So let’s begin!
Sehgal House — Early Morning
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Sehgal house, but Team Unstoppable was already awake. The air buzzed with nervous energy — the kind that makes your stomach twist and your heartbeat quicken.
It was the morning — the day of their competitions.
Each corner of the house had its own rhythm of chaos.
---
In the Living Room
The floor was scattered with art brushes, colored pencils, sketchpads, and rolls of tape.
Vanshu sat cross-legged, surrounded by her arsenal of art supplies, her hair tied messily in a bun, lips pursed in concentration as she checked everything for what felt like the tenth time.
Bela stood nearby, coffee mug in one hand and that unmistakable air of quiet authority in the other.
Bela (in her calm but commanding tone):
“Vanshu… pencils sab shaped hain na? Brushes, palettes, markers — sab check kar lo ek baar aur.”
Vanshu (nodding quickliy, still rummaging through her bag):
“Ma’am, sab rakh liya hai… colors, sheets, tapes, sab kuch. Bas creativity kaam kar jaaye us time pe…”
She looked up, worry flickering across her face.
“Main blank out na ho jaaun kahi…”
Bela placed her mug down, walked to her, and crouched beside her.
Bela (firmly but softly):
“Suno Vanshu… kuch nahi hoga. Samjhi tum”
Vanshu looked at her, unsure.
Bela (placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder):
“Tumhe sirf dil se karna hai. Jab tum dil se sochti ho na… tumhare haath khud-ba-khud kaam karne lagte hain. Bas apne mann ko us kagaz pe utaarna hai. Jo tum mehsoos karti ho, wahi tumhara best art hota hai.”
Vanshu finally exhaled, a tiny smile breaking through her tension.
“Thik hai ma’am… try karungi.”
Bela (smiling faintly):
“Try nahi… karogi.
Meanwhile, Akshu was sitting on the couch, her badminton bag open beside her, racquets neatly arranged, yet her hands fidgeted with the shuttle tube.
Mahir stood in front of her — the calm opposite of her restless energy — packing her kit like a seasoned coach.
Mahir (handing her a bottle):
“Akshu, don’t worry. Itni mehnat ki hai tumne… ab sirf shaant rehna. Panic karogi toh sab gadbad ho jayega.”
He handed her an energy drink, a couple of chocolates, and a small container of apple slices.
Mahir (gently, with a smile):
“Yeh lo… energy drink, chocolates, apples — aur yeh snacks. Competition ke time pe energy low nahi honi chahiye bilkul bhi. Har thodi der mein kuch kha lena, samjhi?”
Akshu nodded but didn’t look up, her mind elsewhere. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the string of her racquet.
Just then, Bela’s sharp eyes immediately landing on Akshu’s undone shoelaces.
Bela (with mock irritation):
“Akshu! Shoe ke lace baandhe kyu nahi? Pehle hi girne ka irada h kya match ke!”
Before Akshu could react, Bela bent down, kneeling on one knee, and began tying her laces tightly.
Akshu (embarrassed, whispering):
“Ma’am, main khud kar leti…”
Bela (cutting her off, still focused):
“Chup. Itni badi ho gayi ho, phir bhi sahi se nahi aata. Agar beech mein khul gaye toh balance chala jaayega — aur agar gir gayi toh khud ke pair ke saath mera bhi dimaag bhi kharab kar dogi.”
Akshu let out a small laugh, though her eyes betrayed her worry.
When Bela finished, she looked up — not as a teacher this time, but as a mentor who refused to let her student doubt herself.
Akshu (softly):
“Ma’am… sab thik hoga na agar main haar gayi toh?”
For a moment, silence.
Bela’s expression softened, but her tone stayed firm — her trademark calm intensity.
Bela:
“Sab thik hoga. Kitni baar bola hai maine — yeh sab negative sochna band karo. Tumhara focus sirf game pe hona chahiye. Jaise Arjun ka lakshya sirf machhli ki aankh thi, waise hi tumhara lakshya sirf shuttle pe hona chahiye.”
She picked up the racquet, spinning it lightly in her hand before returning it to Akshu.
Bela (continuing):
“Body flexible rakho, movements sharp rakho. Game feel karo, pressure nahi. Baaki sab apne aap ho jaayega.”
Akshu nodded, her eyes glistening with determination now instead of fear.
Akshu (smiling faintly):
“Ji ma’am.”
Mahir (grinning, patting her shoulder):
“Bas wahi spirit chahiye. Team Unstoppable name ka matlab bhi toh kuch hota hai na.”
Meanwhile, Khushi sat on the dining table, surrounded by open notebooks, scribbled notes, and printed debate topics. Her pen tapped nervously against the paper — a soft, rhythmic sound that betrayed her tension.
Her hair was loosely tied, glasses slipping slightly down her nose, and the faint soreness in her throat said it all.
She glanced at the clock again.
Only few hours left.
Her throat felt dry. Why does it suddenly feel like I’ve forgotten everything I prepared?
Just then, Bela walked in from the kitchen holding a tray with a mug of steaming kaadha — its strong herbal aroma instantly filling the room. The sound of her footsteps was enough for Khushi to sit up straight.
Bela (gently):
“Pehchaan gayi mujhe bina dekhe?”
Khushi (forcing a weak smile):
“Ma’am… kaise nahi pehchaanungi… aapke kadam ki aahat se hi tension badh jaata hai.”
Bela raised an eyebrow — half stern, half amused.
Bela:
“Tension badhta nahi, control hota hai jab main aati hoon. Tum bas overthink karna band karo.”
She placed the kaadha on the table, then stood beside Khushi, scanning the messy pile of notes. She sighed, stepped closer, and snatched the notes gently from Khushi’s hands.
Khushi (startled):
“Ma’am! Notes—”
Bela (cutting her off, sharply):
“Bas. Ab aur nahi. Tumhara dimaag abhi overload mode pe hai. Kuch aur padhogi toh sab ulta yaad rahega.”
Khushi (nervously):
“Ma’am… par agar kuch miss ho gaya toh?”
Bela (sighing):
“Khushi… tumhe lagta hai debate sirf bolne ka competition hai? Nahi. Debate is a mind game. Words se zyada matter karta hai confidence. Aur tumhare andar wo hai — tum bas bhool jaati ho kabhi-kabhi.”
Khushi looked down, voice trembling slightly.
Khushi:
“Ma’am… mujhe darr lag raha hai… agar mere words ulat gaye toh? Agar Ayushi ne kuch galat kar diya toh main handle nahi kar paungi…”
Bela folded her arms, her expression now firm — the way it always became when her students doubted themselves.
Bela (with quiet authority):
“Khushi, maine ek baar kaha tha na — agar tum khud pe vishwas nahi karogi, toh duniya tumhe hamesha kam samjhegi.”
She leaned forward, her voice softer now but filled with conviction.
Bela:
“Wo Ayushi hamesha har cheez unfair tarike se karne ki koshish karegi, par uska yahi dar sabse badi weakness hai. Tumhare paas sach hai, logic hai, aur mehnat hai. Aur jab koi sachai ke saath bolta hai, uski awaaz apne aap logon tak pahunch jaati hai.”
Khushi blinked back the tears that had been threatening to spill.
She wanted to believe every word Bela said — and deep down, she did.
Khushi (softly):
“Ma’am… agar main haar gayi toh?”
Bela smiled faintly, that rare, comforting smile which only appeared when she was truly proud.
Bela (firmly):
“Haar tabhi hogi jab tum bolne se pehle haar maan jaogi. Aur meri student aisa nahi karti. Samjhi?”
Mahir, standing beside her, nodded in agreement, adding his calm but firm voice.
