Chapter 3: Accused Again

The class teacher was about to leave when she suddenly kicked something with her foot.

Looking down, she saw three wallets.

One pink, one brown, and one with a cartoon sticker—obviously not from the same person.

She picked up the wallets, her face darkening, and demanded, “Did you steal these? Your benchmate said you stole his things. Looks like you’re a habitual thief.”

Just like that, she convicted me without a second thought.

She sniffed, adjusting her saree pallu, and gave me that look only strict teachers in government schools can give.

I clenched my fists, barely restraining the urge to hit her—saving it for the big show later—and explained, “These all fell out of Ritika’s bag. She’s always robbing juniors. Don’t you know?”

“Nonsense!”

She didn’t listen at all. “Ritika may not be a model student, but she’d never do something like this.”

She jabbed her finger in my face, spitting as she spoke: “You’re a boy, but you can’t even own up to what you’ve done?”

I was so angry I laughed. “Sure, sure, I stole them all. Later, let the owners come and identify me.”

“Accha hai, maan liya. Ab sabke saamne sach aayega.”

She got the answer she wanted, stashed the wallets, and said coldly, “I’ll have the owners identify you in person. Let the whole school see what a thief looks like.”

With that, she strode off.

I looked completely unfazed—actually, I wished she’d hurry up and get me on stage.

The place I’d feared most in my last life was now the stage I craved.

Every word that stabbed at my lungs, every look of contempt—I remembered them all.

Today, I’ll pay them back a hundredfold.

This time, when I go up, let them stare, let them talk. Let the chaiwalla outside the gate hear the news and the principal’s secretary gossip about it with the bus driver. They will all remember today: the day Amit refused to be a doormat.

A few minutes later—

The bell rang.

I stood alone in the corridor, clearly hearing the class teacher’s voice from inside.

Each period was forty-five minutes.

She spent at least twenty of those minutes telling everyone what had just happened.

If she’d just told the truth, fine—but she had to add her own spin.

When she got to the part about me stealing wallets, I could practically see my benchmate’s smug face.

His name was Kunal.

We weren’t just benchmates, we were also hostel roommates.

When we first started school, he was ostracised by everyone, and I was the only one who treated him as a friend.

A few months later, the other roommates discovered that Kunal was actually a kleptomaniac.

I have no idea what went through his head.

He even dared to wear the clothes he stole, claiming his mother bought them.

When he was exposed, he knelt on the ground, crying and apologising, swearing never to do it again.

But just a week later, he did it again.

This time, the other roommates didn’t hold back—they shut the door and beat him up.

Strangely, he didn’t resent them, but hated me, saying I hadn’t helped him.

Just yesterday—

He accused me of stealing his things in front of the whole class.

Our seats were by the window.

Kunal sat right by the window.

I subconsciously walked over and locked eyes with him.

Sure enough, not a hint of guilt.

He smiled at me and, in a voice only the two of us could hear, said, “You act so high and mighty. I’ll just say you stole something—let’s see what you can do about it.”

Hearing that, it felt like I’d swallowed a neem leaf.

I must have been blind back then.

I remembered sharing Maggi with him in the hostel corridor, thinking we were brothers. What a joke. The taste of betrayal is worse than biting into a raw karela in your tiffin—bitter, lingering, impossible to wash down with even a full bottle of Rasna. In the hostel, loyalty was a big thing, and I had thrown him a rope when no one else would. Today, I could only wonder at my own stupidity.

“Amit.”

The class teacher suddenly called out, scolding, “What are you sneaking around by the window for? Trying to threaten your classmate into dropping the matter?”

She probably thought she’d caught me red-handed, and continued, “Let me tell you, even if your benchmate doesn’t pursue it, as your teacher I have the duty and responsibility to get to the bottom of this.”

I was completely speechless.

In this world, there are always people just itching to do you harm.

I hadn’t said a word, and yet a baseless accusation was already pinned on me.

I gritted my teeth, silently remembering all of this.

If Yama wants you gone at midnight, even if you try to bribe the guard at ten, you’ll still have to go.

Only ten minutes left until the period ended.

My whole body trembled uncontrollably—I was more excited than I’d ever been.

Kunal’s seat had a clear view of me.

He probably thought I was scared out of my mind, and couldn’t hide the anticipation on his face.

“You’re finished.”

He made a throat-slitting gesture at me.

A junior boy, clutching his water bottle, peeked out of his class and quickly looked away when I met his gaze.

The next second—

Tring-tring-tring~

Tring-tring-tring~

The bell for the end of the period rang.

That cheerful melody played—it sounded like the most beautiful music in the world, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes, losing myself in it.

When the class teacher walked out of the classroom, she caught a glimpse of a tear at the corner of my eye.

“Already crying?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to cry later.”

The class teacher looked at me with mocking disdain.

I wiped away the tear, then grinned, flashing a radiant smile: “You misunderstand—these are tears of joy. I’ve waited over ten years for this moment. Shouldn’t I be so excited I could cry?”

With that, I turned to Kunal, a fierce glint in my eye: “Don’t let me down.”

Kunal was clearly startled by my look and instinctively ducked behind the other classmates.

In that moment, with the corridor full of sunlight and the muffled sounds of the school band warming up for assembly, I realised—maybe this was the first day of my real life. Let them all watch. The drama had just begun.

The school band’s dholak and harmonium warmed up in the background, the sound leaking through the corridor windows. As the drums of assembly echoed, I straightened my collar and smiled. Today, the whole school would finally hear my story.