Stolen Days follows Krishna through college life: uncertainty about his studies, difficult encounters with seniors, friendships, road trips and the first stirrings of love.
Chapter 1: A Beginning I Had Not Chosen
People talk about college as though it is a dream waiting at the end of school. For me, it began with doubt.
I was Krishna: a fairly ordinary middle-class boy with no clear ambition and very little idea of what interested me. Engineering seemed to be the path in front of me, so I took it. The college stood far from the city.
On the first day, the orientation told us all the wonderful things about the institution. By that evening, hostel life showed me something else. Seniors ragged the juniors, treating us like we were worth nothing, kicking and punching us.
For the first week, one question kept returning: why had I joined this course, in this college?
I tried to convince myself that technical education was what I wanted, although I did not enjoy it. In class, I appeared to listen while my mind travelled everywhere else. I could spend an entire lecture imagining things that did not even exist.
If nothing else, the classroom gave my daydreaming plenty of practice.
Then the semester examinations arrived. I filled the pages with whatever knowledge I had gathered and, once they were over, packed my bags for a week at home.
Chapter 2: The Cultural Festival
The college festival changed the mood on campus. Around 6 p.m., music, cheering, songs, dancing and a fashion show brought everyone together.
My friends and I stood on a balcony, adding our voices to the noise. When a senior came on to perform a song, we began mocking him. The seniors in the auditorium were not amused.
The event ended at midnight. Some students went home; the rest headed to the hostel. Sarath, who was a day scholar, went to collect his bike.
That was where the seniors caught him.
Sathish saw what was happening and ran to alert us. When we reached the parking area, Sarath was on the ground, badly beaten.
I kicked one senior in the chest. Manoj punched another with his left hand. Arjun drove his shoulder into a third, forcing him against a wall and striking him again. Don Mahesh picked up a stick and swung it until it broke.
While the fight continued, Varun helped Sarath back to the hostel.
That night deepened the divide between the seniors and us. It also brought our own group closer: Arjun, Don Mahesh, Varun, Karthik, Sathish, Sarath and me.
Chapter 3: A Message, a Trip and a Night at a Bus Stop
During another lecture, Karthik sent a message to our WhatsApp group: could we go on a trip?
The replies came almost immediately. By the end of the period, the plan was settled. We met in the parking area, exchanged thumbs-up signs, packed our bags and started the bikes towards Kerala.
After a long ride, we paused near the hairpin bends to take photographs. At about 8.30 p.m., we reached Valparai and ate at a little roadside shop. The food was inexpensive and delicious.
Don Mahesh managed five dosas and two omelettes, then began helping himself to food from someone else's plate.
We intended to continue through the forest road towards Kerala, but an officer stopped us at the checkpoint. He said night travel was not allowed through that stretch of the Chalakudy forest. His stories about wild animals made the warning feel even more serious.
We decided to wait until morning. For the night, we settled on the small cement roof of a bus stop and parked the bikes around it, imagining they would protect us if elephants appeared.
The cold and the thought of elephants ensured that nobody slept properly. Still, it was an unforgettable night. In our minds, we were sleeping in the middle of the forest.
The next morning, the checkpoint opened to us. After about three hours of riding through the forest, we reached Athirappilly Falls. The sight was magnificent, and the sound filled the air.
We bathed in the upper stretch and added another memory to the trip. It was the kind of experience we would keep talking about long after returning to college.
Chapter 4: Back in the Classroom
The journey followed me into my dreams. I was riding slowly through the forest, enjoying the scenery, when heavy rain began to fall. Then the scene vanished.
Lokesh had splashed water on me.
It was 8.45 a.m. I scrambled to get ready and reached the classroom at 8.59. I took my place on the last bench, which we considered the natural home of smart students.
During the lecture, Arjun and I began arguing about our respective thalaivars and their blockbuster films. The professor eventually lost patience and sent us out.
We were delighted. Now we could continue the debate over tea and samosas.
In the canteen, however, we saw the seniors from the earlier fight. More than ten of them were sitting together.
“What do we do?” Arjun asked.
“Don't look frightened. Just walk normally.”
We ordered two chicken puffs and sat down. Soon the seniors surrounded us. One tall boy grabbed my shirt.
“Take your hand off my shirt. We can talk about it,” I said.
He pulled harder. I was still wondering whether to hit him or prepare to be hit when Don Mahesh kicked him from behind. He fell beside us.
The seniors turned angrily, but 40 or 50 members of our class were now standing behind Mahesh. Manoj let out a relieved breath.
We were fortunate that many seniors were away on project work and other commitments. Eventually, final-year students intervened and helped settle the issue.
Chapter 5: Meera
Semester exams were approaching, and we needed a No Objection Certificate before collecting our hall tickets.
On the way to get the form, someone swept past me like a dark storm. My heart began racing. For a moment, everything in my mind went blank.
