" Laut jaati udhar ko bhi nazar, kya kijiye,

Ab bhi dilkash hai tera husn, magar kya kijiye.

Aur bhi dukh hain zamane mein mohabbat ke siwa,

Raahatein aur bhi hain wasl ki raahat ke siwa."

— Faiz Ahmed Faiz

It would not be wrong to say that these lines of Faiz somehow found their destiny in this story.

It was his first class. It was her first class. It was their first class.

He did not know who she was. She did not know who he was. They were complete strangers.

He was her student.

She was his teacher.

Tani was one of the most active students in the class—talkative, funny, frank, and occasionally irritating enough to test everyone's patience. Yet he was the soul of the classroom, the one who could make even the dullest lecture come alive.

Ms. J, on the other hand, was simplicity personified. She minded her own business, dressed casually, and carried herself with effortless humility. She was so young and unassuming that people often mistook her for a student.

"Where is the second-semester class?" she asked.

"Oh, it's over there," Tani replied, pointing toward the room. "Go in. The teacher will be here soon."

A few moments later, he walked into the classroom and stopped in disbelief.

She was the teacher he had been waiting for.

It is difficult to describe what he felt. It was somewhere between love at first sight and an innocent crush—perhaps neither, perhaps both. Whatever it was, it quietly revealed itself in the reflection of his eyes.

She was shy in the beginning. Opening up did not come easily to her, and she struggled to blend in with the lively class. But time has a way of dissolving distance. Slowly, she became one of them.

Her rented room was quite far from the college. Every day she walked the entire distance, exhausted by the climb. She looked fragile—lean and thin—and many of us genuinely worried about her health.

Tani owned a scooty.

Whenever he saw her walking, he would offer her a ride.

Every single time, she politely refused.

This continued for days.

But comfort has its own persuasive power.

One day, she finally accepted.

Tani's happiness knew no bounds. A small dream had quietly come true.

She would walk to college, and he would drop her back home on his scooty. The routine continued for weeks.

No one knew what joy he found in those short rides.

No one knew why she trusted him enough to accept them.

Everyone sensed something, yet no one knew anything.

Only the two of them knew that there was something worth knowing.

We had planned to give her a small party after Ramadan and the examinations. Tani was especially excited. It would mean meeting her one more time during the long break brought by the pandemic.

Just once more.

For the last time.

He wanted to take her to Menga Mandir and tell her everything he had never been able to say.

The last class of the session arrived.

Ms. J entered the classroom in a hurry, but even in that rush she seemed to notice an absence.

She looked around and asked,

"Where is Tani?"

No one answered.

Late that night, she saw his WhatsApp status.

He had gone on a picnic.

For a brief moment, she wished she were there.

She wanted to tell him something—something she had carried silently for a long time.

But something held her back.

Perhaps she was crossing a boundary she should never cross.

After all, some feelings are meant to remain unknown.

She quietly switched off her phone.

A few days later, I received a call from Tani.

"Hey, has something happened?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," I replied.

"Are you sure? Ms. J has left our History WhatsApp group, and her account doesn't exist anymore. Is she angry with us?"

"I don't know," I said. "We had our photoshoot on the last day, and she seemed so happy."

"I have no idea what happened," he sighed. "Jesh and I were at a bar when we noticed she had left the group. Then we realized her account had disappeared too. How are we supposed to contact her now?"

A week later, Tani went to the place where he used to drop her every evening.

He asked the landlord,

"Do you know a lady with long hair who used to teach at our college?"

"Oh, that girl?" the old man replied. "She left without telling anyone. She had already paid three months' rent in advance along with the security deposit. She didn't even come back to collect the extra money. Poor girl. I saw her one evening, and by the next morning she was gone. I still wonder where she went."

Tani dialed her number.

"The number you have dialed does not exist."

Ms. J left, but she left behind countless unanswered questions.

No farewell message.

No explanation.

Not even a simple "Best of luck for your exams."

What happened?

No one knew.

Perhaps only she knew.

Perhaps Tani knew.

The rest of us believed we understood, but in truth we knew nothing at all.

"Wherever you are, Ms. J, you will always remain in our hearts.

We will miss you."

Tani typed the message, knowing it would never reach her.

Far away, in another city, Ms. J looked at the screen one last time.

"I will miss you too," she whispered.

She smiled through moist eyes, let out a quiet sigh,

and gently broke the SIM card.