Vol1. Start of My Loner Life

My name is Taruo Taichi, and I am 10 years old. I live in a small town called Banur on National Highway 7 between Chandigarh and Patiala. While Banur isn't a popular tourist destination, its strategic location attracts people from other states to settle here. I attend Banur Public School, which is regarded as the top school in our area.

Today marks the beginning of a new academic year. In India, the education system follows a 10+2 structure, preceded by three foundational years of pre-nursery, nursery, and kindergarten. This year, I am in class 5. Traditionally, class 5 is divided into two sections: A and B. At least, that's what I thought—until today.

The morning was pleasant, and I arrived early, ensuring I was settled before class began. My friends and I took our usual seats, eager yet apprehensive about the identity of our new class teacher. Shortly after, a male teacher entered the room, silencing the chatter. He was Rinji Rachin, and I recognized him as my former tuition teacher. It was evident he would be our class in charge for the year. From the reactions of my classmates, it was clear that not everyone was thrilled by this development.

As customary, the class chorused, "Good morning, sir," in unison.

"Good morning. Please sit down," he replied. Once everyone settled, he introduced himself formally. "My name is Rinji Rachin, and I will be in charge of your class this year. I will also be teaching you English."

'This year is going to be challenging,' I thought.

Moments later, a knock at the door redirected our attention. A female teacher entered, and Rachin Sir walked over to speak with her. Their conversation was inaudible to us, but the room buzzed with murmurs and speculation as they talked.

'How do my classmates always find something to talk about? Is there no end to their curiosity?'

The teachers' discussion concluded, and the class fell silent. However, the female teacher remained in the room, piquing our curiosity. Rachin Sir addressed the class, saying, "I will call out some names. If your name is called, pack your belongings and step outside."

Confusion spread across the room. He began reading out names, selecting two girls and six boys. To my surprise, one of my friends was among them. Then, Rachin Sir approached me. My heart raced as he spoke directly, and I reluctantly agreed to his request. With that, I joined the selected group. We followed the female teacher out of the classroom, joining a few other students waiting outside.

The teacher led us to the old school building. Our school is divided into three sections: the old, new, and morning assembly ground. Each section's purpose is self-explanatory. We stopped in front of a metal door. She unlocked it, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room with a single ceiling fan and a wall painted black, serving as a makeshift blackboard. At her signal, we entered and took our seats on the benches. I sat next to my friend, still uncertain about what was happening.

'Why am I here?'

Let's rewind a bit to understand how I ended up in this situation. Earlier, Rachin Sir had approached me and said, "We are forming a new section this year. One student refused to transfer, so I'm asking if you would be willing to take their place."

The request seemed simple enough, but I couldn't help but wonder why he chose me. The answer was clear: my father. Known for his temper, my father had a reputation that Rachin Sir likely wanted to avoid challenging. Feeling somewhat obligated, I agreed.

"Okay, sir," I said.

And now, here I was. Whether or not it was the right decision no longer mattered. At least my friend was with me—or so I thought.

The female teacher began introducing herself. "My name is Lina Fuji, and I will be in charge of your class this year. I will also teach you Punjabi."

In India, students up to class 10 study three core subjects: science, social science, and mathematics, alongside three languages: English (mandatory), Hindi (the national language), and a regional language (Punjabi, in my case). She continued, "As you may have noticed, we created a new section, Section C, by selecting students from existing sections. Are there any questions?"

A boy stood up and asked, "Why were we selected, and why was a new section created?"

She responded, "The original sections had too many students, so we redistributed them. As for why you were selected, it was purely random."

'Random? Not in my case!' I thought.

Satisfied, the boy sat down. With no further questions, Lina Ma'am initiated a round of self-introductions. She pointed to the student closest to the door and said, "You start."

I barely paid attention, preoccupied with crafting my introduction. When my turn came, I stood up and said, "My name is Taruo Taichi. I don't have any specific hobbies.

I look forward to studying with you all." Then, I quickly sat down.

'Nailed it!' I thought. My voice was so low that I doubted anyone had heard me. No one asked me to repeat myself, and I didn't mind. As long as my friend was around, I didn't need anyone else. However, my assumption was about to be shattered.

Rachin Sir returned to the classroom during lunch and spoke briefly with Lina Ma'am. She then called my friend and instructed him to pack his belongings and return to his original section. Without even glancing at me, he left. The incident unfolded so quickly that I barely had time to process it.

'What just happened?'

Suddenly, I was alone in a room full of unfamiliar faces. My friend was gone, leaving me with no one to talk to. The reason became apparent: in our original class, one student had felt isolated and cried, prompting the teacher to reassign someone. Thanks to my father's reputation, I wasn't chosen.

Sighing, I rested my head on the desk, regretful of my decision to transfer. The first day ended without me speaking to anyone.

A week passed. By then, the class had segregated into distinct groups. Among the boys, there were the "nobles," the "commoners," and the "outcasts." The girls' groups were more straightforward: "nobles" and "commoners." Outcasts, like myself, were socially awkward, academically weaker, or lacked humor. I didn't feel like I belonged in this category, but circumstances made it so. Occasionally, other students interacted with outcasts, perhaps out of a sense of unity, but no one spoke to me.

Rumors began circulating. Some thought I was shy, others believed I was arrogant, and others even assumed I was an honor student. I earned nicknames like "Kind Saint" and "Silent Boy." Though "Silent Boy" had a fabulous ring, none of these labels truly reflected who I was. The reality was simple: I had no friends and didn't talk to anyone. My silence intrigued people.

When the test results were announced, I had topped the class. This surprised everyone. "How did he do it?" they wonder." The answer was straightforward:

No friends = No talking = No distractions = More focus = Better grades.

And so, my solitary life began. Thus, my journey—Taruo Taichi's youth story—commenced.