Mahir:
“She’s right. Abhi dimaag ko shaant rakhna sabse zaroori hai. Tumne do din practice ki h na jee jaan lagake, toh believe karo usme. And don’t forget — tumhara gala abhi kharab hai.”
He handed her the cup of kaadha.
Mahir (softly, with a smile):
“Piyo… warna mujhe bhi kaadha peena pad jayega abhi.”
Bela (rolling her eyes):
“Bilkul. Dono ko.”
Khushi exhaled slowly. The nervousness began melting away, replaced by something stronger — resolve.
Khushi (quietly, with a shaky smile):
“Thank you ma’am… Thank you sir.. ab darr nahi lag raha. Bas… ek baar aur revise kar leti hoon points. Please.”
Bela nodded approvingly and handed her the notes.
Bela:
“Bas ek condition hai — yeh kaadha khatam karo bina shikayat ke. Gala baith gaya hai kal practice mein. Tumhare words aaj tumhara weapon hain, toh gala strong hona chahiye.”
Khushi (taking the mug, smiling genuinely now):
“Ji ma’am. Aap army trainer ban gayi h bilkul.”
Bela (smirking):
“Army nahi… mind trainer. Tum logon ka dimaag aur jazba dono sambhalna padta hai.”
The girls laughed softly, the tension finally lifting.
She adjusted Khushi’s blazer, and packed her notes neatly into her file.
Before leaving, Bela called her name.
Bela (warmly):
“Khushi…”
Khushi turned.
Bela (with a faint, proud smile):
“Go win it — for yourself this time.”
Khushi nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mix of gratitude and determination.
“For us, ma’am.”
Bela (nodding proudly):
“That’s the spirit. Ab sab apni cheezein check karo — aur ek bhi complaint nahi chahiye. Akshu, shoes thik se bandhe hain na?”
Akshu (saluting dramatically):
“Ma’am, double knot! Girungi toh sirf jeet ke baad!”
Bela (rolling her eyes):
“Pagal ladki.”
Vanshu (smiling as she zips her art bag):
“Ma’am, aaj toh lagta hai hum sab ek hi team ke soldier hain.”
Bela (soft smile):
“Bilkul. Aur aaj mission simple hai — win with dignity.”
Bela and Mahir exchanged a glance — a silent agreement.
Today wasn’t just about competitions.
It was about belief.
And Bela knew — she had prepared her girls well enough to face whatever came their way.
MOMENTS LATER -
The soft sound of temple bells echoed faintly as Team Unstoppable — Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi — stood before the mandir eyes closed, palms joined before Krishna Ji.
The aroma of fresh sandalwood incense hung in the air. A small diya flickered gently beside the idol.
Khushi (softly, under her breath):
“Bas Kanha ji… sab theek kar dena. Kisi ka bhi bharosa tutne na dena. Aur aaj koi gadbad mat hone dena please.”
Akshu (murmuring with eyes still closed):
“Match jeetne ki power dena… aur please, ma’am ko proud kar saku aisa aashirvaad dena. Unka “proud of you akshu” sunne mil jaaye bas.
Vanshu (whispering):
“Bas sab sahi se ho jaaye. Aur mai jo bhi banau best bane bina kisi ke gadbad ke.. Dhyaan rakhna kanha.”
They all smiled faintly as they finished their prayers, bowing together before stepping out of the mandir, still feeling that sense of calm that only those few quiet seconds of faith could bring.
But as soon as they turned around—
They froze.
Standing in the hallway, still in their tiny night pajamas, were Team Aashvi — Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku — their ponytails messy, faces glowing with mischief. Each of them held something behind their backs and were grinning from ear to ear.
Behind them, at the dining counter, Bela was busy packing tiffins, while Mahir helping her, both pretending not to watch — though the amusement in their eyes was impossible to hide.
Akshu (raising an eyebrow):
“Kya hua tum teeno ko? Aaj subah subah itna aisa look kyu?”
Kiku (giggling):
“Hum aap teeno ke liye kuch laaye hain!”
Khushi (smiling, bending down to her level):
“Sachhi? Kya laaye ho meri chhoti team?”
Kiku (innocently hiding her hands behind her back even more):
“Pehle guess karo!”
Khushi (pretending to think):
“Hmm… chocolates?”
Aashi (giggling harder):
“Wrong!”
Vanu (shaking her head dramatically):
“Bohot galat! Ab rules suno — pehle aap teeno eyes close karo!”
Akshu (eyeing Vanshu and Khushi, amused):
“Yeh sab ma’am ne sikhaya hai kya inhe?”
Bela (from the counter, without turning):
“Bilkul nahi. Yeh sab tum teenon ka asar hai.”
Mahir (grinning):
“Haan, drama gene inherited hai shayad.”
The older trio exchanged a smile before closing their eyes obediently.
Vanshu (half-laughing):
“Thik hai, close kar liye. Ab kuch prank mat karna haan.”
Aashi (whispering to the twins):
“Ready?”
The three little ones nodded at once, excitement practically bouncing off them. Then, in perfect coordination (well, almost), they pulled out a large handmade poster from behind their backs.
It was bright and messy — splashes of color, hearts, flowers, suns, and stick figures all over it. In the center, written in big uneven letters with glitter pen, were the words:
🌟 “ALL THE BEST DIDI!!!” 🌟
Beside it, there were tiny doodles — one of Akshu holding a badminton racket, Vanshu painting on a canvas, and Khushi with a mic in her hand. All three drawn with big smiling faces and crowns on their heads.
Vanu (excitedly jumping):
“Ab khol sakte ho eyes!”
The trio opened their eyes — and for a moment, there was only stunned silence.
Khushi’s lips parted in surprise, Akshu blinked twice, and Vanshu gasped softly surprised at this sweet little gesture.
Akshu (in awe):
“Aree… yeh… tumne banaya?”
Aashi (nodding proudly, her pigtails bouncing):
“Haan! Hum teenon ne milke! Maine likha h, Vanu ne color kiya aur Kiku ne hearts banaye!”
Vanshu (laughing at their cuteness):
“Arre, Kiku ke hearts toh perfect hai! Itne cute kaise banaye?”
Kiku (shyly hiding behind Aashi):
“Mujhe papa ne sikhaya…”
Mahir cleared his throat looking everywhere except Bela, embarrassed while Bela pretended not to hear anything her hands moving in work.
Khushi (smiling warmly, crouching down to hug them):
“Mujhe toh yeh sabse bada motivation mil gaya… Thank you meri chhoti team.”
Akshu (joining the hug, ruffling Kiku’s hair):
“Ab toh jeet ke aana hi padega. Team Aashvi ka order hai!”
Mahir (from behind, teasing):
“Jeetna hi padega warna yeh teeno next poster likh dengi ‘TRY AGAIN DIDI!’”
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Bela couldn’t help the small, affectionate smile tugging at her lips.
She came forward, adjusting the corner of the poster on the table, admiring it fondly.
Bela (softly, to the little ones):
“Bahut pyaara banaya tumne. Ab inhone haarne ka option khatam kar diya. Proud of you my babies!”
She placed a kiss on each of their cheeks lovingly.
Vanu (grinning):
“Haan mumma! Ab toh jeetna hi padega didi log ko!”
Khushi, Akshu, and Vanshu stood up, feeling a renewed spark of warmth and strength inside. Their nervousness faded — replaced by pride, affection, and the unspoken promise that they’d give their best.
Khushi (quietly, looking at the poster):
“Yeh sirf ek drawing nahi hai… Yeh ab hamara reason ban gaya h jeetne ka.”
Bela watched them silently — her eyes softening just a bit — before turning briskly toward the kitchen again.
Bela (with a small smirk):
“Ab sabko emotional hone ke liye bas yahi time mila tha. Ab chalo, breakfast khatam karo aur nikalna hain. Time waste nahi.”
