Khyati

As Shyamala teacher, our 8th standard class teacher, entered the room with a couple of lists in her hand, we all knew it was the list of shuffled sections. I was praying silently, perhaps even aloud, that Isha and I would end up in the same section.

"What if the new class isn’t like 8B?" I whispered to Isha.

"We'll have to learn to adjust, but optimism is what keeps humanity alive." she replied in her usual coming-of-age novel character style.

"Children, are you ready to enter the 9th standard?" Shyamala teacher announced. "You must behave well and remember, now that you're seniors, you’ll be role models for the juniors. Learn to set a good example."

Her words were exciting, but the list in her hand was rather distracting. The entire class was buzzing with anticipation, desperate for her to announce the new sections.

"Teacher, please announce it quickly," everyone exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Join your hands and stand still. I will announce the list after the prayer," she instructed.

The prayer lasted an eternity that day, it felt like a slow death march; a funeral hymn for the memories I had made that year.

"So, children, are you ready to know which class you'll be in?" Shyamala teacher teased, fully aware that we were dying with anticipation. "Whatever class you end up in, make friends there. Moving on, meeting new people, making new friends– this is change, and it's a part of life."

Her words were true, but at that moment, they were not what I wanted to hear. I was desperate to know the contents of the list. She began announcing the names, starting with the first 20 students assigned to section A. They picked up their bags and started to leave. Yearning glances, the ones deployed soldiers on suicide missions and their wives would exchange. I let out a sigh of relief, neither Isha's name nor mine was on that list.

I glanced at Isha. She seemed serious, almost as if she wasn't bothered or maybe too bothered by the shuffling. Her expression was hard to read as she stared at the teacher with intense focus, her fingers rhythmically tapping the desk.

"So, in section B," the teacher continued, "Guna..."

"Not Isha," I whispered under my breath. The roll numbers were arranged alphabetically, and it was already on G. I realized I probably wasn't in section B either.

"And Isha." Shyamala teacher announced. "Take your bags and go to 9th B."

I looked at Isha, who appeared expressionless, perhaps in shock. Without looking at me, she picked up her bag and headed to 9th B, I felt a hollow sensation grow in my chest. We had been best friends for years, inseparable through all the ups and downs, and now we were being pulled apart. I tried to focus on what Shyamala teacher was saying, but it was difficult to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

"Next, for 9th C," Shyamala teacher continued, her voice unwavering despite the palpable tension in the room. "Khyati..."

I heard my name and felt a mix of relief and disappointment. At least I wasn’t in section A, but being separated from Isha still stung. I gathered my things and glanced over at the door. Isha had already left the room without looking back. I hoped she wasn't upset with me LIKE I DIDN'T PLAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN so I suppose she wasn't, but there was no way to be completely sure until I saw her again.

As I entered my new classroom, I tried to remind myself of Shyamala teacher's words about change and making new friends. The room was buzzing with students settling into their new seats and chattering nervously. I spotted a few familiar faces, which gave me some comfort.

The morning passed in a blur of introductions and icebreakers. I found myself participating more than I expected, laughing at jokes and sharing stories with my new classmates. Still, a part of me felt incomplete without Isha by my side.

In break, I quickly made my way out to the corridor, scanning the crowd for any sign of her. Finally, I spotted her as she was coming out of her class.

"Hey," I said softly.

"Hey," she replied, looking up with a faint smile.

"How's 9th B treating you?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Just... different."

"Yeah, same here." I paused, searching for the right words. "I miss you already."

"Me too" she admitted, her eyes softening. "But hey, it's not like we're on different planets. We can still hang out during breaks and after school." She nudged me with her shoulder as we both laughed.

"Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a bit more hopeful. "We'll make this work, Isha. No matter what."

She smiled, and for a moment, the knot in my chest unravelled. Change was hard, but our friendship was strong enough to withstand it. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew we would face them together, even if we weren't in the same class.