Chapter 1 – God Bless You – The Beginning of the Beginning

It was the year 2014, Rahul was in Class 10 at a small state syllabus school in Bengaluru. That delicate age when the world starts looking like a movie and you’re convinced you’re the hero, even though you still have to beg your mom for money to go to canteen. He wasn’t the cool kid, nor the invisible one, just comfortably in between, like a punctuation mark in a sentence no one reads twice.

He loved Hrithik Roshan the way some people loved God. Every dance competition, every mirror in his house, was a stage. The boy had rhythm in his bones and Michael Jackson posters on his bedroom wall, right next to the timetable he never followed. His mornings began not with prayer, but with him trying the “Ek Pal Ka Jeena” step and kicking the cupboard by mistake and later praying to God with the hope that someday he would dance like both.

On the other corner of the same class was Naina…..well Naina…Naina… Naina…, Naina looked like she belonged in a better-lit world. Her hair was always neatly parted and tied, not one strand out of place, as if gravity respected her more than others.

She wasn’t the typical studious girl teachers showed off in assemblies. Naina was an all-rounder in the most unfair way possible, she could sing in perfect pitch, act in every annual-day drama, and dance like her feet were personally trained by Shiamak Davar (or whoever is the best dance teacher in the country). She’d walk into class, Shirt neatly ironed, eyes calm, smile measured, the kind of girl who made even chalk dust behave.

Rahul used to sit three benches behind her, pretending to copy notes while actually observing her handwriting. “Even her cursive has discipline,” he once whispered to Gokul, his best friend, who immediately responded with, “Bro, you need help.”

But Rahul couldn’t explain it, the way she carried herself, the way she laughed without trying too hard. She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t fake. She was just… balanced. Like the kind of person who drinks water and actually finishes her homework on the same day.
Rahul, meanwhile, was chaos with a backpack. His hair had its own personality, his shirt was never fully tucked in, and his shoelaces were always undone, as if no one had ever taught him how to tie them, and his idea of flirting was smiling till his jaw hurt. He had all the intensity of a romantic hero trapped in a schoolboy’s timetable. Once, he tried to practice his “serious look” in front of the mirror and ended up looking constipated. He had the heart of a poet but the social skills of a malfunctioning printer. He believed the world was waiting for his grand love story the world, unfortunately, the world, hadn’t been informed.

By now you probably would’ve understood where I am going with this… yes, Rahul was in love with Naina. And if you asked him when he fell in love with her, he’ll say he’s been in love with her for the past couple of months, because that’s when maturity hit most of the boys in his class (as rumored), and that’s when he understood what “love” is. This is just to ensure that people don’t mistake his “love” for “affection,” “attraction,” “infatuation,” or maybe even “lust.” But seriously, our man Rahul has been in love with her since the day she said “God bless you” when he sneezed once back in 7th standard.

Yup! That’s right, ladies, basic manners, or more like consideration for a fellow human being, is what made this young man fall in love with Naina. From that day, it wasn’t just Ek Pal Ka Jeena playing alone in his home, it was followed by Mere Naina, a reprised butchered acoustic version of the otherwise great song Tere Naina from My Name is Khan. He would loudly sing around, “Aise naino ki baaton mein koi kyun na aaye…Mere Naina..”

One afternoon, when the class was half-asleep during Maths class, Rahul leaned over to Gokul and whispered, “Bro, I think I’m in love.”

Gokul blinked, unimpressed. “With who, bro?”

“Naina.” Said Rahul

Gokul stared. Twice.
“Head-girl Naina? Class topper Naina? Annual-day main dancer Naina?”

“Yes,” Rahul said proudly, puffing his chest like a pigeon showing confidence for the first time.

Gokul sighed. “You? With her? Bro, you can’t even maintain eye contact with the black board, how you going to even stand next to her?”

Rahul ignored him. “No, bro, it’s different. She smiled at me yesterday.”

“She was probably being polite.”

“Still counts,” Rahul insisted.

Gokul sighed so loud the entire row turned to look.
But then something unexpected happened.
He didn’t discourage Rahul.
He leaned in and whispered, “Okay, bro, you are my brother… if you’re serious, let’s do FLAMES.”

Rahul’s eyes widened. “FLAMES? Serious-ah?”

Gokul nodded with the gravitas of a man who had lived three romantic lives in a past birth. He grabbed Rahul’s notebook, wrote RAHUL and NAINA.

Rahul was excited… and as Gokul started, he cut down one “A” from “Naina” and the only “A” from “Rahul.”

Rahul asked, confused, “Why are you cutting A’s?”

Gokul didn’t look up.
“Common letters bring bad luck. You have to remove them. Trust me.”

But there’s one more “A” in Naina which is left, Gokul looks at Rahul with so much conviction and says “that’s not the common A”. Rahul was so confused that he had the same reaction when he got his maths marks, “What did I get this 1 mark for…the paper is empty..”.

At that moment, Gokul looked like a fully licensed astrologer who could easily start charging INR 500 per reading. Rahul almost expected him to say, “Mercury is in retrograde, buddy… tough times.”

Gokul began counting, muttering numbers under his breath like a man diffusing a bomb, and the first letter he cut was “L,” which stood for Love. Rahul’s eyes almost teared up. Gokul looked at him like a sympathetic astrologer and said, “Don’t worry, there’s ‘M’ still left.” M stood for Marriage

The “astrology for the confused” which is just “astrology”, went on for another 15 minutes because they couldn’t stop thinking about the PT period they had later, and eventually it came down to just “A” and “S.” Yes, “M” was gone, and “S” meant Sister, which was very concerning.

