The whole class turned pin-drop silent at the sound of the principal's voice. You could hear the flutter of a notebook page turning from the other end of the room. Nila didn't expect this lucky surprise, but now that it had arrived, she wasn't about to waste it. Okay, she thought, the mind game just got more interesting.
She had no intention of blowing this into a huge disciplinary showdown. It wasn't about proving who was right. She had already won in her heart the day she got her Chinese workbook back. This wasn't revenge. It was about surviving with dignity.
Because the truth was—she might have to share this same bay, this same warden, this same tension for the rest of the year. Maybe even next year. So the smart move was not to win the argument, but to win the situation.
She swallowed her grin and forced her face into a perfectly neutral expression, hiding both the quiet delight and the sharp alertness beneath.
She was the first to move. Calm, confident, collected.
"Good evening, ma'am," Nila greeted, stepping toward the principal and vice principal with folded hands. "I have a few doubts regarding hostel policies."
The principal raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"In the evening self-study time," Nila began, "are we allowed to discuss with friends—clarify doubts, plan study schedules, or even do group study—if we're not disturbing others?"
The vice principal smiled slightly. "Of course. That's why it's called self-study. You can choose your method, as long as you don't create noise or trouble others."
"And are we allowed to go clarify doubts with teaching staff if they're available on campus?" Nila asked, still polite.
The principal nodded. "Yes. Especially for subjects like science and maths, we've ensured that at least one teacher is present during evening study hours. You have full freedom to approach them."
"Thank you, ma'am." Nila paused, then tilted her head. "Just to confirm, is there a fixed time limit? Like, if I go to meet a teacher, do I need to return in five or ten minutes, even if my doubt takes longer to explain?"
At some point during this dialogue, the chief warden had silently entered the room. Her expression was unreadable.
The vice principal replied before the warden could speak. "No, there's no fixed time limit. It's not a classroom period. This is your study time—you're free to use it as needed. Unless you're disturbing someone, we don't interfere."
She narrowed her eyes. "Still, I don't understand why you were crying earlier. What happened?"
Nila's tone was gentle. "I'll explain shortly, ma'am. I just have one last doubt." She turned slightly to look at the class behind her. "Is there any rule that prohibits students from keeping a personal diary or journal in the hostel?"
Silence again. Only the fan hummed.
"Just because we stay in the hostel," Nila continued, "do we lose the right to privacy? Can personal items be taken or inspected, even if they aren't related to academics? I've kept a diary since I was ten. Even my parents respected my space. If I say I don't want to show it, is that wrong?"
The principal looked genuinely puzzled. "Of course, you can keep a personal diary. Who told you otherwise?"
All eyes turned to the chief warden, who cleared her throat.
"There was a surprise inspection over the weekend," she explained to the principal and vice principal. "We just checked if students had any love letters or inappropriate material. Nila refused to show her diary, but we resolved the issue. I don't know why she's bringing it up again."
Nila finally faced the class.
"I didn't bring it up again to create a problem," she said, her voice still soft but firm. "When I went to collect my Chinese workbook—which, by the way, isn't part of the school syllabus but something I study in my own time—the warden said, 'This is not over yet.' Since then, I feel constantly targeted. In study time, when I clarified doubts with Harini, I was scolded for chatting. Today, I got permission and clarified with the staff, but I was questioned loudly in front of the whole class."
Several girls in the class nodded quietly. The atmosphere shifted.
She turned to the principal again. "What should I do if I have a doubt and no one else in my class has the same question? Should I still drag someone else with me for proof? Or should I not go at all?"
A long pause followed.
The principal's eyes narrowed slightly. She turned to the warden. "What's going on here?"
The warden folded her arms. "It's not a big deal. She went out for nearly half an hour during study time. I only asked where she went. Isn't that fair? Students can't just roam freely."
Nila shook her head slowly, eyes steady. "Ma'am, today, when I had a doubt in maths, I asked the warden if I could go clarify it with the staff. He had already announced in class that we're allowed to do that. But when she went to check if the teacher was available, she didn't come back to inform me of anything. I was waiting."
