Some days, our tuition class feels like a school.
Other days?
It feels like a reality show where no one wins, and the host is sir, who doesn’t even realize he's the main comedian.
It was a Wednesday evening, 5:30 PM sharp, and we were all dragging our sleepy, stressed souls up the stairs like zombies attending a math funeral. The sun was yawning. The fans were spinning half-heartedly. And sir? Sir was already sitting with a glass of lemon tea and a grin like he knew something we didn’t.
“Class,” he said, clapping his hands, “today we will learn serious concepts. I hope none of you are thinking about food.”
Sinan: “Sir, I haven’t even thought about life.”
Devitha, from behind me, whispered, “I swear on my broken compass, if sir gives us another two-page derivation, I’ll start a hunger strike.”
“Start?” I whispered. “Weren’t you already on it since lunch?”
Devitha: full pig mode laugh activated
Everyone: 👁👄👁
Sir: “Who is that pig laughing?”
Whole class: DEAD.
---
Just as sir was about to start a question, a sudden commotion came from the door.
It was the 12th batch—aka the final boss level seniors.
Suhail walked in first, holding a paper like he was carrying state secrets. Behind him, came Aaliya, Ameen, Diya, and Jasim, arguing about something that clearly didn’t matter.
> Ameen: “Bro I’m telling you, Kerala Blasters is better.” Jasim: “You also said Bournvita gives you height—look at yourself.”
Suhail plopped onto the bench near the window, his spot. The light hit his face in that cinematic way, and I swear even the dust particles paused to admire him.
I looked away quickly. But not before Naznin elbowed me.
Naznin: “Ameena, your hero arrived.” Me: “HE’S NOT MY HERO.” My heart: beating Nadan beats
Meanwhile, Amna, Surya Gayathri, Allet, and Sreekumar entered like background dancers in a political movie. Sir gave them the usual death glare, but his face melted the moment Amna handed him a banana.
Sir: “Ah. Good girl.”
---
6:30 PM: The Wi-Fi Disaster Begins
So, the Wi-Fi was acting possessed. No one’s phones were connecting.
Rayyan: “Who changed the password?” Sir: “What password? There’s a password?” Me: “Yes sir. Someone must’ve reset the router.”
Aman C.A., the self-declared tech support of the 12th batch, stood up and said, “I’ll fix it.”
He bent near the router, pressed a few buttons like he was hacking NASA, and then—
> Boom. Entire class loses connection. Sir’s phone starts blaring a YouTube ad in full volume:
“DO YOU HAVE PILES? TRY—” Sir: 💀
Everyone laughed like their stress evaporated.
Suhail, sitting right behind me now, leaned closer and said,
> “This is why we shouldn’t give tuition kids Wi-Fi.”
Me, nearly choking: “And this is why we shouldn’t let seniors near routers!”
He smirked.
I died.
My friends saw.
They telepathically planned my funeral.
---
7:15 PM: Chaos Levels MAX
Sir gave us a complex science question.
“Whoever answers this will get a Dairy Milk.”
You’d think we were offered diamonds.
Devitha and Sinan argued like siblings fighting over TV remote.
Yaseen banged the desk like a lawyer.
Sreekumar stood up and explained the whole answer—but it was for the wrong question.
Sir: “This is why I have grey hair.”
In the corner, Emmanuel whispered something like, “I once saw sir in Lulu Mall eating alone…”
Everyone: “BRO WHAT??”
Laughter exploded.
Sir: “I WASN’T ALONE. I WAS WITH A FRIEND.” Jumana: “What’s his name sir?”
Sir: “Excel Sheet.”
---
8:15 PM: Pack-Up Hour
Everyone’s brains were officially fried.
Sir: “Okay okay. Let’s end here. Don’t forget, next class is on Friday.”
Suhail and his gang were the first to get up. As he passed by our bench, he looked at me and casually said:
> “Don’t bring Wi-Fi next time. You guys create more drama than serials.”
I wanted to reply something cool.
I ended up saying: “Then stop watching us like it's Mazhavil Manorama.”
He smiled. I caught it. I stored it in my brain's hard disk. Forever.
---
As we all left, sir locked the square-holed steel door and waved us goodbye like we were going on a war mission.
I walked out that night, surrounded by laughter, chaos, and the echo of Suhail’s voice.
This wasn’t love.
Not yet.
But it was something.
Something I’d never forget.
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