Akshu (grinning at Vanshu):
“Dekha? Ma’am ko bhi emotional scenes pasand nahi.”
Bela (without turning, sternly):
“Mujhe sirf jeet pasand hai.”
The girls laughed together — the air lighter, the energy brighter.
Soon the morning rush had settled into a tense stillness.
Tiffin boxes were packed, bags slung over shoulders, and shoes neatly tied — all set for the day that could define everything.
Team Unstoppable — Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi — stood near the main door, their expressions a mixture of nervous energy and quiet determination. Their crisp uniforms looked perfect, but their hearts were racing beneath them.
Bela, dressed in her smart formal attire, was checking her watch for the third time, her tone brisk and composed as always.
“Chalo, sab ready ho? Humein jaldi pohochna hai. Principal sir ne kaha tha, participants ko jaldi aane ke liye.. Last minute preparation bhi dekhna hai.”
Akshu (nodding, trying to sound confident):
“Ready, ma’am.”
Vanshu (adjusting her bag strap):
“Haan ma’am, sab kuch rakh liya.”
Khushi (quietly clutching her file):
“Ji, ma’am…”
In the background, Mahir was standing with his cup of coffee, watching silently, while Team Aashvi — Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku — stood near the sofa, half hiding behind it, their sleepy faces bright with excitement.
Bela (to Mahir):
“Main aapse school mai milti hoon, aap baad mein baccho ke saath aa jaana time pe.10:30 tak pohoch jaiyega.”
Mahir (smiling softly):
“Jaisa hukm, officer. Humare bacche aur mai aapki seva mai waqt pe pohoch jayenge.”
Bela shot him a small glare for teasing her — but Mahir only chuckled, shaking his head.
She turned back toward the trio.
“Chalo, sab chalo. Der ho rahi hai.”
But none of the three moved.
Bela frowned slightly, noticing their uneasy expressions.
Bela (firmly):
“Kya hua? Ab kya reh gaya? File, racket, brushes — sab check kar liya na?”
The three exchanged a glance — nervous yet knowing. Something unspoken passed between them.
And before Bela could say another word —
All three bent down together, in perfect unison.
Touching her feet.
The suddenness of it hit her like a jolt.
For once, the strict, composed Bela was caught completely off guard. Her eyes widened; her hands, which usually stayed folded across her chest, hovered mid-air, unsure whether to stop them or bless them.
Bela (taken aback):
“Arre… yeh kya—? Utho! Kya kar rahe ho tum log?”
Her voice was sharp, but her tone… trembled slightly.
A rare flicker of emotion surfaced through her stern exterior.
Akshu (looking up with teary eyes, voice trembling):
“Ma’am… aapke aashirvaad ke bina hum kuch bhi nahi kar paayenge.”
Vanshu (softly, smiling through nervousness):
“Haan ma’am… aap hi toh reason h hum itna confident feel kar rahe hain. Aashirvaad dijiye please.”
Khushi (her voice breaking slightly):
“Ma’am, iske bina ek bhi kadam aage nahi badha paayenge hum. Aaj jo bhi karne jaa rahe hain… wo sirf aapki himmat aur aapke hum par bharose ki wajah se hai.”
Their sincerity hung heavy in the air.
For a moment, Bela couldn’t find words.
Mahir, standing a few feet away, watched with quiet pride. His eyes glistened faintly as he saw the respect and affection his wife had unknowingly earned — not through softness, but through her relentless faith in them.
Even the kids had gone still, watching curiously.
Vanu (whispering to Aashi and Kiku):
“Didi log mumma ko touch kar rahi hain?”
Aashi (whispering back):
“Shhh… aashirvaad le rahi hain, pagal!”
Bela finally exhaled, the tension in her shoulders melting just a little.
Her stern gaze softened — though she tried to keep it hidden.
She placed her hands gently on each of their heads, one by one.
“Bas. Ab aur drama nahi. Utho.”
Her voice was firm, but low — weighted with something unspoken.
Bela (soft but steady):
“Mere aashirvaad hamesha tumhare saath hain. Ab jao — aur dikhado sabko kya ho tum teeno. Jeet ya haar se zyada zaroori hai tumhara effort, samjhi?”
Akshu, Vanshu, Khushi (together):
“Ji, ma’am.”
Mahir (smiling warmly):
“Lagta hai ab koi tum teeno ko rok nahi sakta.”
Bela (straightening up, masking the emotion again):
“Rok toh koi pehle bhi nahi sakta tha. Chalo, nikalte hain — warna tumhare is drame mai der ho jaayegi.”
The trio laughed softly, as they stood up.
Mahir handed Bela her car keys, his fingers brushing hers lightly — a silent gesture of pride and admiration.
Mahir (quietly, to her):
“Tumne inhe sirf seekhaya nahi… inhe bana diya.”
Bela didn’t reply — just gave a small nod before turning toward the door.
Team Unstoppable followed her out, their faces determined, their hearts steady.
Behind them, Team Aashvi waved from the doorway, chanting in unison:
Team Aashvi (shouting):
“BYE DIDI! ALL THE BEST!”
And as the door shut behind them, Mahir stood there for a moment longer — smiling proudly, his voice a soft whisper to himself:
Mahir:
“Team Unstoppable… ab sach mein unstoppable hai.”
---
The School Auditorium – Morning of the Competition
The car rolled into the school premises earlier than most. The morning sun glinted off the glass walls of the new auditorium, where the banners fluttered proudly:
“Annual Inter-School Talent Championship – Let Excellence Speak.”
Inside the car, Bela sat in the passenger seat — her posture straight, eyes sharp as ever. The air was calm around her, but her gaze carried quiet intensity.
At the backseat, Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi sat silently, each in her own bubble of thoughts.
The faint sound of students chattering, volunteers running about, and the echo of last-minute announcements drifted through the open window.
Bela (turning slightly):
“Sab apne IDs, props aur materials check kar lo ek baar aur. Akshu — racket, Vanshu — sketches, Khushi — notes.”
Akshu (nervously clutching her kit):
“Sab le liya ma’am.”
Vanshu (checking her folder again):
“Haan ma’am, art file bhi yahin hai.”
Khushi (quietly nodding):
“Ji ma’am.”
Bela gave one approving nod — no extra words, no unnecessary comfort — just that silent assurance that she was there. Then she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking confidently against the school’s marble driveway.
---
Inside the Auditorium Lobby
The place was alive with chaos — teams from other schools buzzing with excitement, judges arriving with clipboards, and banners being fixed on the stage. The faint scent of polish and fresh paint mingled with the tension in the air.
The Principal, a tall man with a kind smile and old-school charm, spotted Bela the moment she walked in. He immediately approached her with open admiration.
Principal Sir:
“Ah, Bela ma’am! Always the first to arrive. I must say, your team’s discipline is unmatched.”
Bela (with a small, composed smile):
“Thank you, sir. They’ve worked really hard this time. I just hope the results reflect their effort — and that they’re able to make the school proud.”
Principal Sir (laughing lightly):
“I have no doubt. Especially because they’ve been training under you.”
Bela’s lips curved slightly, pride flickering behind her steady eyes — just for a moment.
Bela:
“Let’s hope their focus stays strong today. It’s their hard work that needs to shine now.”
The principal nodded approvingly and gestured toward the side hall.
Principal Sir:
“The participant’s room is ready. You can help them settle in before the events begin.”
Bela:
“Of course, sir. Thank you.”
And with that, Team Unstoppable walked toward the participant’s area — calm on the outside, but ready for the storm within.
---
Sehgal House – Same Morning
The Sehgal mansion, on the other hand, looked nothing like the calm school auditorium. It was pure chaos — the kind of chaos that only three hyperactive little girls and one amused father could create on a competition morning.
