Ominivars : Romence of the Light.

श्री:

As Prince approached the school, his thoughts were a chaotic storm, swirling with the memory of his encounter with Nidhi. The sting of her slap still echoed on his cheek, a sharp reminder of how badly things had spiraled out of control. Her eyes, flashing with a mix of shock and anger, were seared into his mind. He could still feel the weight of her handprint, not just on his skin but on his pride, as if it had branded him with a sense of humiliation he couldn't shake.

What just happened? The question kept looping in his mind as he hurried toward the school, his footsteps quickening with every thought. But before he could delve deeper into his confusion, his reflection was abruptly shattered by the sharp, ringing sound of the school bell.

Sound: "Ton. Ton. Ton." The bell’s chime echoed through the air, signaling the start of the school day, pulling Prince back to reality with a jolt.

The moment the bell sounded, Prince’s eyes snapped upward, and he saw the school’s main gate looming ahead. A boy stood at the entrance, poised to close it. Panic surged through Prince’s veins, and without thinking, he broke into a desperate sprint, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he shouted:

Prince (yelling, out of breath): “Hey, wait! Hold the gate, I’m almost there!”

But the boy at the gate, Harish Kumar, either didn’t hear him or simply chose to ignore his frantic cries. With a casual shrug, as if he couldn’t care less about Prince’s predicament, Harish pushed the gate shut with a resounding clang just as Prince reached it.

Prince (furious, panting heavily): "B******d. You wait for me outside, I’ll deal with you then."

Anger surged through Prince like a tidal wave, his face flushing with the intensity of his emotions. He glared at Harish through the iron bars of the gate, his chest heaving with the effort of his run and the fury bubbling inside him. It wasn’t just the physical effort that had him out of breath; it was the sheer rage that burned within him, a fierce desire for revenge that made his blood boil.

Prince (thinking, seething with rage): "That f*****r... I’ll make him pay later..."

His eyes locked onto Harish’s, the tension between them thickening with each passing second. Harish, noticing Prince’s intense stare, smirked defiantly, the smugness in his expression only fueling Prince’s anger. The silent exchange between them crackled with animosity, a wordless promise of retribution that hung in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Just when it seemed like the tension might boil over, a sharp, authoritative voice sliced through the air, cutting through the standoff like a knife.

???: “What’s going on here, Harish Kumar?” The voice was stern, carrying the weight of authority that immediately commanded attention.

Harish flinched slightly at the sound, his earlier bravado faltering as he turned to face the source. Standing there was Gupta Sir, the school’s strict disciplinarian, known for his no-nonsense approach and his intolerance for mischief. His presence alone was enough to make even the boldest students think twice.

Harish quickly adopted a look of false innocence, his earlier smugness disappearing in an instant, replaced by a pitiful expression that he hoped would win over the teacher.

Harish Kumar (innocently, with a practiced tone): “Gupta Sir, Prince is threatening me! He said he’ll beat me up just because he came late, and I didn’t let him in.”

Harish’s voice dripped with fake sincerity, his eyes wide with feigned fear as he played the victim. Prince, who had been silently fuming, snapped his head toward Gupta Sir as soon as he heard his name, his heart sinking as he realized what was happening.

Gupta Sir, already glaring at Prince with narrowed eyes, seemed to bristle at the mere mention of his name. The teacher’s face, which had been stern before, now turned a shade redder with growing irritation, his anger palpable.

Gupta Sir (furiously, his voice booming): “Prince!”

The sound of his name, spoken with such fury, made Prince wince slightly, though he quickly tried to hide it. But instead of cowering, he held his ground, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. Gupta Sir’s approach was swift and menacing, each step amplifying the tension until it felt like the air itself was charged with electricity.

Gupta Sir (angry, accusatory): “Why is it always you, Prince? Why are you always late? Can’t you be on time for once?!”

