Madness of India

The morning began before the sun had quite decided to show its face.

Isabella was the first to wake. Years of royal discipline had her eyes snapping open at six sharp, her body unwilling to accept that this was supposed to be a holiday. For a few seconds, she lay still, listening — the fan whirring, the faint rustle of trees outside, and somewhere far away, a temple bell ringing through the dawn.

She turned her head. Estella was already up too, sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone with a sleepy smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Isabella asked.

“Couldn’t stop thinking,” Estella said. “First day of school in a whole new country. Feels… weirdly exciting.”

“Hmm,” Isabella murmured, stretching. “Let’s hope we survive the day without embarrassing ourselves.”

By six-thirty, both girls were ready — uniforms neatly ironed, hair tied, shoes gleaming. The royal habits showed: their beds were made, their bags were packed, and even their ribbons were aligned like they’d been measured by an architect.

The rest of the house, however, was dead silent.

Estella peeked into the boys’ room. “Oh dear.”

Aaron was face-down, buried under his pillow, while Ishaan had somehow managed to sleep sideways across the bed, his blanket half on the floor, one sock still dangling from his foot like a flag of surrender.

“I thought the bus came at seven-thirty?” Isabella whispered.

“It does,” Estella said. “They said it takes forty minutes to get to school. Shouldn’t they be up by now?”

As if on cue, a faint grumble came from under Aaron’s pillow.
“Five more minutes…”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “I think ‘five minutes’ is his life motto.”

They tiptoed back into the hall, where Mrs Banerjee was already up, in her cotton saree, hair tied up, the smell of toasted bread and boiling milk filling the air. She looked at the girls and beamed.

“Oh, look at you two! Ready before sunrise! If only my sons had half your discipline.”

Estella laughed. “We just didn’t want to miss the bus.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Mrs Banerjee said, pouring milk into glasses. “The bus will come honking like a war trumpet when it does. You’ll hear it before you see it.”

From the boys’ room came a loud thud, followed by Ishaan’s voice:
“Aargh! Who moved my uniform?!”

Mrs Banerjee didn’t even look up. “Probably the ghost of punctuality trying to haunt you.”

Aaron stumbled out next, hair a mess, tie still in his hand. “Ma! Why didn’t anyone wake us?”

“I did. Twice. You said, and I quote, ‘Tell the sun to come back later.’”

Estella burst out laughing so hard she almost spilt her milk.

“Come on, bhaiya, hurry up,” Isabella said teasingly. “You’ll make us late for our first day.”

Aaron groaned, trying to button his shirt and eat toast at the same time. “You sound like Ma already.”

“Then listen to her,” Mrs Banerjee called, “because I’ve given up!”

By the time the clock struck seven-twenty, chaos had fully bloomed. Ishaan was still searching for one sock, Aaron was trying to tie his tie while running, and Mrs Banerjee was holding both their bags hostage until they finished at least one glass of milk.

Outside, the faint rumble of an approaching engine echoed down the lane.

“Bus!” Estella gasped, peering through the balcony railing.

A yellow-and-green school bus emerged from the morning mist, honking twice like it had done this dance a hundred times before.

“Go, go, go!” Mrs Banerjee said, shoving notebooks and tiffin boxes into open bags like a general dispatching soldiers to battle.

Aaron half-jumped into his shoes. “Why does it always come early on Mondays?”

“Because it hates you,” Ishaan said, finally finding his sock and running after him.

The girls exchanged a look — half amusement, half disbelief — and followed them out the door.

The lane outside smelled of rain and dust. Neighbours waved from balconies. The bus engine purred impatiently as the driver leaned on the horn again.

Estella clutched her bag tighter. “Well,” she said softly, “no turning back now.”

Isabella smiled, her heart beating just a little faster. “Let’s make it count.”

And as the doors of the bus hissed open, welcoming them into a whole new kind of chaos, Delhi’s day had properly begun.

As they walked into the bus, they became the centre of attention as they made their way down the aisle, transitioning from junior to middle to high school students; everyone’s eyes were fixed on the girls, including the teachers and the female security guard on the bus.

“Who is that didi?”

