Hi, I'm Siddharth, a 39-year-old project manager in an IT firm. I'd like to share a story about a phase of my life that I find myself often traveling back to. But before I get into that, let me give you a brief overview of myself. I'm a simple guy from Kerala, from a place called Tiruvalla. I was born and brought up in the busy streets of Mumbai, where you're always on the move. I come from a nuclear family that faced many challenges as outsiders in a place we weren't welcome. My philosophy in life is to keep things simple and have minimal expectations. That's just a gist about me, but you'll get to know more about me as you read my story about that beautiful phase of my life.
It all began when my grandfather fell ill, and we had to move to Kerala for a year, or so we thought. I had just completed my 7th standard and was there for vacation. However, the vacation was extended, and my family decided to stay in Kerala. My father took a break from work and decided to help with the family business. The major challenge, though, was finding a school for me. I had good grades and was academically proficient, but getting into a school in higher secondary is never easy. So my parents enrolled me in the nearest school.
I won't compare the schooling systems of Mumbai and Kerala, but there's a vast cultural gap for someone trying to fit in. Bullying was a common occurrence, but thanks to my parents, I could at least speak and read Malayalam. On my first day of school, I was asked to sit in the fourth row. Since it was my first day, I decided to get there early and settle in before the other classmates arrived. When everyone settled in, the class teacher introduced me to the class, and I immediately recognized which kids to avoid. The lectures began, and during breaks, everyone came and spoke to me, which was nice, but there was also some resistance. When I went home and told my father about my day, he was amused.
Days went by, and then one day, things changed. We were asked to shuffle for one period, and I was paired with a classmate named Kavya. She was dressed neatly in her uniform, had nicely tied hair, and had a long, lush mane. She had a beautiful smile, and she introduced herself. I was a little hesitant to open up, so I kept my distance. Kavya then told me that she and her friends had talked about me and were planning a surprise. I was taken aback because I didn't know anyone knew about me or my hobbies. The next lecture was a fun activity, and the teacher asked me if I could inaugurate the cultural event for the year with a song. This was a pleasant surprise because I didn't tell anyone in the class that I liked to sing. For Kavya to have figured that out was very special. I went in front of the classroom and sang a Hindi song. The class accepted me, and I felt welcome in a place where I wasn't very comfortable.
From then on, whenever Kavya passed by, I would smile, and she would smile back. I didn't know what was different, but I unexpectedly found a friend in Kavya, who always supported me despite my struggles with Malayalam. Her warmth and acceptance made me feel more comfortable in school, but I knew I had to stay focused on my academics as well. After a few terms, I worked hard and became a top student, earning acceptance and admiration from my teachers. However, Kavya's approval was what truly mattered to me, and I found myself seeking validation from her.
As time passed, our seats in class were shuffled around, and I always hoped to be near her. One day, Kavya asked to borrow my book for homework, and when she returned it, I found a note inside. It asked me to sing a song of my choice at the upcoming annual event. Wanting to impress her, I stayed up all night trying to choose the perfect song. But what kept me up even more was the thrill of receiving that special note from her.
I chose a song that I hoped she would love, and performed it at the event. Afterward, I searched for her to see if she enjoyed it, but couldn't find her anywhere. I felt disappointed, but also curious to know if she had heard me sing. I kept practicing and singing that song, hoping to impress her.
The next day, I was late for class, but seeing her beautiful smile made my heart race. During lunch break, Kavya asked to borrow my book again, and when she returned it, there was another note inside. It read, "I somehow knew you would sing this song. It's my favorite song." That note, in her handwriting, was all I needed to realize that I was in love with her. No other compliment could compare to the feeling of seeing her appreciation in writing.