Mahir, multitasking between tying shoelaces, answering a call, and fixing a hairband, looked more like a harassed babysitter than the confident businessman he was.
Mahir (half-shouting, half-laughing):
“Arey meri princess log! Jaldi jaldi ready ho jao, hume time se pehle school pahuchna hai warna tumhari mumma hum sabko punish kar degi!”
He said this while adjusting Vanu’s crooked hairband, who was frowning in deep concentration at her reflection.
Meanwhile, Aashvi and Kiku, dressed in matching pastel frocks, were already giggling in the background, spinning around in their crocs as if it were a dance floor.
Aashvi (excitedly):
“Papa! Jaldi karo! Hume didi log ko cheer karna hai! Mujhe Akshu didi ko ekdum front seat se cheer karna hai!”
Kiku (bouncing next to her):
“Haan papa! Mujhe bhi! Hume sabse pehle pahuchna hai! Didi log aur mumma dono ko dekhna hai!”
Vanu (innocently):
“Papa… Vanshu didi ki drawings kitni sundar hoti hain na? Agar main judge hoti na, toh bina dekhe unko toffee de deti!”
Mahir, already chuckling at their chatter, bent down and kissed Vanu’s forehead.
Mahir (smiling):
“Vanu… trophy not toffee.”
Aashvi (bursting into laughter):
“Vanu ko toh har jagah toffee hi dikhai deti hai bas!” 😂
Kiku (giggling, covering her mouth):
“Sachhi papa!”
Vanu’s eyes widened in mock outrage. She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms dramatically.
Vanu (complaining to Mahir):
“Papa! Dekho na, Aashi chidha rahi hai! Aap daanto usko! Aapki princess ko chedha usne!”
Aashvi (teasing back):
“Main toh chidhaungi! Kyunki tu toh rotdu hai! Jab dekho papa ke paas bhaag jaati hai complain karne — complain box!”
Vanu (fuming):
“Main complain box nahi hoon! Main papa ki princess hoon! Tu bhi toh mumma se gum ki tarah chipki rehti hai jab dekho — ‘mumma, mumma!’” (She sticks her tongue out.)
Aashvi (hands on hips, indignant):
“Haan toh maan lo! Mumma mujhse zyada pyaar karti hai! Main unki favorite hoon!”
Vanu (gasps dramatically):
“Aaaaah! Papa dekho! Aashi mujhe maar rahi hai!” (Pulls Aashvi’s hair in revenge) “Tujhe toh main—!”
Kiku (panicking):
“Papa! Jaldi aao dono lad rahi hain! Aashi, chhod na! Lag jaayegi Vanu ko! Wo ro rahi hai!” (She pulls Aashvi away by her arm.)
Mahir, still trying to end his call, gave an exasperated sigh — but his lips twitched into a helpless smile.
Aashvi (still arguing):
“Haan toh isko toh aadat hai rona-dhona karne ki! Drama karke bach jaati hai har baar! Aur tu kya, Kiku? Hamesha iski side leti hai.. Mai bhi teri behen hoon n kabhi meri side bhi liya kar.. Jab dekho bas vanu karti h.”
Vanu (still tugging her hair):
“Nahi legi wo teri side! Wo meri behen hai — acchi wali! Teri tarah nahi, jab dekho mujhe maar deti hai — mirchi kahi ki!”
Aashvi (fuming):
“Vanuuu! Baal chhod warna—!”
Vanu (defiant):
“Warna kya, haan!?”
Kiku (groaning, trying to separate them):
“Are koi toh chhodo! Vanu, please! Tu good girl hai na?!”
Aashvi (snapping back):
“Oh hello! Matlab main good girl nahi hoon kya?!”
Kiku (pleading):
“Are maine aisa kab bola! Lekin koi toh chhodo!” 😫
Aashvi (firmly, still holding onto Vanu’s arm):
“Nahi chhodungi! Aaj toh isse main pakadke rakhoongi! Papa ki princess hum bhi hain, par dekho — papa sirf isko hi pyaar karte hain!” 😤
Vanu (glaring, still trying to wriggle free):
“Ha toh mumma bhi tujhe karti hain na! Maine kab kuch kaha? Ab chhod mirchi!” (She gives Aashvi a tiny punch on the arm.) 😠
Aashvi (gasps):
“Tu mujhe maar rahi hai?!” (Punches back with equal force.) 😡
The room turned into a miniature wrestling ring — two little warriors locked in a fierce (and adorable) sibling battle, while Kiku stood in the middle like a helpless referee.
Kiku (throwing her hands up):
“Bas karo dono! Lag jaayega! Papa! Aap hi sambhalo inko!” 😭
Having finally lost all hopes of peace, Kiku ran straight to Mahir, who was standing near the couch, phone pressed to his ear. She tugged on his t-shirt desperately.
Kiku (tugging, pouty):
“Papa, please chalo na! Dono phir se lad rahi hain!” 😩
Mahir (sighing, looking down at her innocent face):
“Phir se? Ab toh inke liye ek referee hi rakhna padega ghar pe…” (He muttered, amused.)
He ended his call mid-sentence, scooped Kiku up in one arm, and marched toward the battleground — the living room carpet, where Aashvi and Vanu were still at it, hair flying, faces puffed up in mock fury.
Mahir (loud but calm voice):
“Bas! Stop right there, meri jungli billi log!”
Both froze — Vanu’s hand still clutching a strand of Aashvi’s hair, Aashvi’s tiny fist still mid-air.
Mahir (raising an eyebrow):
“Ab koi mujhe batayega yeh WWE match kis baat ka ho raha tha?”
Aashvi (immediately pointing at Vanu):
“Papa, yeh mujhe chidhati hai har baar! Bolti hai main mirchi hoon!”
Vanu (defensive):
“Toh sach bola! Aur isne bola main rotdu hoon!”
Kiku (from Mahir’s arms, muttering):
“Dono hi ho…” 😏
Mahir (trying not to laugh):
“Wow, kya teamwork hai tum teenon ka! Ek ladti hai, ek chillati hai, aur ek commentary karti hai!”
All three looked up at him — and the tension broke. Aashvi giggled first, then Vanu, and finally even Kiku laughed in his arms.
Mahir knelt down to their level, still smiling.
“Ab suno, meri princess log — hum sab school ja rahe hain cheer karne tumhari didi log ke liye. Agar tum dono ne wahan bhi yeh boxing match shuru kiya, toh mumma wahi murgi bana degi aur bolegi— ‘Yeh hain mere dono mini wrestlers!’” 😂
The twins gasped In mock horror, eyes wide.
Aashvi & Vanu (together):
“Nahi papa! Please mat kehna!” 😳😆
Mahir (standing up, satisfied):
“Good! Ab sab shanti se ready ho jao. Vanu — baal theek karo. Aashi — drama band karo and crocs pehno. Kiku — tum referee bani rehna, okay?”
Kiku (saluting cutely):
“Ji papa! Main sambhal loongi un dono ko!”
Mahir smiled, kissed her forehead, and looked at his little chaos trio — his entire world.
“Bas, ab chalo princess log. Didi log ki team ko jeet dilane ka time aa gaya.”
The scene faded with giggles, as the Sehgal house echoed with laughter, tiny footsteps, and Mahir’s helpless, affectionate sighs — a father surrounded by three little hurricanes of love. 💫
---
Arrival at School – The Buzz Before the Storm
The silver car rolled into the school parking lot right on time, but inside, chaos was still very much alive.
Mahir was at the wheel, looking far too calm for a man who’d just survived three mini-tornadoes. Behind him, Aashvi, Vanu, and Kiku were peering out of the window with wide eyes — chattering, pointing, gasping at the banners and decorations fluttering all around.
