Chapter 7: Under Meera’s Gaze

**Six.**

Because I joined Meera's lab, Kunal and I didn't join any clubs. Just working in the lab was exhausting enough.

My days filled with the smell of acetone and the constant clatter of glassware. The rest of campus life—the fest practice, the chai pe charcha in the canteen—became distant dreams.

Priya helped us apply for assistant positions with their guide—twice a week, two hours each time.

Each session was a test of endurance. By the end, my shirt would be stained and my brain fried, but I couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

After every session, Kunal would sigh. I was even worse off. Before I could even echo him, I'd get a message from Meera telling me to go back to the lab—there was an error in some data.

My phone buzzed with her sharp, no-nonsense texts: "Rohan, check the calibration values. Don’t leave till it’s done."

I got up, and Kunal looked at me with pity.

"Rohan, did you offend Senior Meera?"

"No, I just met her for the first time."

"Then why does she work you so hard every day?"

His sympathy was real, but there was also a touch of amusement. He loved seeing me flustered.

In the lab, I was assigned to follow Meera, while Kunal followed Priya.

After the first day, Kunal mourned for my assistant career.

"I heard from Priya that Senior Meera is beautiful, but she's an academic maniac. Rohan, your tough days are just beginning."

I've really come to feel that lately. Meera does experiments as if she doesn't eat or sleep, forgetting everything else.

Sometimes I’d catch her jotting notes at midnight, a lone light burning in the otherwise dark corridor. Rumour had it, she even skipped Holi to finish her thesis.

I went back to the lab building. Only Meera was there, wearing a white lab coat, safety goggles, her shiny black hair tied back. The whiteboard beside her was filled with dense calculations.

She scribbled formulas on the whiteboard, her bangles clinking softly, lost in concentration as if the rest of us didn’t exist. The scene could have been from a movie—her silhouette lit by the harsh tube-light, lost in her work as if the world outside didn’t exist.

"Senior."

Meera didn't even look up, just pointed at the whiteboard. "The one I just sent you—recalculate it."

Her tone brooked no argument, and I found myself hurrying to obey.

"Oh."

Experimental data calculations are huge, and you have to do them over and over. Once I started, I lost track of time.

The smell of chemicals, the scratch of marker on whiteboard, and the rhythmic click of her pen filled the room.

"Done?"

"Almost," I answered honestly.

Meera glanced at the clock. "Where are you stuck?"

"Here." I pointed to the spot.

She came over and took the marker from my hand. "Watch."

Her no-nonsense teaching style suddenly reminded me of the Stephen's Reject senior.

She moved with the same quiet authority, breaking down the problem step by step, her explanations clear and patient.

Meera put down the marker. "Understand?"

"Yes... yes."

"Okay, it's late. Go back for today. Continue tomorrow."

Her voice softened just a little—almost caring, though she’d never admit it.

Meera turned to leave. "I'll recalculate once more and then head out."

As she was taking off her lab coat, she paused. "Experiments are important, but health comes first. Rest, so you can think more clearly tomorrow. That's it for today."

She hung up her lab coat and added, "Only I have the key. Do you want me to stay here with you?"

"Ah, no, no need!"

Her offer startled me, but I quickly shook my head, not wanting to trouble her. In India, staying late with a senior, alone in a lab, would give people all kinds of ideas.

Only a few people have the lab key. I didn't dare take it, let alone have Meera stay with me.