The next morning, Nandanpur awoke under heavy clouds. The skies were restless, gray and low, as if the heavens themselves were uncertain. The monsoon had arrived early.
Ishanvi stood at the hand-pump, filling steel bottles for the day. Her hair was damp, stuck to her forehead from the early drizzle. Behind her, Sunita called from the kitchen window, "Take your raincoats, just in case! The clouds don't look friendly today."
Rajesh stepped out with a small sack of grains slung over his shoulder. "If it pours again, we'll lose another patch of the crop," he muttered to himself, then smiled weakly at Ishanvi. "Stay dry, beta."
In the Sharma home next door, Neha was pinning Meera's raincoat while simultaneously packing bandages in her clinic satchel. "Eat something before you leave!" she said, knowing well there was nothing much to offer. Vikram had already left before sunrise, cycling to the school he taught at, 25 kilometers away.
Abhay handed Vaidehi the umbrella. "Carry it this time. Meera will forget again."
"Bhaiya," Vaidehi said, exasperated. "You act like I'm always the responsible one."
"You are," Aariv mumbled with a grin, ducking as she tried to thwack him.
Across the lane, Ishanvi called out, "Let's go or we'll have to swim to school!"
"Or fly!" Vivaan added, leaping down the stairs, shirt half-tucked.
Scooters buzzed again, tyres slicing through mud as they left home. The forest road was darker today, the sunlight hidden behind thick clouds. Sudarshini River had already begun to swell, its usual clear blue now turned to a deep brown.
Classes began under the buzz of fans and soft thunder. The principal warned everyone about floods and insisted on extra classes for scholarship exam preparation. It was a rare state-level scholarship open to students from Class 5 to 12, held in December — their one chance at changing something for themselves.
In the science lab, Ishanvi helped set up the Bunsen burner for the biology practical. As she leaned to adjust the metal tripod, her fingers brushed the hot stand — and everyone heard the hiss. But she didn't scream. She only blinked, staring at the red mark forming. One girl gasped.
"You okay?" the lab assistant asked.
"Y-Yes, sir," Ishanvi said quickly, hiding her hand behind her back. The burn barely hurt.
By the time the final bell rang, the air was heavy with warning. Leaves swirled in circles across the ground as the first droplets fell. The children ran to their scooters, but the rain hit fast, slamming like fists from the sky. Within seconds, they were soaked.
"This is not drizzle!" Raghav shouted.
"Keep riding!" Abhay ordered, water streaming off his face. Meera clung to his back, trembling. Everyone shivered and groaned, their thin uniforms sticking coldly to their skin.
Everyone, except Abhay.
Ishanvi noticed it through her soaked eyelashes — while the rest of them hunched from the chill, Abhay rode steady, upright, like the storm gave him peace. His hands didn't tremble. His lips didn't turn blue.
Something about that unsettled her. But before she could think more, Vivaan coughed hard behind her.
No raincoat. No food since yesterday's dinner. No heat to dry them when they reached home.
When they finally got back to Nandanpur, it was already ankle-deep in water. The path to their houses was now a slippery stretch of flooded mud. Inside, their mothers hurried to boil water, to dry uniforms over open fire, to rub the children's feet with oil.
"Why didn't you eat anything?" Neha scolded gently.
"There wasn't anything, Ma," Meera whispered.
That evening, the older children sat on the floor of Abhay's small room. The walls leaked. The lamp flickered. Their books were spread out, some pages still damp.
"We'll never make it to the top 100 in this scholarship if we don't start early," Abhay said, flipping through a math book.
"It's six months away," Raghav complained, lying on his back. "We'll start later."
"You want to wait until November and then fail?" Vaidehi raised an eyebrow.
"Starting now gives us a chance," Ishanvi said, voice steady. "Even if we only get selected, there's a training camp, and stipends…"
"…and food," Aariv added quietly.
They all nodded.
"I'll make a study schedule," Vrinda offered.
"And I'll get question papers from bhaiya's school next time," Abhay promised.
Lightning flashed outside.
Inside, their future flickered with more certainty than the kerosene lamp.
No breakfast. No lunch. Clothes soaked and minds tired — but still, their hearts burned quietly, like a coal that refuses to go out.
Ishanvi's fingers no longer throbbed from the burn.
And Abhay, for the first time, felt more at home in a storm than he did under the sun.