Morning light spilled through the cracked windows of the small apartment, painting faded golden patches on the worn-out floor tiles. The aroma of ginger tea floated through the living room as Saanvi adjusted the dupatta of her pale green cotton kurti, tying her long, dark hair into a loose braid.

The kitchen echoed with the familiar clatter of her mother’s bangles as she stirred the poha on the stove.

“Saanvi, nashta ready hai. Jaldi aa ja, tera time ho raha hai,” her mother called out.

Saanvi emerged from her small room, her spectacles perched on her nose, a sling bag loosely hanging off her shoulder. Her look was simple the kind of simplicity that felt almost defiant. No lipstick, no kajal, no pretense. Just her, raw and undistracted by the world’s noise.

In the corner of the living room, their old television buzzed loudly. The screen flashed images of a massive political rally, flags waving, slogans roaring.

“MP ke sabse jawan aur taqatwar neta Devraj Rathore ne aaj phir apne pragatisheel vicharon se sabko chakit kar diya...”

Saanvi paused for a moment, recognizing the name. The screen showed him Devraj Rathore giving a speech from a massive stage. Wearing a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses tucked in his pocket, his voice commanding, face sharp. Even through the screen, he had a presence. Se

“Huh,” she scoffed, snatching a bite of poha from the plate on the table.

“Ek aur drama king. Sab jaante hai in netaon ka asli chehra. Saaf bolu toh ye politics sabse zyada corrupted cheez hai. Sab apna matlab nikalte hai. Public sirf vote dene ke liye hoti hai, baaki kuch nahi.”

Her younger brother chuckled from the side, slipping on his headphones. “Didi, tu toh aise bolti hai jaise tere speech se system change ho jayega.”

She rolled her eyes. “System nahi badlega, par main toh khud ko badal ke nahi bechne wali. Sab kuch samajh ke bhi chup rehna sabse bada dard deta hai. Aur waise bhi, Devraj Rathore jese logo ka toh ego rocket pe hota hai.”

Her mother sighed but didn’t say anything. She had long accepted her daughter’s strong opinions.

Saanvi looked back at the TV one last time. Devraj was shaking hands with an older man, smiling slightly.

“Smile toh aisi jaise sabke liye kar raha ho... asli mein toh andar se sab same hote hai,” she muttered, turning the TV off with a sharp click.

---

The local auto horn outside broke the moment. Saanvi grabbed her bag, folded her dupatta neatly, and called out, “Maa, late ho raha hai. Chali main.”

Her mother handed her a steel tiffin box, eyes soft. “Khud ka dhyan rakhna. Aur bacchon se zyada mat ladna.”

“Ladti nahi hoon Maa, samjhati hoon,” she said with a half-smile and walked out.

---

The streets of the town buzzed with the usual chaos school vans honking, street vendors setting up carts, and temple bells ringing in the distance. The world moved fast, but Saanvi walked at her own pace, calm yet determined.

She reached the school just as the bell rang.

“Good morning, Ma’am!” a chorus of children’s voices greeted her as she stepped into the classroom.

She smiled genuinely a smile she rarely gave to adults, but always saved for her students.

“Good morning, class! Aaj hum ek nayi kahani padhne wale hai... ek ladki ke baare mein, jo apni duniya khud banati hai,” she said, putting her bag down.

“Jaise aap?” a little girl from the front row asked with wide eyes.

Saanvi chuckled, adjusting her glasses. “Shayad. Par pehle padh lete hai, phir decide karna.”

The classroom filled with laughter. She moved between rows, checking notebooks, correcting spellings, tying a little boy’s shoelaces when he didn’t know how. She wasn’t just a teacher she was a safe place.

---

Later, during recess, she stood by the open window, sipping tea from the school’s steel cup, when she overheard two parents outside the gate.

“Rathore sir ki rally toh zabardast thi,” one man said.

“Haan, Devraj Rathore ka charisma hi alag hai... youth mein craze hai unka,” the other replied.

Her jaw clenched slightly. Even here even in her school his name was echoing.

She looked out the window at the cloudy sky, feeling a strange unease. The same name she had mocked in her living room this morning was following her like a shadow.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away.

"Main kisi neta ke baare mein nahi sochti. Meri duniya yeh

chhoti si class hai... aur yeh bacche.”

---

To Be Continued...