Aashvi (excitedly):
“Papa! Dekho na! Kitna bada banner laga hai — ‘Inter-School Talent Championship’!”
Kiku (pressing her face to the glass):
“Papa, papa! Wahaan dekho! Akshu didi! Vanshu didi bhi!”
Vanu (grinning proudly):
“Haan aur Khushi didi bhi! Dekha, maine kaha tha na sabse acchi hamari didi log hain!”
Mahir parked the car, shaking his head with a soft smile.
Mahir:
“Lagta hai mujhe cheerleaders ke liye mic lana chahiye tha… tum teenon ki awaaz auditorium tak jaayegi.”
The girls giggled as Mahir got out and opened their doors one by one like a gentleman dad.
Each little hand found its place in his — a ritual they had since nursery days.
As they entered the main gate, a volunteer recognized him.
“Good morning, Mr. Sehgal! Bela ma’am auditorium ke andar hain, final preparations dekh rahi hain.”
Mahir (smiling):
“Perfect timing, jaise hamesha.”
The moment they stepped into the auditorium lobby, the familiar buzz hit them — announcements on the mic, last-minute rehearsals, and teachers rushing around.
Amid the crowd, Bela stood near the stage with her clipboard, issuing calm but firm instructions.
Her formals were elegant, her hair neatly tied, and that commanding aura around her made even the loudest students quiet down.
Aashvi (whispering dramatically):
“Papa… dekha? Mumma ka teacher mode on!” 😳
Vanu (nodding seriously):
“Bilkul! Ab jo bhi late aayega usko daant padegi.”
Mahir (suppressing a grin):
“Toh hum chup chaap chalte hain. Par aaj hum time pe h ekdum so no scolding.”
The three girls giggled and followed him quietly like obedient ducklings.
Bela turned just as they reached her — her stern expression melting the instant she saw them.
Bela:
“Aap sab aa gaye! (She looked at Mahir knowingly.) Time pe aana seekh liya in sabne — miracle.”
Mahir (mock offended):
“Arre ma’am, kabhi toh credit de diya karo. Tumhare liye toh main subah se referee, stylist, aur driver bana hua hoon.”
Bela (trying not to smile):
“Referee toh main hoti agar main hoti wahan. Aap toh khud unke saath masti karte h.”
Mahir (raising a brow):
“Accusation! I object, Your Honour.”
Khushi, Akshu, and Vanshu — who were nearby arranging their things — turned at the sound of their playful banter.
Akshu (smiling):
“Team Aashvi aur sir dono aa gaye! Ab toh luck double ho gaya!”
Vanshu (holding her sketch folder):
“Sir, aaj hum jeetenge na?”
Mahir crouched down to her level.
“Jeet toh fix hai, champ. Tumhara naam likh gaya hai trophy pe — bas jaake le aana hai.”
Khushi stood a bit apart — quieter than usual, still a little tense. Bela noticed it instantly.
She walked up to her, cupped her cheek gently, and said,
Bela (softly):
“Ghar mein bhi kaha tha na… perfect hone ka pressure mat lena. Bas apna best dena, aur baaki sab apne aap ho jaayega.”
Khushi nodded slowly, her eyes softening.
Mahir (adding with a smile):
“Waise bhi, Khushi naam wale log khud mein competition hote hain. Tumhara best sabke liye enough hai.”
Bela gave him a sidelong look, half amused, half impressed.
And just like that, a tiny smile finally broke on Khushi’s lips.
Akshu (whispering to Vanshu):
“Dekha? Sir ka pep talk hamesha kaam karta hai.”
Vanshu:
“Of course! Unka charm universal hai.”
Mahir (hearing that, pretending to flex):
“See? Tumhari didiyon ko bhi pata hai papa ka magic.”
Bela rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped.
“Bas bas, ab hero banne ki zarurat nahi. Let the girls focus — judges aa gaye hain.”
Mahir straightened playfully.
“Roger that, Captain.”
The girls lined up, adjusting their badges and files. Bela gave one last nod of confidence before heading toward the judges’ panel.
And as the auditorium lights flickered on, Mahir took his seat in the audience with the three mini cheerleaders bouncing beside him — ready to cheer “Team Unstoppable” louder than anyone else.
---
The Badminton Court – Beginning of the Competition
The auditorium’s sports wing buzzed with energy. Whistles blew, sneakers squeaked on the polished wooden floor, and the faint thud of shuttles being tested filled the air.
Banners fluttered above the court — “Inter-School Badminton Championship” — bold and bright under the lights.
Akshu stood near the entrance, racket in hand, her tracksuit neatly zipped, her nerves tucked carefully behind her determined face. She took a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline.
Behind her, Team Aashvi — Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku — ran in like a trio of tiny cheerleaders, pom-poms of energy bouncing around her. Mahir followed with his easy grin, carrying their snack bag and water bottles like a proud coach-dad.
Vanu (jumping excitedly):
“Akshu didi! Akshu didi! Hum aa gaye cheer karne!”
Aashi (hands on hips, pretending to command):
“Champion mode on! Focus kar lo didi, warna shuttle ud jaayega aur point bhi!”
Kiku (innocently, clutching her mini flag):
“Didi, main har shot pe clap karungi, promise!” 👏
Akshu laughed softly — their excitement melting her tension a little.
Akshu:
“Bas karo tum log, mujhe aur nervous kar doge.”
Mahir (grinning):
“Arre, ye toh warm-up hai! Pressure nahi, encouragement samjho. Tumhara match toh practice ka extension hai — bas audience badal gayi hai.”
Aashi (nudging Kiku):
“Dekha, papa bhi coach ban gaye!”
Vanu (mock whispering to Akshu):
“Par didi, papa ko bola tha na — energy drink ready rakhna. Warna unka pep talk incomplete rehta hai.”
Mahir raised an eyebrow, playing along.
Mahir:
“Energy drink ready hai, aur luck bhi. Ab bas tumhe serve karna hai — confidence ke saath.”
He handed her the bottle, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat.
Then Bela walked in — clipboard in hand, expression calm yet intense.
Her eyes met Akshu’s for a second — steady, proud, protective.
Bela (in her composed tone):
“Akshu. Deep breath. Shuttle pe nazar rakhna. Har serve ko ek target samajhna — jaise tumhe pata ho, bas yahi ek shot important hai.”
Akshu (nodding, focused):
“Ji, ma’am.”
Bela (softer now):
“Apne upar bharosa rakhna. Jo tumhe aata hai, wahi karna. Tum yahan tak khud ke dum pe pahunchi ho — ab court tumhara hai.”
Akshu looked at her, eyes shining — the fear replaced by quiet strength.
Khushi and Vanshu came running up, holding her racket bag and towel.
Khushi (smiling, though nervous for her friend):
“Best of luck, champ. Ab hum sab tumhare liye cheer karenge.”
Vanshu (hugging her quickly):
“Jitni practice ki hai, sab yaad rakhna. Bas shuttle pe focus karna, jaise ma’am ne bola.”
Akshu (exhaling, murmuring):
“Ha… bas shuttle pe. Focus… bas shuttle pe.”
The announcement echoed through the loudspeaker.
📢 “Next up — Singles Category, Akshika Thakkar from Green Valley Public School versus Rhea Mehta from St. Mary’s!!”
The crowd cheered as Akshu walked onto the court — head high, grip firm, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythmic squeak of her shoes.
Mahir and the kids took their seats near the front row, waving their little handmade “Go Akshu!” sign.
Bela stood at the side, arms crossed but eyes gleaming — the unspoken “you’ve got this” visible in her gaze.
The referee’s whistle blew.
First serve.
Akshu took her position, eyes narrowing on the shuttle.
Her breath slowed… her thoughts focused.
