The day started earlier than usual.
At 5:00 AM, the alarm buzzed, but Vishakha was already awake, staring at the ceiling, heart fluttering like a bird caught between nervousness and excitement.
Today was orientation day at St. Helina's School — the school she had only whispered about for years, the one she now belonged to. It wasn't just a new class; it was a new world.
At home, her tiny room smelled of fresh starch. Her mother had ironed her uniform the night before with such care, you'd think she was preparing a bride. A white shirt, deep blue skirt, a maroon ribbon — St. Helina's signature colors.
"Wear this ribbon proudly," her mother said, tying it into a neat bow. "It's more than just cloth. It's your new start."
Her father stood quietly in the doorway, pretending to read the newspaper, but his eyes peeked over the top, stealing glances at her in uniform — like he was seeing a dream take shape.
Breakfast was hurried. Poha and a glass of milk. She could barely eat — her stomach was doing somersaults. Her school bag was light but felt heavy with hope.
As they left for school, her little brother ran after her and handed her a pen. "It's lucky," he said. It was a second-hand gel pen with a faded cap, but she slipped it into her pocket like it was made of gold.
At the Orientation Hall – St. Helina's School
The campus was grand. Clean white buildings with flower beds. The walls were lined with photos of award winners, science fairs, and ex-students in suits. Vishakha felt small for a moment, like a misplaced puzzle piece.
The orientation hall was already half-filled. Students sat in clusters — some with friends, others like her, alone, clutching admission letters and dreams. Parents filled the back rows, eyes scanning the room like guardians of fragile futures.
The stage had a large banner:"Welcome to St. Helina's Higher Secondary School – Class of 2025"
A lady in a blue saree walked up to the mic — the Principal. Her voice was calm but powerful.
She spoke of expectations, opportunities, and how each girl here was chosen for her potential. She didn't talk like a disciplinarian. She talked like someone handing over a torch.
As Vishakha listened, something shifted. She sat up straighter. She wasn't here by luck. She had earned her place.
Then came the ice-breaking session. Vishakha introduced herself softly, almost afraid of how her name would sound in such a posh place. But when she said "Vishakha Sharma, from St. Thomas Middle School," the girl next to her smiled and said, "Oh! That's a great school. You must be good at math."
Something clicked. A thread of confidence stitched itself into her spine.
The orientation ended with a school tour — science labs, library, and the legendary assembly ground. Vishakha stared in awe at the shelves of books, the high ceilings, the quiet energy of a place built for growth.
Before leaving, each student was given a school diary and a small badge with their name.
She stared at it on the way home in the auto —"Vishakha B. – Grade 11 – Science Stream"
Her father looked at her from the front seat and asked, "So, are you ready for this?"
She didn't hesitate.
"I think I've been ready my whole life," she said, with a smile that held every late-night study, every sacrifice, every silent prayer whispered into pillow corners.
And in that moment, the girl from the narrow lane felt like she belonged. Not just to the school — but to her future.
Finishing the orientation, Vishakha and her family headed towards their home having the feeling of getting into the new world.