The words were like bullets, each one hitting its mark with precision. Prince felt them keenly, each accusation cutting into him, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact, his face a mask of defiance even as his insides churned with a mix of shame and resentment. Harish, standing off to the side, could barely contain his delight. His smirk grew as he watched Prince getting verbally skewered, his eyes dancing with malicious glee.

Gupta Sir (continuing, exasperated): “You’re late every day, Prince! And it’s not like you’re good in your studies either. What do you plan to do with your life if you can’t even be serious about school?”

The lecture was one Prince knew all too well, a speech he had heard so many times that he could recite it in his sleep. But today, something inside him snapped. The weight of the day, the frustration, the anger—all of it coalesced into a single moment of rebellion. Before he could stop himself, he shot back, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips:

Prince (smirking, defiantly): “Gupta Sir, it’s just my English that’s weak. I’ll pass in the other subjects. And as for my future... well, I’ll just become a papa.”

The cheeky remark hung in the air like a live wire, the atmosphere shifting immediately. Gupta Sir’s face, already red with anger, turned an even deeper shade, his fury boiling over. His eyes widened with disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words strong enough to convey the magnitude of his rage.

Gupta Sir (exploding with rage): “PRINCE!!!”

His voice thundered across the schoolyard, echoing off the walls and sending a shiver of fear through Prince, despite his bravado. The teacher’s glare was so intense, it felt like it could burn a hole through him, and for the first time, Prince felt a real sense of dread creep into his gut.

Harish Kumar, who had been standing nearby with a smug look on his face, suddenly saw Gupta Sir’s temper flare as Prince’s cheeky words hit a nerve. The change in the teacher’s demeanor was immediate and intense, like a calm sky suddenly darkening before a storm.

Gupta Sir (shouting in anger): “Prince, go to the prayer ground and become a murga in front of everyone!”

The command hit Prince like a ton of bricks. For a moment, he was rooted to the spot, his mind reeling as the weight of the punishment began to sink in. The reality of what he was about to face—a public humiliation in front of the entire school—made his heart pound in his chest. His usual quick wit and sharp tongue seemed to desert him, leaving behind only a rising tide of desperation.

Slowly, the initial shock gave way to panic, and before he knew it, Prince found himself pleading with Gupta Sir, his voice trembling with fear and anxiety.

Prince (pleading, with a pitiful expression): “Sir... Sir... I’ll clean the playground... or if that’s not enough, I’ll even clean the toilets... but please, don’t make me do this in front of everyone during the prayer.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth, each one laced with desperation. Gone was the confident, cheeky boy who had just moments before dared to challenge his teacher. In his place stood someone much more vulnerable, a boy who was now painfully aware of the consequences of his actions. His eyes, usually full of mischief, were wide with fear as he searched Gupta Sir’s face for any sign of mercy. But Harish Kumar, standing off to the side, was grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of Prince’s downfall.

Prince (continuing, almost begging): “Sir... Sir... I promise I’ll come to school half an hour early from tomorrow, I’ll be the first one here every day. Please, Sir, don’t do this.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, his pride crumbling as he tried to appeal to Gupta Sir’s better nature. But the stern teacher, whose fiery glare had softened not one bit, looked down at Prince with a mixture of irritation and disappointment. It was clear that Prince’s desperate pleas were falling on deaf ears.

Gupta Sir (with a resigned sigh): “Prince, that’s the 17th promise you’ve made this month. Enough is enough. Now go.”

His voice was weary, tinged with frustration, as if he had heard these same promises too many times before. He shook his head, his patience worn thin, and without another word, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, signaling that the conversation was over.

Prince stood there, biting his lower lip in frustration, feeling a deep sense of regret washing over him. He watched helplessly as Gupta Sir walked away, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and self-reproach. How had he let things spiral out of control so quickly? The humiliation that awaited him felt unbearable, but as the minutes ticked by, a spark of defiance flared up inside him—a last-ditch effort to escape the punishment.