Akshu (under her breath):
“Bas ek shot. Ek point. Ek focus.”
She served — swift, perfect, clean.
The rally began — the back-and-forth rhythm building, crowd gasping as her smashes grew sharper, faster. Her movements were fluid, instinctive — like every lesson, every practice session had found its moment to shine.
Mahir stood up halfway through, cheering,
Mahir:
“Yahi toh meri champ hai! Let’s go, Akshu!”
The kids screamed,
Trio:
“Come on didi! Smash it!!”
Even Bela’s lips curved in the faintest smile, her eyes glinting with pride as Akshu dominated the court point after point.
And when the final whistle blew — the score flashing 21–11 — the audience erupted in applause.
Akshu dropped her racket for a moment, chest heaving, eyes stinging with disbelief and joy.
She turned toward her team, her voice trembling but steady.
Akshu (murmuring, smiling through the rush):
“Mujhe karna tha… aur maine kar diya. I did it, finally.. Yess!!”
The final whistle still echoed faintly across the court when the scoreboard blinked:
Akshika Thakkar – 21
Rhea Mehta – 11.
The crowd burst into cheers. The claps, the whistles, the echoing sound of celebration filled the entire auditorium — but none louder than two voices from the front row.
Khushi (jumping onto her chair):
“YESSS! THAT’S OUR AKSHU!!” 🎉
Vanshu (whistling, waving her sketchpad like a flag):
“Champion! Champion! Akshu rocks!!”
They both screamed in pure joy, whistling so hard that even a few students around them laughed and joined in.
Their energy was electric — infectious.
Mahir chuckled, clapping with pride, while Team Aashvi — the three little munchkins — bounced on their seats shouting:
Trio:
“Akshu didi jeet gayi! Akshu didi jeet gayi!”
Up on the court, Akshu stood frozen — breathing hard, sweat glistening on her forehead, her racket already fallen.
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t believe it.
She looked toward the scoreboard again… and then at her friends, standing on chairs, losing their minds for her.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
And then — she ran.
She ran straight toward the edge of the court where Khushi and Vanshu stood, arms wide open, screaming her name.
As soon as she reached them, the three collided into a tight, tearful hug — laughter and sobs mixing together.
Khushi (voice shaking with joy):
“Tu kar gayi, Akshu! Tu kar gayi yaar!”
Vanshu (sniffling but grinning):
“Humne bola tha na — bas shuttle pe focus karna!”
Akshu (laughing through tears):
“Ma’am ke words yaad aa rahe the… bas shuttle… bas shuttle… aur bas tum dono!”
They hugged tighter, not caring that everyone was watching — that they were shouting, crying, jumping — this was their moment.
From the sidelines, Bela stood silently, arms still crossed… but her eyes softened.
Her usual stern composure cracked into something rare — warmth.
She didn’t scold them.
She didn’t tell them to calm down.
She just stood there, a faint proud smile tugging at her lips, eyes glistening ever so slightly.
Bela (murmuring to herself):
“Let them have this one… they’ve earned it.”
Mahir caught her gaze across the court — the quiet pride they shared didn’t need words.
The kids were jumping, the trio was crying, the crowd was cheering — and for once, the strict coach let her heart smile freely.
Because Team Unstoppable wasn’t just winning — they were becoming.💫
---
Art Hall –
The echo of applause from the badminton court still lingered in the air as the scene shifted to a quieter, more focused corner of the school — the Art Hall.
The scent of fresh paint, sharpened pencils, and nervous excitement filled the room.
Rows of easels were neatly set, sunlight spilling in through the tall windows. The topic for the round was just announced —
“The World I Dream Of.”
Vanshu stood in front of her easel, clutching her pencil tightly. Her palms were slightly sweaty; her heart raced. The cheers for Akshu still echoed in her head, and though they filled her with pride, they also made her chest tighten.
Vanshu (thinking, biting her lip):
“Akshu ne kar dikhaya… ab sab mujhse bhi expect kar rahe honge. Par yaad rakh Vanshu — ma’am ne bola tha, sochna dil se, haath khud chalenge…”
Khushi immediately noticed it. She elbowed Akshu lightly.
Khushi (whispering): “Dekha? Ye toh abhi se tension le rahi hai.”
Akshu (smiling gently): “Bas thodi si nervous hai… dekhna, andar jaate hi sab bhool jaayegi.”
She inhaled deeply, glancing toward the doorway. Just then, Bela, Mahir, and Team Aashvi — the ever-excited trio of Aashvi, Vanu, and Kiku — came rushing toward them.
Aashvi’s hair was still a little messy from jumping in excitement during Akshu’s win, while Vanu and Kiku were carrying two paper cones of toffees — clearly their idea of “victory sweets.”
Aashvi (excitedly):
“Vanu keh rahi thi, ab Vanshu didi ki baari hai! Aur hum lucky charm banne aaye hain!”
Vanu (pouting but proudly):
“Haan! Kyunki humne Akshu di ko good luck diya tha, tabhi wo jeeti! Ab Vanshu didi ko bhi dena padega!”
Kiku (nodding, whispering dramatically):
“Warna painting jeetegi hi nahi!”
Everyone chuckled softly at her serious tone.
Vanshu, still tense, crouched a little to their height.
Vanshu (smiling faintly): “Accha toh tum log mere lucky charms ho, hmm?”
Vanu (grinning): “Haan! Aur hum toffee bhi laaye hai — sweet start ke liye!”
She popped one in Vanshu’s hand.
Mahir (folding his arms, teasing): “Aur main kya hoon phir?”
The girls giggled.
Aashvi (grinning): “Papa toh sabse important charm hain! Aap nahi hote toh hum sab toh bhaag jaate!”
Mahir bent down slightly to Vanshu’s level, his eyes kind yet firm.
Mahir (softly):
“Tum already jeet chuki ho, Vanshu. Bas yaad rakhna — kisi aur ko impress karne ke liye nahi, khud ko prove karne ke liye banana. Dil se banana, baki sab apne aap ho jaayega.”
Vanshu blinked, her eyes misting a little.
She nodded silently, her lips curving into a determined smile.
Bela, who had been standing slightly apart, finally spoke — her tone calm but with that unmistakable edge of strength that always pushed them forward.
Bela:
“Jo bhi karna, dil aur dimaag dono ka use karke karna. Har line, har color — tumhe define kare. Yeh tumhari story hai, aur tum hi uski writer ho.”
There was silence for a moment — the kind that seeps into your bones.
Even little Kiku stood still, staring up at Bela as if absorbing every word.
Akshu (placing a hand on Vanshu’s shoulder):
“Bas ek cheez yaad rakh — tu Vanshu hai. Team Unstoppable ka dil.”
Khushi (grinning, bumping her shoulder):
“Ab agar trophy ghar nahi aayi na, toh main teri painting frame karwa ke wall pe chipka dungi!”
That made everyone laugh — exactly what Vanshu needed.
Her tension melted into laughter, and she finally straightened up, clutching her brush with new confidence.
Vanu (squealing): “All the best, didi!”
Kiku (joining in): “All the best!!”
Aashvi (loudly): “Go Vanshu diii!”
As the bell rang announcing the round’s start, Vanshu took a deep breath.
She turned to look at all of them once more — her team, her people — and smiled.
That was enough.
Vanshu slowly dipped her brush in color, her mind beginning to flow with images — not of fancy cities or magical worlds, but something real.
She began sketching three girls standing together, holding hands — their backs to the viewer, facing a bright horizon.
Behind them, the faint outline of a woman — strong, protective, her arms almost forming wings.
The strokes came faster now.
Her world — her dream — was right here, in her team, her sisters, and the woman who pushed them beyond limits.
Khushi and Akshu watched from the glass window outside, trying not to disturb her.
