MY CRAZIEST ADVENTURE

"Veer," Mr. Raghav began, pinching the bridge of his nose as though Veer's mere existence was causing him physical pain. His eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting back a grimace. "What you just did... was not singing. It was... something else entirely."

The class held its breath, waiting for the inevitable cutting remark. Veer sat still, his face burning as he stared down at the music sheet in front of him, wishing he could disappear into the floor.

Mr. Raghav paced the room, his voice rising theatrically, arms gesturing like a tortured maestro in the middle of a disaster. "You, my dear boy, have managed to create a sound that defies classification. It's... revolutionary in its wrongness!"

A wave of laughter rippled through the classroom, but there was no malice behind it—just the usual reaction to Mr. Raghav's dramatic flair. Veer tried to smile, but the sting of his poor performance still lingered.

Mr. Raghav continued, standing tall, his back to the piano, hands clasped behind him like a general surveying a battlefield. "If music were a painting, Veer, yours would be... abstract. If it were food, yours would give one indigestion."

More laughter echoed through the room, but this time, Veer couldn't help but chuckle too. He knew he wasn't good at singing. Hell, he knew he was *bad*. But Mr. Raghav's theatrical takedown somehow made it bearable, almost funny, in a way only this eccentric teacher could make it.

Finally, Mr. Raghav approached Veer, placing a hand on his shoulder in mock solemnity. "But take heart, my boy. Every masterpiece begins with a mistake. Even the most beautiful symphony starts with a single, off-key note. Unfortunately, you've given me an entire concerto of off-key notes today." 

The class laughed louder this time, and even Veer couldn't resist a smile. Mr. Raghav's criticism, though stinging, was always layered with an odd kind of encouragement. Somewhere beneath his biting remarks, there was a strange, almost twisted optimism.

"I expect better next time," Mr. Raghav said, stepping back and pointing dramatically to the ceiling as if proclaiming a prophecy. "Now, rest those vocal cords—you'll need them for the next round of humiliation."

The class erupted in applause as Mr. Raghav finally moved on to the next student. Veer exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body, though the embarrassment still lingered. He knew he had a long way to go in music, but at least he hadn't been completely destroyed.

---

**Earlier That Day…**

It had all started as soon as Veer walked into the music room. Mr. Raghav, in his usual grand manner, had taken center stage, launching into an impassioned speech about the sacredness of music. He had described the voice as the most delicate instrument, capable of moving mountains—or, in the wrong hands, capable of shattering them. 

Veer, knowing full well he wasn't born with the talent of a singer, had tried to shrink into his chair, hoping he could just coast through the class unnoticed. But of course, fate—and Mr. Raghav—had other plans. 

The teacher's piercing gaze had landed on him, and in a theatrical voice, he'd called Veer up to sing, much to the amusement of the other students. Veer's throat had gone dry instantly. He knew he was in for a rough ride, but there was no getting out of it now.

When he sang, the result was... disastrous. The notes seemed to collide with each other mid-air, producing a sound that was neither music nor noise, just a confused jumble. The room had gone silent—too silent—as Veer's attempt at singing echoed in the air. 

Mr. Raghav's reaction had been swift, pulling no punches but laced with his usual over-the-top drama. He'd ridiculed Veer's voice like a comedian at a roast, but the remarks, though biting, weren't entirely without heart. Mr. Raghav was as eccentric as they came, but there was always that flicker of encouragement buried beneath the laughter.

"Perhaps, Veer," Mr. Raghav had said with a grin, "you should consider a different path—maybe acting. After all, you've given us quite the performance today."

The class had laughed, and even Veer had managed to smile through his humiliation. He wasn't a singer—that much was clear. But at least he had survived his first day in Mr. Raghav's class without completely falling apart.

As the lesson progressed and Mr. Raghav shifted his attention to other students, Veer settled back into his seat, relieved to have the spotlight off him for the time being. But the day wasn't over yet, and the echoes of Mr. Raghav's remarks would follow him for the rest of it.

.................

"I guess becoming famous through singing is gonna be put on hold... hah," Veer muttered dramatically, standing just outside the classroom. One hand clutched his chest like a tragic hero, the other leaned against the wall for support. To any passerby, it looked like he was experiencing the heartbreak of a lifetime. A few students walking by burst out laughing, clearly entertained by his overly dramatic performance.

"Why am I the unlucky transmigrant?" Veer continued, ignoring the laughter. "Shadow, these insults remind me of you, my loyal butler. I wish you were here to console me in my time of need."

A couple of girls passing by giggled even harder, whispering to each other about the spectacle he was making. Veer sighed dramatically, straightening up. 

