Strings Attached

~Chapter 1~

"Since our school's sister institutions are only located in some countries of Europe, you can only choose from a select few schools. I will now call the names." Thank the Lord!! "Poulomi Mukherjee." There is a shrill cheering noise from almost the whole class. Poulomi is really a gem. She was the clear favorite of students and teachers alike to get that scholarship for the exchange program, and here she is. She gets up to collect her brochure from the teacher's desk.

"Pranoy Dasgupta," the teacher calls again as soon as the cheering dies down a bit. He gets up too, amid some booing by a few guys from the back of the class. Okay, this one's a bit nerdy. Nobody likes him much, though he's a great favorite with the teachers. The guy is okay-ish, I guess. "Anandi Narayanan." The class leader. She 'catwalks' her way to the teacher's desk. 

There is some hooting from the boys. The girl's way too haughty for her own good. But she's got brains. I'm no less brainy than her though. It means, I do stand a chance of getting selected. This is just the third name. There are still two to go. Maybe, I'll be one of them. And clinging to that hope, I expectantly wait for my name to get called.

"Siddartha Goyal." The cool math guy. The ladies' man. Almost every girl is crazy about him. Also, ex-boyfriend of Anandi. She's still crazy about him, from what I've heard. Needless to say, I too liked the guy at a point of time. 

Until, he actually began to throw meaningful winks at me every other second in class. This time too, he winks at me before getting up and going off to collect his brochure. Disgusting! Thank goodness, Anandi didn't see him or she'd have been at me in a trice with her claw-like nails.

"What's with him and winking at you?" Samira asks me, apparently as disgusted as I am. She's always been touchy about these things. Says she doesn't want to get evil eyes on me. I've had many such episodes in my mere 17 years of being. Some have been really bad, believe me. And that is also one of the reasons why I began to wear veils even in class. I'm glad I have such a caring friend though. "I don't know. Ask him."

And then, there is silence. As if we're in a tomb. "Why has everybody suddenly gone silent?" Samira whispers from beside me. "It's the last name on the list, idiot!" I inform her, exasperated with her absent-mindedness. "Oh," is all she says. 

She isn't really interested in going abroad. She is fine living in her own country and studying in her own school, thank you very much. I begged her to take the scholarship test with me, but she didn't budge an inch from her decision. Talk about deserters!

The teacher has a surprised and repulsed expression on his face, and is gazing at the paper in his hand as if he can't recognize what he is holding. "Well, I surely didn't expect this. Nevertheless, I congratulate you all. Best of luck." He folds up the paper, picking up his bag to leave the class. "But, sir. The fifth student? Who's the fifth student?" some students ask from behind him. "Oh, I didn't tell you?! It's Ms. Hidayah Ali."

The moment I hear those two words escape Sir Matthews's lips, I let out a loud shriek and put my arms around my friend in jubilation. Her eyes have a shine that mirrors my own. There is some clapping from behind me, but that's all. I don't mind though. 

I just don't wanna forget this moment ever, in all my life. I've always imagined myself belonging to the select list of students who get to study outside the country, in some best schools of other continents, especially Europe.

This is a dream come true for me. Making to that list means the world to me. I'm gonna leave this place, make an awesome career abroad. This is gonna be my gateway to the world. Things just couldn't get any better.

I don't care that the teacher, knowingly, forgot to call my name. I don't care that, apart from a few people, nobody else has congratulated me or thumped my back... yet. I don't care that almost all of them have a scowl on their faces. I just... don't care. I have an awesome best friend to share my happiness with, a doting family to celebrate on my every achievement, and of course, my Most Merciful Lord, Allah (SWT) to shower his blessings upon me. Who needs these jealous people anyway?