Khushi (softly whispering):
“Dekha? Uska world toh hum hi hain…”
Akshu (smiling):
“Bas dil se bana rahi hai. Ab sab kuch perfect hoga.”
Inside, Vanshu was lost in her own rhythm. Her hands moved smoothly now, her earlier fear replaced with quiet determination. She shaded the sky with soft pastels, her strokes bold yet tender.
A few judges walked past her, pausing. One of them leaned closer, impressed.
The raw emotion in her art was hard to miss.
Bela observed silently from afar — her expression unreadable, but her eyes gleamed with pride.
When time was up, Vanshu stepped back, covered in flecks of color, breath trembling.
Her artwork glowed under the sunlight — three girls, hand in hand, facing the dawn of a new world.
Judge (softly, to another):
“There’s purity in this one. No show-off, just… heart.”
Vanshu heard that — and smiled faintly, tears stinging her eyes.
As she came out, Akshu and Khushi rushed toward her.
Akshu (grinning ear to ear):
“Tu toh Picasso nikli yaar!”
Khushi (playfully bumping her shoulder):
“Ab toh tujhe hi first prize milega.. Kya banaya h yaar… looks so realistic!”
Vanshu laughed weakly, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Bas ma’am ki ek line yaad rakh ke kiya — ‘Apne mann ko kagaz pe utaarna hai’. Par yaar I doubt first prize milega ya nhi baaki sab ne bhi bohot acchi paintings banayi h, competition is too tough.
Khushi: “Tension mat le, you have your best ab bas bhagwaan ji pe cjod de.. Jo hoga accha hi hoga. Aur nhi bhi hua toh humare liye you will always be the best artist.”
Akshu: “Aur nhi toh kya, mujhe toh Sirf tumhari drawing hi dikh rahi thi, Baaki kisne kya banaya Hume usse kya matlab. Toh humari nazar mai tum already ek winner ho.”
AFTER 20 MINUTES –
The art hall buzzed with excitement as the judges returned to the stage, their expressions serious — deliberately so.
Students stood in lines, brushes and pencils forgotten, hearts pounding. The air was thick with anticipation.
Akshu, Khushi, Team Aashvi, Mahir and Bela waited near the corner of the hall, eyes fixed on Vanshu who stood among the participants — her hands clasped tightly, knuckles white, chest rising and falling with every nervous breath.
Judge 1 (smiling faintly, into the mic):
“So… after a lot of discussion and appreciation for all the creativity we witnessed today… we have our results.”
The crowd went silent.
Judge 2:
“The Third Position goes to… Aditi Sharma from St. Anne’s Convent School!”
Applause erupted. Vanshu smiled politely, clapping too — but her heart thudded painfully.
Bela folded her arms, observing her from a distance.
Judge 1:
“And the Second Position goes to… Rahul Mehra from St. Xavier High School!”
Louder applause this time. Vanshu swallowed hard, the corners of her lips twitching into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She felt her heartbeat slow, a dull ache settling in her chest.
Vanshu (thinking, lowering her gaze):
“Bas… ho gaya. Shayad mere liye nahi tha. Akshu jeeti, ab Khushi jeetegi… main toh bas—”
But before the thought could finish —
Judge 2 (with a teasing grin):
“And finally, the First Position for the Inter-School Art Category… goes to someone who showed not just skill, but soul… whose strokes spoke emotions louder than words…”
A hush fell.
Judge 1 (announcing):
“Vanshika Agarwal — Green Valley Public School!”
For a moment, Vanshu just froze.
She blinked once, twice — unable to process the words.
The hall erupted in applause.
Akshu (screaming):
“Vanshuuuuu!!!”
Khushi (jumping):
“I told you! I told you!!!”
Vanshu stood still, her breath catching as tears welled in her eyes. Her vision blurred, but the sound of her friends’ cheers cut through everything.
She looked at Bela — who simply nodded once, a proud, calm smile tugging at her lips.
Bela (quietly, under her breath):
“I knew it.”
Vanshu covered her mouth,still unable to believe that she did it, her shoulders trembling with emotion. Team Aashvi was probably jumping, dancing, and blowing their toy whistles in wild celebration. Mahir clapped with unrestrained joy, almost dancing alongside his daughters — as if it were his own child who had won the first prize. Akshu and Khushi stood up on their chairs again, whistling and clapping with all their might, their excitement echoing through the hall. Bela’s eyes glistened with pride, but before anyone could notice, she turned away and quietly wiped the corners of her eyes.
Akshu (yelling):
“Unstoppable, baby!!!”
Khushi (beaming through tears):
“Team Unstoppable, two down, one to go!”
Bela folded her arms again, but the faintest shimmer of emotion passed through her eyes.
Two down indeed.
School Auditorium – Debate Competition
The grand auditorium felt completely different now — heavier, quieter, charged with exp6ectation.
Rows after rows of students filled the seats, teachers murmured among themselves, and the judges sat at the front, their expressions stern and unreadable.
The bright lights focused on the stage made everything feel larger than life — and right in the middle of it all stood Khushi, clutching her notepad tightly against her chest.
Her heart hammered so loud she could hear it echoing in her ears.
Her palms were clammy, throat dry, and the air felt too thin to breathe.
Khushi (in her mind):
“Bas… ek baar shuru kar doon… ek baar shuru kar doon toh sab theek ho jaayega. Ma’am ke samne itni baar practice ki hai… par yeh… yeh crowd alag hai… itna bada… kahi kuch gadbad na ho jaaye.. Ma’am ne itni mehnat ki h khushi you have to do it.”
She glanced around — the banners, the judges’ table, the hundreds of faces staring back.
Every whisper in the audience felt amplified. Every shuffle of feet made her pulse race faster.
Her fingers instinctively went to her nails fidgeting — that old nervous habit she could never hide.
From the first row, Bela noticed instantly.
She didn’t say a word, but her eyes locked with Khushi’s — a look so sharp, so steady, that Khushi froze mid-motion.
Bela’s gaze silently said everything her words didn’t.
“Stop. Breathe. Focus.”
Mahir, sitting beside the kids, leaned slightly forward, his own expression soft with concern.
He whispered to the trio beside him —
Mahir (softly):
“Dekha tumhari didi ko? Nervous ho gayi lagta hai…”
Aashi (innocently):
“Papa, unhe hug karne chalein? Hug karne se unhe better lagega.”
Mahir smiled faintly.
“Abhi nahi, champ. Jab jeet jaaye tab.”
On stage, Khushi took a deep breath. Her legs still felt like lead, but her eyes found Bela again — calm, grounded, unshaken amidst the chaos.
Bela (murmuring under her breath, almost like a prayer):
“Come on, Khushi… you’ve got this.”
The emcee’s voice echoed through the speakers —
“Next, we have Khushi Agarwal from Greenfield Public School, speaking for the motion —
‘Social Media: A Boon or a Curse?’”
Applause filled the room.
Khushi’s throat tightened as she stepped forward toward the mic. The bright light hit her face, blinding for a second.
She gripped the podium’s edge tightly. Her papers trembled in her hand — so she placed them down, breathing in and out slowly.
From the front row, Bela’s subtle nod — that familiar, grounding assurance — steadied her.
Khushi (in her mind):
“Ab sirf main hoon… aur yeh stage. Ma’am ne kaha tha — sach bolna, dil se bolna. Toh bas wahi karungi. Karna hi hoga tujhe Khushi ab peeche hatne ka option nhi h.. Because yeh nhi hu na toh tu apne aap ko face nhi kar payegi.”
She looked up, and for the first time since morning — her voice, though soft, came out clear and steady.
