Anurag Sir has been teaching at Pratapangar Girls High School for just a week.
In these few days, his soft yet profound voice, the gentle steadiness in his eyes, and a quietly spreading, strange kind of presence have gradually touched some long-standing silence deep inside Sneha.
That day, when Sir told Sneha not to sit at the back anymore and asked her to take a seat at the front bench, she never sat at the back again. Every day since then, she has sat in front.
She arrives early and quietly takes her place in a corner of the first bench.
The shyness in Sneha's eyes and the tightness in her chest have slowly started to melt little by little through Sir's words day by day.
Not only has her seat changed—Sneha herself has changed.
The girl who used to be quiet and always seemed to want to hide within her own shadow out of fear of the surrounding gazes, is now slowly lifting her face to look at Sir.
In her eyes, which were once hidden behind shyness and restraint, there is now a growing hunger to learn, and a rare, unburdened respect.
She listens to every word of Anurag Sir attentively — as if she is not hearing words but feelings.
Sir pays special attention to Sneha in class every day and asks if she has understood.
Sneha feels a special care in the way he treats her.
These days, a strange calmness works within Sneha when she sits in Sir's class.
Some unfamiliar closeness, some indescribable sense of security gradually fills her —
like someone wiping away the fog from her eyes, touching unspoken hurt. Sneha doesn't know why, but she doesn't think Sir is a bad person at all.
He seems like a good man, a very close and caring person.
Someone who will never harm her but protect her instead.
0
The school's annual sports competition is coming up. Banners are hung in the courtyard, the field is marked, and frequent announcements over the microphone remind everyone of the practice sessions—everything indicates the big day is near. All the girls are rehearsing in their jerseys.
Sneha is also standing at a corner of the field. Once, running was the very spirit of her being — she was as light as air. Back in classes seven and eight, she was always the first to finish the race. Teachers would say, "It's like her feet don't touch the ground!"
But the Sneha of those days and the Sneha of today are not the same.
Her body has grown strangely, especially her chest, which has become so heavy that running now causes discomfort and pain.
Her chest seems to swing to the rhythm of running — something she never wants. Her breasts have grown so heavy that running with them is difficult now.
Besides, her body is quite weak. Even weaker than before. Sneha's physical weakness is due to hypoglycemia.
Sneha was a girl — innocent, quiet, who liked to be by herself.
She never laughed loudly or talked much to anyone. Her eyes always held a kind of tiredness, as if she had sat down to rest after great effort — but the reality was different. She had done nothing, yet her body often felt exhausted.
Inside her body lived hypoglycemia — a condition where blood sugar suddenly drops too low. In a healthy person, glucose in the blood stays within a certain range, which is the body's main energy source. But in Sneha's body, it does not stay stable.
The symptoms often started suddenly.
While sitting in class, she would suddenly feel dizzy, her vision would blur. Her hands and feet would turn cold, she would start sweating, and her heart would race. Once, during the school assembly, she suddenly began to tremble and slumped down with her head bowed. The teachers thought she might be mentally weak, but she was actually in physical danger.
Many times her hands would shake, her concentration would break, and it would even become difficult for her to speak.
She herself was afraid of these sensations — a fear that no one else understood, only her body knew.
She ate very little during tiffin, often turning her face away from the food. Her aunt scolded her many times, saying, "Don't stay on an empty stomach, Sneha!" But the girl never could explain what was really happening inside her body.
While her friends ran and played, Sneha would quietly sit on the bench. It was as if her body always needed a little more time, a little more rest. Some people would say, "What a serious girl!" but none of them knew why Sneha was so quiet.
She knew that these sudden episodes of weakness, the recurring dizziness, and the strange fatigue were all the results of the disease called hypoglycemia.
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Sneha's symptoms of hypoglycemia in brief were:
Sudden dizziness or fainting
Hands and feet becoming cold
Sweating, especially on the forehead
Blurred vision
Palpitations or trembling
Loss of concentration
Lack of appetite or sudden excessive hunger
Sudden weakness
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Sneha has gradually learned to adapt to these symptoms in her own way. Now she always carries a small container in her bag—chocolates, raisins, biscuits... Whenever her body signals distress, she quietly puts some into her mouth. No one knows that she fights a daily battle with her body all alone.
Because of this, Sneha tires very quickly when running or doing any sport. Every time she sees her name on the list for the race, her heart trembles.
This year was no different. The girls jokingly wrote her name down for the race. And if they didn't, the sports teacher, Madam Rituporna, would have done it herself.
"You're a tall and broad girl—if you don't sign up for sports, who will? Besides, you used to be the fastest in class once," Rituporna madam said with a laugh.
Sneha stayed silent. Madam didn't know that running was no longer as easy for her as it once was.
Sneha thought—how much changes in life! Her weight is less now, her body lighter, but because of the heaviness of her chest, her body's balance is off when she runs. When she sprints, her body wobbles. On top of that, there was another fear—her sports teacher, D.D. (Deepankar Dashgupta) sir, who was about 45 years old. Before Anurag sir arrived, he was the only male teacher in the school. Now, there are just two male teachers at Pratapangar Girls High School: him and Anurag sir.
Sneha was always afraid that her breasts would bounce in front of D.D. sir, and that she would lower her face in shame!
This embarrassment and discomfort made her even weaker. As soon as the race started, she would curl up and falter.
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Every time, the first to finish any race or sport was Megha — a lively girl with a slender but tall body. As soon as the race began, she seemed to melt into the air. Sneha would watch her in awe. How effortlessly she ran! Megha's chest was almost flat, which is why running didn't cause her any difficulty.
Sneha didn't want to be first. She didn't want a medal. She just wanted a small understanding, a simple acceptance—that she had changed, that this was her fate, and that someone would understand that.
Yet, she remained silent.
On the day of the race, she stood on the field. Her heart pounded. The whistle blew. She ran—but her mind stayed somewhere else, far away.
To be continued.....