“Wow, she is so beautiful”

“Bhai, you see her, she looks hot,” one of the boys said, pointing towards Isabella.

“Looks like you became the celebrities already, huh ?” Ishaan half-jokingly said so.

“Ya, though would have preferred not to attract so much attention from the beginning”, Estella whispered.

“Dont worry, it will die down soon, just sit with him and doze off for 30 mins”, Aaron said, and he and Ishaan went and sat down on seats in a practised motion as if those seats were already reserved for them.

They were followed by Isabella and Estella, who sat beside them.

“Aur bhai, what's up?” a voice came from behind

“Ahhh, if it isn't Aryan, what's up?” Aaron is giving a dap to him.

“So, Ar, how was your trip to Europe, huh? It seems you brought quite a surprise for us,” another voice from ahead.

“Ya, well it is a long sto….” as Aaron was about to finish, Bhavesh and Ansh got up and as their eyes fell on Aaron and Ishaan, who were busy explaining the shout.

“Well, well, if it isn't the Banerjees and their Fiances, huh?”

As soon as the words fiancé dropped, the bus went silent, but the silence only lasted for a brief moment.

“WHATTTTTTTTTT!!!!?!!!!!?!!!?!!!!!?!!!?!!”

“ISHAAAAAANNNN!!!! YOU HAVE A FIANCE, SINCE WHEN?”

The bus became an entire battleground of questions.

Ishaan looked at Bhavesh and said, “Thanks, bro, for ruining my beauty sleep”

Bhavesh grinned at Ishaan, “Always Happy to help”

“Well, Izzy, it looks like we are in for a long day,” Aaron subconsciously said.

“Oh my my, a nickname, *smirk* I like it, Ar” Isabella gave an approving smile.

School wasn’t much better.

The bus screeched to a halt in front of St. Augustine’s International, its yellow sides gleaming in the morning sun. The school stood like a white fortress — wide lawns, fluttering flags, and students streaming in like a wave of colour and noise.

As the newcomers stepped out, the crowd shifted — curious eyes, half-whispers, muffled giggles. The girls’ polished poise and easy grace felt almost cinematic against the slightly crumpled chaos of a Delhi morning.

Inside, the corridor buzzed.

“Bro, they really came with you?”
“Are they models or transfer students?”
“Transfer, I think. European or something.”
“Arrey, who cares? They’re stunning!”

Aaron could feel the stares following them — not the kind he used to shrink under, but the kind that strangely didn’t bother him anymore. He was smiling more freely, speaking more lightly. Even Aryan noticed.

“Dude,” Aryan said quietly, slinging an arm around him, “you’re glowing or something. Did Europe give you skincare tips or confidence lessons?”

Aaron laughed. “Neither. Just… I don’t know. Feels good to be back.”

Aryan grinned. “Man, it’s good to have you like this again. Last term, you looked like a tax auditor in therapy.”

Meanwhile, Ishaan had found his own circle near the basketball court — the usual suspects, loud and ridiculous. But even his friends noticed something different.

“Oi, Ishaan! You’re not cracking jokes to fill the air anymore,” teased Dev, shoving him playfully. “You look… actually happy.”

Ishaan smirked. “Maybe because I finally slept before midnight?”

“Or maybe because of someone,” Dev said, glancing toward Estella, who was talking to a teacher.

Ishaan turned red. “Bhaad mein ja,” he muttered under his breath, hiding a grin.

The girls, meanwhile, navigated their introductions — polite smiles, endless questions, the occasional not-so-subtle glare from students sizing them up like rivals.

But between the chaos of schedules and classrooms, something gentle bloomed — a quiet awareness that this was no longer just an exchange trip. It was the beginning of belonging.

At lunch, they all found themselves at the same table — laughing, swapping snacks, Aaron arguing over football, Ishaan making terrible puns, Isabella rolling her eyes, and Estella laughing despite herself.

For the first time since arriving in India, it didn’t feel foreign. It felt like life. But the real life of an indian student was about to start.

As soon as Aaron and Ishaan went home from a welcome party that happened on the bus by the seniors for the welcome of the girls, they went into their room and within minutes changed and were already eating lunch even before the girls got refreshed.