"Fine, forget it... I guess my path to fame and fortune through singing is officially closed. Time for Plan B—sell my genius songs to actual singers." He tapped his chin, smirking as an idea formed in his mind. "Hmm... yes, that's a good plan. Maybe I'll discover the next Arijit Singh! Imagine it... Veer, the music mogul."

His imagination took off, and soon he was picturing himself lounging in a plush office, signing contracts with top singers, his name in lights as the genius behind their hits. "Ah, the life of luxury," he mused, puffing out his chest, feeling rich and famous already.

But reality struck as the bell rang, dragging him out of his daydream. He jogged off to the next class: P.T. (Physical Training). It was one of those rare times where several classes were combined on the field, and today, the teacher was briefing them about the upcoming annual competition—a massive event in the school, almost as dramatic as Veer's own life.

As Veer approached the field, he immediately noticed the distinct groups forming. On one side, the rich kids were huddled together, showing off their fancy gear and talking about their latest vacations. On the other side were the star kids, effortlessly cool, radiating that natural celebrity aura. Taimur Ali Khan, of course, was at the center, casually exuding star power.

"Don't tell me this is going to turn into *Student of the Year*," Veer muttered under his breath, already sensing the tension between the groups. Meanwhile, the P.T. teacher rambled on about the importance of the competition, sounding like he was prepping them for the Olympics.

Veer tuned out most of it until something caught his attention. Voices were getting louder. Over by the rich kids, Jeet stood at the front, glaring at Aryan Khan from the star kids' group. The air between them was thick with tension.

"Hah... I see. It's rich kids vs. star kids. I swear, yesterday they were best buddies. Guess ego and envy hit harder than friendship," Veer chuckled, watching the drama unfold like a scene from a movie.

Things escalated fast. Jeet stepped closer to Aryan, pointing angrily. "Just because your dad's a superstar doesn't mean you own this place! Maybe I should've taught you a lesson yesterday."

Aryan raised an eyebrow, looking more amused than threatened. "And just because your dad owns a company doesn't mean you can talk down to me. About yesterday, feel free to try now. Let's see who's in need of a lesson."

Veer sighed, knowing exactly where this was heading. He tried to ignore it, staying out of their ego clash, but it was hard to look away.

Jeet took another step forward, his voice sharp. "You think you're better than us just because of who your dad is? Guess what, Aryan? People here actually worked hard for what they have. Not everyone's had life handed to them on a silver platter."

Aryan, still unbothered, replied coolly. "And you think because your dad has money, you know anything about real hard work?"

Veer groaned internally. *This is so pointless. Both of them probably got more pocket money last month than I've seen in my entire past life.* He turned his back, pretending to be interested in the clouds, hoping the argument would blow over.

No such luck.

"Hey, Veer!" Jeet suddenly called out, cutting through the tension like a siren. "Why don't you tell Aryan what it's like to live without being spoon-fed everything?"

Veer cursed his bad luck. *Really? I was just trying to stay out of this!* He turned, forcing a smile, and walked over, mentally preparing for the headache. 

"Uh, listen, this isn't really my—" Veer began, but Jeet wasn't letting him off.

"Come on, man! Back me up here. You're not one of those spoiled star kids, right? You know what it's like to actually work for what you want."

Aryan crossed his arms, smirking. "Let's hear it, Veer. You gonna side with them?"

Veer sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, okay. You want to know what I think?"

Both groups fell silent, eagerly waiting for Veer's words.

"I think... Jeet's right. Rich kids do need to beg for their pocket money like overly dramatic actors, groveling in front of their dads. Meanwhile, star kids have to deal with criticism from people like Jeet, even when they've done nothing wrong." 

At first, Jeet looked thrilled, but as Veer kept talking, his face fell. Aryan chuckled, clearly enjoying the burn.

"See?" Aryan said, amused. "Veer gets it."

Jeet glared, but before he could respond, Veer quickly raised his hands. "Look, man, I'm not taking sides. We're all in school here, not a Bollywood set. Can we just... not?"

Aryan snorted. "Well, I think it's obvious who won this argument."

Jeet, furious, stormed off with his posse, muttering under his breath. Aryan, still chuckling, gave Veer a pat on the back.

"Thanks for stepping in. Jeet's always trying to start something."

Veer shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Just remember, I'll take that thank you in the form of a meeting with your dad."

Aryan grinned. "Sure, I'll arrange something."

As Veer watched Aryan walk away, he shook his head. *This school's too much like a movie. Now all I need is a dramatic soundtrack... and maybe a heroine. Where's my slow-motion entrance scene when I need one?*