‘You can go and sit there,’ said our English teacher. ‘Just the second-last bench.’

I didn’t understand English very well at that time. But she pointed her finger towards the only bench that had one empty seat. I walked silently with a heavy bag on my shoulder. It was my first day at the new school and my mom, in her worry, had loaded my bag with all sorts of books and notebooks for the session without realizing that there were only six periods in a day.

Each step I took felt like the longest step of my life until that point. I was only ten and had not had much experience of walking while being watched by the entire class. Except, I had walked across our temple many times, with men and women on either side, to bow my head before the idol, and every time I felt fully aware of my nerves, bones and muscles. I guess, I do not like it when I am being watched by a crowd.

As I approached the bench, a girl sitting there looked at me with displeasure. I didn’t know who she was then. How could I know? She gave me an unwelcoming look, as if I had been forced upon her. I saw her exchange a glance with her friend that made me feel uncomfortable. I suppose maybe it was the fact that I had food spilled on my clothes, maybe it was that my shirt or trousers did not fit well or my tie was not tied properly. For the first time in my life, I understood what rejection might feel like.

I had known small failures before. I could not make it to the sports team last year. But that was different. Sports never came naturally to me like it did to other boys. Boys were loud and undisciplined and always asking for my Math homework. I was good at Math, probably the best among all. My teacher said so and I believed him. I was also good at observing things, mostly beautiful things – like my mom’s eyes or my dad’s giggle when mom got angry or, the neighbor’s fat dog, whom I had named Lazy, who couldn’t care less about his owners or the world.

My dad could have dropped me at school a few hours earlier to save me from this monstrous walk. But I really didn’t blame him. I understood even then when he explained that he wanted me to attend a school where the principal didn’t hog samosas and chutney during parent-teacher meetings.

I looked at Sarah properly only later in the day. At that time, as I walked towards her, I didn’t even know her name. I didn’t even recognize my own heartbeat. Did I mention it was my first day at school? Sarah rearranged her books that were spread across the table to make room for me. I sat down beside her quietly.  Sarah put her bag between us. I understood what it meant, though she didn’t say anything. I kept my bag on the floor just next to me so as not to cause her any discomfort and where it was fully visible to my eyes.

Sarah took out a new notebook for every subject, and her books were neatly covered in thick brown paper. Most of the class had used the same brown paper and the only way you could tell one from the other was by name on the first page. Sarah’s book had neat cursive handwriting. Mine was more like scribbles drawn by my mom in a hurry. She had lilies printed on her pencil pouch. It made me realize that everything about her was perfect except for the fact that she did not have a perfect person to sit with.

The recess bell rang loudly for a good thirty seconds. It sounded like an electric buzzer. In my previous school, we had a round metal bell that was banged with a wooden stick. Sometimes the students on toilet break would ring the bell to end the school earlier.

As soon as the buzzer rang, everyone in the class started talking over the teacher. The bell was a sign of dismissal of the teacher. Despite the disorder, I paid close attention to every word the geography teacher said while erasing the text on the blackboard. She was the only one apart from the English teacher who noticed that I was new in the class and asked if I was able to follow. I liked her, although I never really came to like the subject she taught.

The class disappeared for lunch within minutes, and the classroom went silent once again. The school played music on the loudspeaker during the break, which I found surprising. I stayed back in the classroom. My mom had packed my favorite meal for lunch, but I didn’t open the lunch box. I just sat at my desk. I was alright, I didn’t cry, although I wanted to. I prayed no one came back as I didn’t want anyone to notice that I was alone during the break. I could hear children laughing outside in groups. Someone shouted a name from far away and another voice answered. I opened a blank notebook to distract myself and started scribbling. The music stopped, and the electric buzzer finally rang. One by one, everyone returned to their seats.

I noticed Sarah walking towards our desk. Although I did not make any eye contact with her, she looked at the open notebook on the desk and somehow realized that I hadn’t stepped out during the break. She sat beside me and looked directly into my eyes. I, with all the emptiness inside my chest, looked back at her. She didn’t smile or say anything. She had no expression — not even pity. I really liked that about her. She asked me my name. I didn’t have an unusual name. I hoped, in that moment, that I had an unusual name that would impress her. I asked her name in return, and she said softly, in a confident voice that I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday, “Sarah.” The bell rang before I could say anything.

The last period was Math. Although most of the class would have disagreed, I didn’t think our Math teacher was bad. Sure, he was strict and gave homework; maybe that’s why he was not popular. He picked out names randomly and made us solve problems on the board in front of the class. The class was forced to pay attention. Not everyone liked to pay attention in class, and not everyone liked Math. And Sarah didn’t like Math either. She liked English. She was probably the best English student in class. She was good at other subjects too, but not Math.

The Math teacher asked us to open our books to section II of chapter 3. He put a problem on the board. I was lucky that my name was not on the attendance sheet that he carried. The teacher walked across the floor, stopped next to me and asked what my name was. I did not like attention, and I did not like that my name was not unusual. What would Sarah’s friends make of it?

‘Can you solve the problem on the board?’ commanded the Math teacher. He was just plain and direct. I stood up at my place. I had nowhere to hide. He asked me again — ‘Can you solve the problem on the board?’ I was looking for an escape and silence was my armor. I prayed that he would move on to another student, but he didn’t.

‘It’s his first day at school, Sir. He wouldn’t know how to solve the problem.’ Sarah spoke on my behalf. Kindness has a peculiar beauty if you look at it closely, just like Math. And in that moment, Sarah felt kind to me.

‘Come up to the board, no excuses,’ said the Math teacher. I understood why no one liked him. But he was fair in his own way and I understood that too. He handed me the book. I was still at my desk, reading the problem, and saw Sarah’s gaze on me. I loved Math. I really did. I was swept in, but I had never solved anything in front of the entire class before.

The teacher handed me a long white chalk to write with. I held it between my fingers just like a pencil, but pencils were easy to hold; they were thin, colorful and wooden and in your control. I had held them thousands of times. The chalk broke and a part of it fell on the floor as soon as I tried to write on the blackboard. The fear returned and covered me from head to toe. I imagined hearing giggling in the class. I turned around to pick up the broken piece.

I glanced across the classroom, and it was like being watched with a thousand eyes. I didn’t like people looking at me, observing me. My eyes found Sarah. She sat there expressionless and I liked this about her. I felt normal again.

I turned around and started solving the problem on the board. Every worry seemed to move a little away from me. Numbers had always done that for me. They did not care if my shirt was badly tucked in or if I was alone during recess. Step by step, I wrote the equations and felt a pure moment of bliss that only I could feel in the world. It was Math after all. I loved Math and Math loved me back. I had arrived at the correct solution.

I did not look at anyone immediately. I kept my eyes on my hands, which still had chalk dust on them. A little white powder had settled on my fingers and under my nails. The class had already moved on, and I was still inside that small bubble of happiness.

I walked towards my desk and noticed Sarah remove the bag that was placed between us.