“Why are you guys in such a hurry now?” Isabella was perplexed seeing their quickness

“Ya, like we are done with school and it is not as if you are going there right now, so why rush?” Estella asked as she sat down.

“Oh, because we have to leave in 30 mins for our tuitions and we will return not before 7:30 pm, so enjoy girls”, Aaron said while stuffing rice in his mouth.

“Huh?? But you just got home, dont you need to take some rest to recharge?” Estella asked

“Welcome to India, where school, lunches and tuitions go hand and hand”, Ishaan licking his face clean as he finished eating.

The boys, after eating their lunches, went into their room, took their books, changed one at a time and rushed out for tuitions.

“It seems we might have underestimated how busy life in other countries can be”, Isabella claimed as she saw Aaron off..

“True”, Estella affirmed with her.

As the day went on, the girls, after taking some rest and completing their work they sat down for some afternoon tea around 6:30 pm with Mrs Banerjee.

“Sure is quiet, isn't it, girls?” Mrs Banerjee broke the silence while sipping from her hot cup of tea.

“Yes, sure is, though I am sure once the boys come back, it is going to be quite chaotic”, Isabella said, sipping her tea with royal elegance.

“Oh, dont worry, girls, the boys won't be free before 8:30-9”, Mrs Banerjee said with a tone full of confidence.

“But their tuitions dont they end by 7:30 pm?” Estella asked curiously.

“Oh, it ends at 7, but well, it will be much easier for you to understand it once you see it, so why dont you go and pick those boys up?” Mrs Banerjee suggested with a scheming look.

The evening air was softer now — scented with frying pakoras and the sweetness of wet dust. The street outside buzzed with life again; scooters whizzed by, someone somewhere was playing old Hindi songs on a radio, and children chased a half-deflated football barefoot down the lane.

Isabella adjusted her dupatta, glancing at Estella, “So this is what a quiet evening looks like in India?”

Estella smiled. “If this is quiet, I’m afraid to see rush hour.”

They reached the corner near the tuition centre just as the students began spilling out — laughing, stretching, talking over one another. Ishaan and Aaron appeared soon after, bags slung carelessly, shirts untucked, that familiar post-study exhaustion written all over their faces.

“See?” Estella whispered. “Completely different creatures from this morning.”

Before they could wave, Ishaan was pulled aside by a group of boys shouting, “Oi! Five-a-side, loser treats at Sharma’s stall!”

“Give me two minutes!” Ishaan shouted back, but it was useless — his friends had already shoved a football into his hands.

Aaron just shook his head, grinning. “He’ll be gone for the next forty minutes.”

“And you?” Isabella asked as he started walking toward a small shed beside the field.

“Me?” Aaron lifted the strap of a guitar case from one of his friends. “We’ve got our own ritual. Some of us play. Helps the brain reset after surviving calculus.”

“Wasn’t your tuition supposed to end at seven?” Estella asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It does,” Aaron said, chuckling. “But no one really goes home at seven. This is when Delhi really wakes up.”

As they followed him, Isabella noticed how he relaxed once he sat down on the shed’s old bench. His posture, his face — all the layers of politeness and teasing melted away as his fingers found the strings. The first note hung in the air, warm and familiar, and for a moment, the noise of the street softened around it.

From the field, Ishaan’s laughter echoed, sharp and unrestrained. From the shed, Aaron’s music flowed — gentle, thoughtful, entirely his own.

Estella leaned closer to Isabella and whispered, “They look like they belong to this chaos.”

Isabella nodded slowly, watching Aaron strum. “Maybe that’s what belonging really looks like.”

For all her royal grooming, this was the first time Isabella saw life move with such unplanned grace — messy, loud, and somehow… freeing.

By the time the sky turned indigo and the first stars peeked through, Ishaan came running up, covered in dust and grinning like a child. Aaron was packing up his guitar.

“Told you, Ma was right,” Estella said as they started walking home. “It really does take them till nine.”

“Not our fault,” Ishaan said, panting. “Delhi time runs differently.”

Aaron smiled, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “And honestly, it’s not a bad thing.”

The girls exchanged a look — half exasperation, half admiration. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to understand the rhythm of this place.