FIRST DAY

Courtesy: Pixabay

 

Rahim entered the school gate with his mother. The building rose wide and bright, its fresh paint catching the morning sun. Trimmed lawns stretched on both sides of the path, still wet with water from the gardener’s hose. A bell rang somewhere inside—sharp, metallic, unfamiliar.

Boys in grey trousers and blue shirts stood in straight lines near the assembly ground. Shoes scuffed against the pavement. Ties were adjusted, collars straightened. Some boys leaned toward each other, their words slipping out in soft English. Others laughed, their voices quick and confident. The line moved forward, one step at a time.

The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and polish. Wooden benches stood in neat rows, their surfaces scratched with old names and dates. The whiteboard was clean, except for pale shadows of yesterday’s writing that refused to disappear. A school bag lay forgotten under a desk. The front bench remained empty, untouched.

Rahim walked down the aisle. His footsteps blended with the sound of chair legs dragging and bags being pulled closer. He stopped near the middle row. Slowly, he placed his bag on the desk. The bench creaked as he sat.

Around him, conversations continued—introductions, jokes, complaints about homework. Someone tapped a pen again and again. A window rattled as a breeze passed through.

Then the prayer bell rang.

Voices fell silent. Chairs stilled. The room settled into a quiet that felt larger than the space itself.

Rahim remained seated, hands resting on the desk, as the day officially began.

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