Her voice trembled slightly, but she held it steady. "Then, after a while, she said I was alone and asked the whole class—'Does anyone else have doubts, or is it just her?' Not those exact words, but the implication was clear. Like I was making a fuss. Like I was being difficult."
The principal's brow furrowed.
Nila continued, "I had already spoken to Harini earlier. She also had doubts about a few problems, and she said she'll also join me in going to meet the math teacher. Only then did the warden allow me to go out. So what is the rule, ma'am? Tomorrow, if I have a doubt in chemistry, and no one else wants to come with me, am I still allowed to go? Or should I force someone to follow me just so it doesn't look suspicious?"
She looked directly at the warden now. "I spent 20 minutes—maybe 25—clarifying the problem. The staff explained it to me patiently. When I came back, the warden was standing in front of the class, announcing that I was 'missing' for so long and couldn't have spent that much time just for doubts. I don't understand where else I could've gone. This is a school campus. Every classroom has staff, every corridor is monitored. Why should I prove where I went?"
The vice principal opened her mouth to say something, but Nila spoke first. Her voice was lower now—more raw.
"I cried, ma'am… because it wasn't just about doubt clarification. It was how I was being looked at. How I was made to feel like I did something wrong. Like I had to defend my character… just because I wanted to study better."
The principal turned to the warden again, voice sharper this time. "You said she was 'missing'? You called her out in front of the class?"
"I only meant—" the warden began.
"No," the vice principal cut in. "Let her speak."
But her voice, though gentler than the principal's, turned toward Nila. "I'm sorry, Nila, if you felt like your values were questioned. That should never happen. But you must understand—sometimes students use these rules to escape study hours. We have to be careful."
Nila nodded slowly. "I understand, ma'am. But I'm not one of them. And it's not fair that I should be treated like I am. Whatever I asked, none of it was to argue or rebel. I only asked so that I don't keep getting into trouble for the same things."
She swallowed, then added, "When the hostel gave us the rules list, it mentioned restricted food, electronics, and touch phones. But there was no mention of personal diaries. When the diary incident happened, I was scared, but the chief warden later clarified that I'm allowed to keep it. Still, I feel like I'm under a spotlight, because none of my friends use one. I just didn't want that to become one more reason I get isolated."
For a moment, the room was quiet. Even the girls in the class who once giggled behind their hands seemed still.
"It's only been ten days," Nila added, barely above a whisper. "And I already feel like I'm being watched for being different."
The principal exhaled slowly. Her tone was measured, but firm. "We will review the way the rules are being communicated. That's our responsibility. Thank you, Nila, for bringing this up with clarity and respect."
The vice principal looked down, then back at Nila. "You're right. Sometimes students do need clarity, not just discipline. But you must also know—it takes time for everyone to adjust. Including staff. Including wardens."
Nila nodded, understanding the hidden message: Don't push too far. Don't make us feel like we've lost control.
But her face remained calm. She had said what she had to.
then all the staff left the class. as if the problem was concluded on its own. never will the teachers will apologise to the students even when they are in wrong.
The bell rang, sharp and sudden. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and the classroom burst into movement. But Nila stayed still, her notebooks still open, pen uncapped. The others flowed out in pairs and small clusters, voices low but buzzing. No one dared look her in the eye.
Harini hadn't packed either.
She stood up slowly, stretching her arms with a quiet sigh. "I'll believe now," she said, her voice laced with dry amusement, "that you are the mind games champion."
Nila finally smiled, the tension in her chest loosening just enough to breathe. "I wasn't playing games," she replied softly, closing her notebook. "I was just… tired of pretending to not notice."
They didn't say anything more.
Side by side, they walked out of the classroom, the corridor echoing with the last few footsteps of students already disappearing into the hostel wing. The sky outside had turned a gentle orange, softening everything it touched.
Nila felt oddly light—not triumphant, not angry. Just… clear.
She had spoken her truth. The rest could wait.
Harini nudged her gently as they stepped into the fading sunlight. "Remind me to never pick a fight with you."
Nila chuckled. "Deal."