Varun pulled me back to reality. “What happened? Come on—the professor may leave.”
We went to the department and collected our hall tickets without trouble. On the way back, I saw the same girl again.
I called out, then found myself too nervous to say anything more. She told me her name was Meera.
I could only smile. I walked away with Varun, but my mind kept repeating her name.
Chapter 6: The Midnight Surprise
It was a wonderful winter night. I had wrapped myself in blankets, shutting out the light and drifting into deep sleep. Rain whispered outside, and the room was dark and cool.
Then someone began hammering on the door.
Half asleep and thoroughly irritated, I got up to find out which monster had decided to visit at midnight. The moment I opened the door, four or five figures pushed their way inside, knocked me down and began hitting me.
I must have done something terrible to them in a previous life, I thought. Then a voice louder than a village-festival loudspeaker broke through the confusion.
“Krishnaaaaa! Happy birthday!”
It was Sarath. I could not decide whether to be happy about the surprise or furious with these crazy fellows.
Varun opened a cake box and set it on the table. Don Mahesh placed a candle on the chocolate cake, which read “Happy Birthday Krishna”. Sathish lifted his DSLR and photographed it from every possible angle, apparently convinced he was Santhosh Sivan.
Arjun told me to cut the cake. As I bent to blow out the candle, Varun pushed my face into it. Everyone sang, laughed and smeared me with whatever they could find. Don Mahesh added egg, tomato sauce and Coca-Cola to the mess. He must have been a monkey in his previous birth.
We did not sleep. Instead, we took the bikes out. Around 1.30 a.m., we stopped at a tea shop.
“Can we go to Ooty for some really good tea?” Sathish asked.
We stared at him.
“Why, da? Have I committed some terrible crime?”
“Machan, these cowards won't come. You and I will go,” Arjun said.
That was enough. Before long, an unplanned journey had become my birthday adventure.
Chapter 7: Tea in Ooty
We began the climb on our Royal Enfields. I was riding a 500 cc bike. The route took us through 15 hairpin bends, wild bushes and stretches of forest canopy. Bird calls, eucalyptus-scented air and a cold breeze surrounded us.
We rode one behind another. My teeth chattered and my whole body shivered, but I held the handlebars and enjoyed the climb. The engines sounded especially loud against the stillness of the forest, while our headlights cut through the dark.
Suddenly, Sathish raised his right hand and asked us to stop. Varun, riding pillion, looked puzzled. I switched to high beam and saw elephants on the road, perhaps 30 metres away.
We turned off the lights, worried about drawing their attention, and hesitated. Should we wait or try to pass? A truck arrived, and we slowly followed it past the animals. Only afterwards did we release the breaths we had been holding.
Another two hours of riding brought us to Ooty. Sathish found a tiny tea shop on the pavement, already busy despite the early hour. I removed my helmet as if I were an ace rider.
“Tea for everyone,” Sarath announced.
The shopkeeper welcomed us. My first sip carried the aroma of cardamom, perfect for that cold morning. It tasted heavenly.
Sarath took a selfie of us smiling with our tea, posted it to Facebook and immediately began looking for likes.
“Mad fellow,” I said.
Then Varun hugged me. “Happy birthday, Krishna.”
My friends had made the day unforgettable. Yet, as we rode back, another thought entered my mind: what would this journey have felt like if Meera had been beside me? The ride ended, but the imagining did not.
Chapter 8: A Meeting in the Rain
After the next semester, everyone went home for the holidays. I decided to remain in the hostel—a decision I soon regretted. Without my friends, the place felt empty.
One rainy day, the loneliness became too much. I put on my rainproof leather jacket, picked up my helmet and walked to the Royal Enfield. The engine answered with its familiar “tup, tup, tup”.
I set off at about 40 km/h, with no destination in mind. It felt better to travel than to arrive. Rain touched my face, and I kept following roads I did not know until I realised I was lost.
I had forgotten my phone.
Worse with a mobile, I thought. Much worse without it.
I stopped near someone trying to kick-start a scooter, intending to ask for directions. The person turned around. It was Meera.
Lightning flashed as our eyes met. Thunder followed, and my heartbeat seemed determined to compete with it.
She remained perfectly calm. “Hey, hi.”
“What happened, Meera?” I asked.
“I've tried so many times, but it won't start. I'm exhausted.”
“Let me help.”
I pulled the choke and kicked the starter. To my enormous relief, the scooter started.
“Oh, thank you! What's your name?”
“Krishna.”
“Thank you again, Krishna.”
Then she left. For a few moments I simply stood there, wondering whether I had imagined it all.
Somehow, I found my way back to the hostel. I replayed those few moments a million times. I cannot remember when I fell asleep that night, but I remember exactly when my heart began looking for her.
In my mind, it was settled: Meera for Krishna, in this lifetime.