But Gokul said, “Don’t worry. There’s A. A is very powerful.”

Rahul whispered, “Bro… what is A?”

The way Gokul turned to look at him, That pure disappointment…Gokul looked at Rahul the way my mom looks at me when I pretend to sleep during prayer time. 

He almost shouted, “Blasphemmyyyyyy!”
That “how dare you question me?” energy…

Then he calmed himself and said, “You’ll know.” Rahul didn’t dare to ask again.

The FLAMES ended at “A.” Gokul had a mixed expression of confusion and sadness, but then again, that’s how everyone looked during Maths class, so it was hard to tell the difference

Rahul asked again, “But what does ‘A’ mean?”

Gokul began, “A meant…” but before he could finish, the Maths teacher saw him talking and kicked him out of class. As Gokul exited, he still had the same expression, now seasoned with a pinch of anger on top….

Left alone and unconvinced about Gokul’s FLAMES result, Rahul took out the book again. He wrote their names and the word “FLAMES,” but this time he didn’t cut the common letters. He was brave. He knew his mission.

He started counting the letters, went through FLAMES, and this time the count ended at M, and he had to cut down M.  Hope of Marriage destroyed….Rahul, teary-eyed, slammed the book shut and closed it dramatically…

It was lunch time, Gokul came and sat next to Rahul, and asked, “Bro, Why you staring at the black board man?”…. Rahul like a poet fresh out of a breakup he never actually had, “Well…just looking at how much future would look like without Naina….dark…..pointless…..empty…..” 

Gokul bringing back his confused face, rolled his eyes, then leaned forward with the seriousness of a guru. “Okay, listen to me carefully. To impress a girl, you must become SRK.”

Rahul frowned. “SRK? Why not Hrithik?”

Gokul slapped his forehead. “Because Hrithik looks like a Greek God and you look like a biscuit waiting to drown in tea and also, SRK is about feelings, bro, eyes, charm, confusion, and see…you already have confusion.”

Rahul protested, “But I don’t like SRK, bro. I’m a Hrithik guy.”

Gokul smirked. “Your name is Rahul, macha. When your parents named you, they were already thinking of SRK. Don’t betray your destiny.”

Rahul looked at his friend, the same friend who once told the teacher “none of my family members are doctors” when asked who his family doctor was, and wondered how this self-proclaimed love expert had suddenly become a relationship guru.

Still, he listened. Gokul continued like a motivational speaker who had found his TED Talk moment:
Rule 1: Girls are goddesses, macha. Respect them like you respect your exam results.
Rule 2: Don’t stare, don’t drool, don’t act desperate. Just act mysterious.
Rule 3: Never say ‘Hi’. Say ‘Hey’… it sounds cooler.

Rahul nodded gravely, as if he’d been handed the Bhagavad Gita of Romance.

For the next few days, he prepared. He ironed his uniform properly for once. He used a little too much hair gel. He borrowed Gokul’s deodorant and almost choked himself. In class, he practiced saying “Hey” under his breath till his bench mate asked if he was summoning ghosts.

On a Thursday, Rahul woke up earlier than usual. He ironed his uniform (the shirt still wrinkled itself out of habit). He combed his hair obsessively. Rehearsed lines under his breath.

Breathing exercises.

Hand wipes for sweat.

Extra deodorant just in case God wanted him to meet the Prime minister…

Every step from home to school felt like a pilgrimage to get a glance of his God, and for a boy in love, it truly was…..

His heart was beating fast.
He was sweating.
His legs were jelly.
But he was ready.

Or… he thought he was.

It was lunch break, Naina stood near the corridor, sunlight falling on her neatly tied braid like it had been choreographed. She was talking to her friends, holding her lab record book like she’d stepped out of a TV commercial.

Rahul inhaled deeply.
He whispered to himself,
“Hrithik… Hrithik… you are Hrithik…”

Then he heard Gokul’s voice in his head: “No macha… SRK.”

Confused but determined, Rahul walked forward, holding some random book in his hand, spinning it on his fingertips, tossing it up and down as if he were effortlessly cool,  all while desperately trying to hide his fear.

His mind repeated Gokul’s voice on loop, “Goddess… mysterious… hey…”

Every step felt like the slow-motion part of a music video only he could hear.

And then, BETRAYAL…

His shoelace. Untied. Rahul’s left foot caught it,

He tripped. His book flew along with his-dignity tumbling onto the corridor floor. Time froze.

Naina turned, startled. Their eyes met. She looked concerned, maybe a little amused.

“You okay?” she asked, crouching to help him pick up his things.

Rahul, red-faced and sweating, nodded too quickly. “Yes, yes, just… checking the floor quality. Very… even.”

Naina tried not to laugh. Gokul, from down the hallway, signalled, “SRK, bro! SRK!” which did not help.

As Rahul reached for his last notebook, Naina picked it up first. On the cover, scribbled in his handwriting, were the cursed letters:

FLAMES , RAHUL + NAINA, 

Not once, but twice…ah the audacity….

She looked at it. Then at him. Then back at it…

Rahul’s soul left his body…wondering if “A” in flames meant…”Accident”…

(to be continued.…)

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