Prince (yelling, with a mischievous grin): “S... Sir... Sir!”

His voice rang out across the school grounds, but Gupta Sir didn’t even pause, continuing his march with determined steps. Seeing that his cry had gone unanswered, Prince’s grin turned wicked as he decided to take a dangerous gamble, one that could either save him or bury him deeper in trouble.

Prince (smirking, shouting): “Gupta Sir, if you don’t stop, I’ll tell everyone about how you keep sneaking glances at Sweety Ma’am and how you want to get cozy with her!”

The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode. For a heartbeat, there was a dead silence, the kind that comes before a storm. Then, in a flash, Gupta Sir’s rage erupted with the force of a hurricane. His face turned a deep, livid red, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that made even the bravest students quake in their shoes. He spun around, his steps quick and heavy with fury as he marched back toward Prince.

Prince, still holding onto his mischievous grin, felt a twinge of uncertainty flicker in his chest. Had he gone too far this time? But before he could second-guess himself, Gupta Sir was upon him, his voice low and seething with barely controlled rage.

Gupta Sir (with barely controlled fury): “Go ahead, tell whoever you want, but first, go and complete your punishment. And make sure you cluck like a rooster every two minutes! This conversation is over!”

He jabbed a finger in Prince’s direction, his face a mask of barely restrained rage, before turning on his heel once more and storming off, his footsteps echoing ominously across the schoolyard.

Harish Kumar, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely concealed amusement, finally opened the gate and let Prince inside. The gate creaked on its hinges, a sound that seemed to mock Prince as he passed through, shooting Harish a glare so venomous it could have curdled milk. But Harish’s only response was a smug grin, one that made Prince’s anger flare up even more. He silently vowed to make Harish pay for this later, but as he walked further into the school grounds, the weight of what was about to happen began to press down on him.

Prince (thinking, cursing himself): "F***k, me and my big mouth... I should’ve just kept it shut."

He trudged forward, his steps heavy with regret and frustration, each one feeling like it was dragging him deeper into a pit of his own making. The sun, which had seemed so bright and welcoming earlier, now felt unbearably hot, its rays beating down on him like a spotlight highlighting his every mistake. The school grounds, usually familiar and comforting, now felt oppressive, the weight of the day pressing down on him with every step he took.

Just as he was lost in his thoughts, kicking himself for his own foolishness, he heard Gupta Sir’s voice cut through the air like a whip, pulling him back to the harsh reality of his situation.

Gupta Sir (sharply, with impatience): “Prince, hurry up! At this pace, you’ll be there by tomorrow.”

The words stung like a slap, and Prince quickly picked up his pace, moving toward the prayer ground with a sense of dread gnawing at his insides. As he approached, he could see the lines of students already gathered, standing in neat rows, their heads bowed in silent prayer. The sight made his stomach twist with anxiety. The thought of everyone watching him, of all those eyes fixed on him in such a humiliating position, made his skin crawl.

Prince (thinking, trying to steel himself): "What’s done is done. There’s no way out now. I just have to get through this."

He tried to bolster himself with a few encouraging words, but the dread continued to gnaw at him, refusing to let go. The closer he got to the prayer ground, the more his nerves began to fray, his earlier bravado completely evaporated. What had started as a desperate attempt to avoid punishment had now turned into a nightmare of his own making, and he knew he was in for a rough time.

Prince (muttering to himself, with a sigh): “This day just keeps getting worse and worse...”

The school grounds, usually a place of routine and familiarity, now felt suffocating. The weight of the day pressed down on him, each step toward the prayer area feeling like a march toward his own humiliation. His cheek still throbbed from Nidhi’s slap, his pride was bruised from Gupta Sir’s scolding, and now he had to endure the public disgrace of the murga position. But despite all this, there was a small spark of defiance still

flickering within him, a stubborn refusal to be completely broken by the day’s events.

To be continued.....