Khushi (beginning):
“Good morning respected judges, teachers, and my dear friends…”
The first line left her mouth — and suddenly, something shifted. The trembling slowed, the panic dulled, and her words started flowing — one after another — steady, confident, alive.
From the audience, Akshu and Vanshu leaned forward, whispering almost together:
Akshu: “That’s our Khushi.”
Vanshu: “Unstoppable — round three. You can do it.”
And Bela… she didn’t smile.
But her eyes gleamed with quiet pride — because she knew this was not just a speech.
This was her student fighting every fear she’d ever had.
Khushi’s opening lines flowed with poise — her voice gaining strength with each word. The hall, once an intimidating blur, began to fade into the background. Her arguments were sharp, simple, and sincere.
Khushi (firmly):
“Social media, when used wisely, connects minds, spreads awareness, and gives voice to those who were once unheard. It’s not the platform that’s a curse — it’s our misuse that turns it into one.”
The audience nodded, a few students even clapping lightly.
Bela’s expression didn’t change — she never reacted too soon — but there was the faintest spark in her eyes.
On the opposite podium, Nidhi Singh, her opponent, smirked — the same confident smirk that had irritated Khushi since the first day of practice sessions. She adjusted her mic, tossing her hair back.
Nidhi (mocking sweetness):
“Well said, Khushi. But let’s not be too idealistic, shall we? You talk about awareness, but aren’t we all aware that half of what spreads on social media is fake? It’s a web of lies — not voices. And—”
(she leans forward slightly)
“—some people only pretend to sound confident for a few minutes on stage before they forget what they were even saying.”
The audience chuckled.
Khushi’s hand, resting on the podium, stiffened. The taunt hit harder than she wanted to admit.
Bela straightened in her seat, her eyes narrowing, watching Khushi closely.
Akshu whispered to Vanshu from the row behind:
“Yeh firse wahi attitude…”
“Khushi ko ignore karne de… usse khud ka jawab mil jaayega.”
Khushi took a breath, forcing herself not to react.
She waited for Nidhi to finish her round, smiling politely even as her heart pounded.
When the moderator nodded to her for the rebuttal, she began again — steady, but her rhythm faltered midway.
Khushi (continuing):
“It’s true that misinformation exists… but… um… but social media also—”
(she paused, flipping her notes nervously)
“—also helps people… uh…”
Her words tangled.
Her chest tightened. The crowd blurred again.
That heavy silence — the kind every speaker dreads — filled the hall. A few whispers started from the back. Her throat went dry.
She could see Nidhi smirking, folding her arms smugly. She was one of the best speakers of her school and had a record of winning every debate with her cunning answers. Khushi knew it was not going to be easy, she could feel the pressure.
The panic crept in fast — that same old trembling in her fingers. The paper in her hands rattled softly.
Her eyes darted to Bela instinctively.
And Bela, calm as ever, didn’t mouth a word — she simply gestured once —
A soft press of her palm down in the air.
Breathe. Ground yourself.
Khushi closed her eyes for two seconds.
In that tiny pause — she remembered Bela’s scolding from practice:
“Don’t memorize words, Khushi. Yeh koi ratta maar ke viva nhi dena h tumhe. Speak what you believe in. Debate is not about proving others wrong — it’s about standing firm in your truth. Tumhe khud pe aur apne shabdon pe bharosa hona chahiye."
When she opened her eyes again, the tremble was gone.
She stepped away from the podium slightly, looked directly at the judges — and spoke.
Khushi (calmly, but with strength):
“Yes, social media can spread lies. It can divide opinions, distort facts, and even hurt people. But so can the world outside it. The difference is — on social media, you still have the power to choose what you believe, what you share, and what you stand for.”
Her voice gained power — a resonance that silenced the hall.
Khushi (continuing, passionately):
“The problem isn’t the app in our hands — it’s the intent in our hearts. If we learn to scroll with sense, speak with empathy, and listen before judging — then social media isn’t a curse.
It becomes the loudest voice of humanity.”
Her final words echoed across the auditorium.
The hall fell utterly silent — no whispers, no murmurs — just the sound of her steady breathing.
Then — applause.
First soft, then rising — louder and louder until it filled the entire room.
Akshu and Vanshu leapt up, cheering wildly —
“KHUSHIII! YESSS!”
Akshu even whistled, standing on the chair, while Vanshu clapped so hard her palms turned red.
Mahir smiled wide, the twins jumping in excitement beside him, shouting —
“Didi jeet gayi! Didi jeet gayi!”
Bela sat still for a second, absorbing it — then a small, rare smile touched her lips. Not pride in victory — but in transformation.
Because the girl who once stammered through her first line in practice…
Had just silenced a hall full of people — with her truth.
Moments After the Debate
Khushi stepped down from the stage, her breath uneven, palms still trembling as she clutched her notecards. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it over the applause still echoing behind her.
The crowd, the lights, the microphone — it all felt like a blur now. She didn’t even remember half of what she had said. She had just… spoken. From instinct. From belief. From everything Bela had ever taught her about courage and conviction.
Before she could process a single thought, two familiar figures came running toward her.
Akshu (breathless, eyes shining):
“Khushi!!! Tu… tu toh kamaal kar gayi Yaar! Kya bola h tune, wo Nidhi ka chehra dekhne layak tha, Pehli baar usko barabar ki takkar mili h ekdum.”
Vanshu (throwing her arms around her):
“Pagal! Tune toh literally sabko chup karwa diya! Pura hall silent ho gaya tha, did you even see that!?”
Khushi blinked, stunned, her lips trembling as she hugged them both tightly — clinging as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.
Khushi (voice breaking, half laughing, half crying):
“Mujhe… mujhe kuch yaad bhi nahi… maine kya bola? Sahi bola na? Galat toh nahi ho gaya na? Pata nhi bas us waqt jo sahi laga bol diya.. Kahi Ma’am gussa na ho jaaye, agar haar gayi toh.. Ma’am ko kaise face karungi.”
Her words tumbled out in one breath, her eyes glassy, shoulders shaking.
Akshu (smiling softly, rubbing her back):
“Sahi bola? Tu toh sabse best boli h yaar. Tumne dil se bola, aur wahi sabse bada point hota hai.”
Vanshu (nodding quickly):
“Haan, aur tune dekha? Judge bhi bas tujhe dekh rahe the! Nidhi ka expression dekhne layak tha!”
Khushi’s nervous laugh escaped between her tears. She still didn’t trust it — didn’t believe she’d done that well.
And then — the sound of soft footsteps.
They turned.
Bela stood there — calm, composed, hands folded loosely in front of her. The faintest trace of emotion lingered in her eyes, but her face stayed unreadable.
Khushi immediately straightened, wiping her cheeks, fixing her dupatta — the old reflex of a student standing before her mentor.
Khushi (fumbling):
“Ma’am… wo… I—I don’t know if I did it right… I froze in between… and then—”
Bela simply stepped closer. For a moment, she said nothing — just looked at Khushi, her gaze steady and deep.
Then, softly:
Bela:
“You didn’t speak like a participant today, Khushi. You spoke like someone who believed what she was saying. That’s far greater than perfection.”
Khushi’s throat closed again — tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Akshu (grinning through her own emotion):
“Dekha? Ma’am bhi keh rahi hain — you killed it!”
Vanshu (playfully bumping her shoulder):
“Ab rona band kar warna hum bhi ro denge.”
Khushi gave a watery laugh, finally breathing out the weight she didn’t realize she’d been carrying.
For the first time that day, she smiled — not nervously, not shyly — but with the quiet pride of someone who finally found her voice.
Bela looked at the three of them — these girls who had once walked into her life as uncertain students, now standing tall, strong, and shining — and for a brief second, she looked away, blinking once.
Because even a teacher, sometimes, needs a moment to hide her tears.
---
To be continued..
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