CHAPTER 3 – REELS AND REALITIES

The vacation had brought about a lot of change. All of them had phones and social media accounts of their own, except Shantanu and Arham. The social media accounts were created, friends tagged and shared.

Inside Class VIII-B, the air was thick with gossip and the smell of new plastic covers on textbooks. Kuki was showing off about her new found social media status.

“Hey listen, My last reel hit ten thousand views!” Kuki announced, voice high with excitement. “Can you believe it? Ten thousand!”

Ishaan leaned over her desk. “You’re practically a celebrity now. I should start charging for appearing in your videos.”

“Sure,” Kuki said, rolling her eyes. “Your face is good for comic relief.”

Everyone laughed. Everyone except Shantanu, who quietly unpacked his books. He didn’t dislike social media — he just didn’t understand how it had suddenly become the centre of their universe. Till a few months ago, during the vacations, they were meeting in person every other evening — cycling down the colony roads, sharing ice cream, or just talking about dreams. Now everyone’s conversations revolved around views, likes, and filters and comments.

He missed Arham badly.

The first period began — English with Mrs. Niharika. The same soft voice, same glasses, same disapproving glance at noisy students.

“Settle down, everyone,” she said, tapping the attendance register. “This year is important. Starting now, every year will decide your foundation for the boards. So become serious now.”

Her words floated over the students like background music. Half the class was busy exchanging glances, half exchanging things under the desk. Shantanu noticed Kuki day dreaming about her future post.

After class, Nidhi muttered, “You know, as it is Kuki doesn’t study, and now she just posts reels with trending audio. It’s sad.”

Kuki heard her. “Excuse me? What’s sad about sharing something creative? Everyone’s doing it. Even you are”.

“I post only about sports, not silly reels”, defended Nidhi.

“Your sports posts are also reels only”, argued Kuki

“But I don’t think this is the right age for it Kuki. We are in class VIII. These social media accounts and all, these are for celebrities. We are just students, and aren’t in legal age group also for this”

“What’s wrong? And what do you mean by legal age? Everyone’s doing it. Who is checking? My parents are ok with it. They are liking the likes and comments that I receive. They are sharing my reels with everyone. What is your problem?” asked Kuki angrily.

“We have our boards in the next two years. I think you are getting distracted with all this”, defended Shantanu.

“And posting reels daily, without any reason. Do you really think people are watching it”?

“Please….hear what you are saying. You both are just jealous”

Shantanu ignored her, raised her hand and gave up, but Nidhi blurt out angrily. “Jealous? What do you mean? Why will I be jealous? I am more popular than you.”

“What popular? Popular for selfish boasting and dictatorship” Kuki countered.

“Stop calling me names and answer me first” Nidhi burst out with tears of anger filling her eyes.

“Answer that for yourself, you so called celebrity. Cry baby always seeking attention”

Kuki turned and went away.

Nidhi turned to Shantanu

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. I feel I don’t even know this version of our Kuki. I think she will realize only after falling down and learning a lesson herself, leave it”.

That was the first sign of visible crack in their friendship.

By lunchtime, the class buzzed with chatter about who had the most followers and whose post was reposted by a micro-influencer. Nidhi was unusually silent. Ishaan sat on the edge of the table, legs swinging, telling a story about how he and Kuki had filmed a “transition video” in the school corridor during the vacations, sneaking inside the empty school.

“They’ll kill you if they find out,” Akshara warned, stirring her cold idli sambar.

“They won’t,” Ishaan said confidently. “We were careful. I edited it last night. It’s already trending on Pune reels.”

Nidhi raised an eyebrow. “You mean you filmed inside school premises and posted it also? You know it’s not allowed”.

“Relax, detective. It’s just fifteen seconds.”

“But it’s still against the rules,” Shantanu said quietly.

“Rules, rules, rules,” Ishaan mocked. “That’s your problem, bro. You think too much, you are too cautious and careful.”

“Prevention is better than cure”

“Don’t try these parenting lectures. One set of parents is enough for this. Let us be, if you can let us be”. Ishaan announced finally.

The group fell silent for a moment. The sound of spoons scraping steel and plastic boxes filled the gap.

That evening, Shantanu scrolled through Instagram at home on his mother’s phone. He didn’t usually check it, but curiosity got the better of him.

There it was — Kuki’s new reel. She and Ishaan danced down the empty school corridor, lip-syncing to a trending Bollywood remix. The video was slick — Kuki looked confident, Ishaan effortlessly cool.

But the comments below weren’t kind.

“Attention seekers.”

“Why are they dancing in uniform? Not cool.”

“Such show-offs.”

Some anonymous account had even tagged the school’s official page.

Shantanu’s stomach tightened. He knew what would happen next.

Next morning, an announcement blared through the speakers:

“Ishaan Khan and Kuki Mehta of Class VIII-B, please report to the Principal’s office immediately.”

The class went silent. Kuki froze. Ishaan tried to look casual, but his fingers trembled.

They left the room under thirty pairs of eyes.

Nidhi whispered, “I told her to delete it…”

Akshara sighed. “This will get bad.”

When they returned half an hour later, Kuki’s eyes were red, and Ishaan’s jaw was set tight. The principal had made them delete the video, write apology letters, and warned of suspension next time. Their parents were informed.

“I told you to delete it”, Shantanu told Ishaan.

“Ya right, Mr. Perfect.”, replied Ishaan angrily.

Ishaan muttered something under his breath and kicked his desk leg. The class moved on, but Shantanu couldn’t. He saw something changing — a distance creeping between the laughter and the trust they used to share.

That night, Shantanu sat by his study table, window open, the smell of rain curling into his room.

He called Arham who was equally missing him in the new environment.

“People are becoming reels of themselves. Perfect, loud, repeatable. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned but I am not liking this social media craze”

“Me too. I just hope better sense prevails in our friends, before something more drastic happens. So many cyber crime news these days. My parents keep a check on their phones as well to be alert”.

“Everyone is just getting addicted to this digital and virtual world. You are the only one I can have some real conversations with”

“Same here. I hope we are not left alone”

“When we are together, we can never be alone”.

A slow smile crossed their face. Outside, thunder rolled across the Pune sky. Inside, a quiet unease began to settle — something invisible, but real.