll have to roam around in this heat too?"Her face screamed no, but destiny said yes.
"There are still 10 minutes before the assembly starts," Vritika glanced at her watch."Just wait 10 more minutes. Sir will announce the classes during the assembly."
Just then, a loud voice called out, "Hey Viru!"One of Vritika's friends was waving from the corner."Come here, what are you doing there?"
Vritika lit up. "Bye guys! I'm going… and all the best for your beginning!"She flashed a quick smile and hurried off toward her group.
"Bye Miss Time Table. All the best," Trisha and Nirvan said together in mock unison.
Moments later, Nirvan looked around like a radar scanning for his gang.
"She's gone. I'm going too. It'll take time to find my friends.Bye Fatty. All the best!" he grinned.
"Bye pig," Trisha smirked, punching his arm lightly."All the best to you too."
As Nirvan vanished into the sea of uniforms and Vritika disappeared with her gang of future CEOs, Trisha was left standing alone. Just her and her school bag, surrounded by what felt like 1,000 strangers.
She looked left. Then right. Then did a full 360 turn like a confused compass.
Where were they?
Her soul sisters. Her ride-or-die group.The ones who made biology lectures bearable and morning assemblies feel like talk shows.The people who made school feel like a movie.
"Oh come on!" she muttered under her breath, scanning the crowd of strangers with rising anxiety."They're nowhere to be seen… Did they not come today?"
Her heart did a little nervous bhangra.
"No no… think positive, Trisha," she whispered to herself, pacing through the assembly area like a detective on a mission."If they didn't come, how would I survive in this cruel school? I'd die, seriously! No no… We planned this. They love me too much. I swear I'll kill them!"
She stopped, placing her hand dramatically on her forehead like a soap opera heroine."Even a villain wouldn't have such a boring entry…"
But just as she was about to accept her tragic first-day fate...
Two arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders.
"Who is this? Hugging me in this heat!" she barked, ready to karate-chop whoever it was.
But when she turned and saw the faces — her own lit up brighter than a May afternoon.
"HEY!!!" she screamed, flinging her arms around them like they were long-lost cousins in a dramatic serial.
Ira. Ridhima.Her constants. Her chaos crew. Her "let's fail together" squad.
She hugged them tight, grinning like a 5-year-old with extra lunch.
"You guys came! I knew it — I KNEW it 100% that you wouldn't ditch me. Do you even know, for a moment I thought—"
She gasped dramatically.
"I thought you both had ditched me! I had even made a full plan… how I'd murder you both and where I'd hide the bodies… everything! But look, God is kind — they don't want blood on my hands!"
She said it all in one breath — like a news anchor on 3x speed.
"And why wouldn't they be? I'm their favorite, duh."
Ridhima burst into giggles. "Now who's sticking around in this heat, hmm?"
"Emotional moment happening, Ridz. Don't ruin it," Ira rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway, pulling Trisha into another hug."We missed you too, idiot."
"That's it," Trisha grinned, her voice suddenly soft,"Now it feels like the first day. Otherwise, it felt like I'd come to jail."
The three girls were still recovering from the hug when the mic cracked as usual — cursed, yet reliable.Trisha could almost predict the exact moment Mr. Gopal's "Good morning students" would turn into static.
"Good morning students," came the sleepy voice of Mr. Gopal — the admin in charge who hated mornings more than Trisha did."Please settle down. Today is the first day of the academic year, and class allocations will be announced shortly."
The crowd groaned in unison.
"It's starting," Ira sighed, fixing her school dress — the only one who still believed in looking assembly appropriate.
"I just have one worry," Ridhima whispered, "If the three of us get separated into different sections… I'm filling out my transfer certificate."
"Same!" Trisha whispered back. "I only join group study for group gossip. If I'm alone, I'll actually have to study."
They all stood in fake prayer pose, fingers joined but eyes peeking sideways.
Mr. Gopal began the slow roll call of class allotments.
"11-A... names are being sent to class notice board. 11-B…"
The moment he said "11-C," their ears perked up.
"Trisha Khanna, Ira Rao, Ridhima Shah…"
They froze.
"WE'RE TOGETHER!" Trisha gasped, hands flying to her mouth.
"We're in the same section??!" Ridhima squealed.
Ira looked up at the sky dramatically. "God, you really are the best!"
They did a little victory dance in place, trying not to be obvious in the still-ongoing prayer assembly.
The mic gave another loud screech, followed by the student leader's drone:
"All students, hands joined, eyes closed... Let's begin the morning prayer."
The whole ground went still-ish. Some joined hands like they were at a bhajan, others just pretended.
Trisha leaned closer to Ira and muttered, "These school people just want to torture us with the Sun every morning."
"Prayer is fine," Ridhima whispered, peeking from one eye, "But why does the mic always sound like mom's old mixer?"
The three joined hands obediently, but under their breath, the commentary continued.
"See, same prayer every year. Why not change it to lighten the mood?? Just once, make us pray to an Arijit Singh song — at least we'll sing from the heart," Trisha joked.
"'Tera Yaar Hoon Main' would get full attendance," Ira smirked.
The prayer ended. Mercifully short. But just when they thought they were free...
"Now, our respected Principal Sir will address the students."
A collective invisible groan rippled through the crowd.
"Great. Mood ruined," Ridhima said, already zoning out.
As Principal Sharma climbed the stage, half the crowd stood straighter. The other half perfected their invisible yawn technique.Every year, same speech. New batch. Old script. Legendary boredom.
"Good morning students," he began with the usual dramatic pause.
"Welcome to the new academic session. As we begin this year, I want each and every one of you to remember that discipline and dedication are the cornerstones of success…"
"And of boredom," Trisha mumbled, just loud enough for Ira and Ridhima.
"Sir's speeches never change. Every year, new batch — same script. Recycle hero," Ira whispered.
"Looks like today he stole an entire TED Talk from YouTube," Ridhima added, nodding seriously.
"…I expect punctuality, neatness, and full participation from all students," Principal Sir continued.
Trisha nudged Ira. "He's yelling about neatness — when there are three-year-old files lying in his cabin."
"And talking about participation when he's the one who broke the mic wire on annual day," Ira whispered, giggling.
Finally, after what felt like a whole Netflix season...
"Thank you. Have a productive day ahead."
"Finally! Freedom!" Ridhima sighed, doing a mini applause.
The bell hadn't even rung yet, but the halls were alive — chalk dust in the air, desks waiting to be claimed, and a million whispered "Bro, which section are you in?" echoing everywhere.
And in the middle of it all, Trisha walked with her besties.Same school. Same madness.But somehow, it all felt brand new.