It had been one month since my SSB, and today the joining letter finally arrived at our place.Honestly, the moment I saw the envelope, I lost all remaining dignity. I was practically bouncing around the house like a hyperactive child who had been promised ice cream.
I opened the letter carefully.
Okay, not that carefully.
JOINING LETTER
NATIONAL DEFENCE ACADEMY, KHADAKWASLA
I started reading.
Dear Candidate,
Congratulations on being selected for the National Defence Academy, 157th course. Service allotted to you is Army.
Army.
I smiled so wide my cheeks started hurting.
You are required to report to the Adjutant, National Defence Academy on 15 July at the time specified in the Joining Instructions of the Academy..................
Copy to :
National Defence Academy, Khadakwasla
But as my eyes moved further down the page, one line quietly took over my entire brain.
15 July.
That was it.
Everything else blurred.
Two months.
Only two months left.
Two months and I'd be leaving this house.
The noise.
The comfort.
The familiar warmth that had surrounded me for my entire life.
Two months later, everything would be different.
I was still lost somewhere between excitement and that strange, heavy feeling when Baba's voice pulled me back.
"Only two months..." he said, after a pause.
"Shopping karni padegi."
His tone was neutral. Too neutral.
I knew better. Baba was just very good at hiding things.
Before I could respond, Samvid and Shea jumped in together, eyes shining a little too brightly.
"We are also coming," they announced proudly.
"Didibhai will need help."
I shook my head immediately.
These two didn't want to help. They wanted snacks.
Baba laughed softly, clearly aware of their true intentions.
I smiled too.
And then, before anyone could say anything else, I quietly slipped back into my room.
I lay on my bed, scrolling through reels like nothing monumental had just happened.Like my life hadn't just been stamped with a date.
15 July.
I stared at my phone screen, thumb moving automatically.
Excited.
Happy.
Terrified.
All at once.
________________________________________
________________________________________
The cadets' squadrons were buzzing with excitement as the term break crept closer. After months of rigorous training, relentless discipline, and sleep schedules that felt personally offensive, rest was finally within reach. Home. Family. Proper sleep. Food that didn't come with timings.
Even the Echo Squadron-known across the Academy for being one of the toughest and most unforgiving-wasn't immune to the anticipation.
Inside one of the cabins, four cadets were gathered-Rudra, Aarush, Ved, and Shaurya sprawled in various states of exhaustion, discussing their long-awaited plans for the break.
"Iss term break ke baad we'll be entering third term," Shaurya said, leaning back against the bed.
"Ek saal ho jayega academy aaye hue. Ab toh yeh jagah second home lagne lagi hai."
(It's been almost a year since we came to the academy. Now this place has started to feel like a second home.)
Aarush and Ved nodded in agreement.
Rudra, however, stared ahead, jaw set, eyes distant- lost in thoughts only he seemed to be carrying.
Naturally, Aarush noticed.
"Arre Rudra," he drawled, a wicked grin forming,
"itna serious kyun lag raha hai? Kahin apni imaginary girlfriend ke baare mein toh nahi soch raha?"
(Why do you look so serious? You're not thinking about your imaginary girlfriend, are you?)
He clasped his hands dramatically.
"Ki ghar jaate hi ek tight hug, phir bolna-'Jaan, I'm back."
("That as soon as I get home, I'll give a tight hug and then say- 'Jaan, I'm back.")
The room exploded.
Ved laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair. Shaurya had to clutch his stomach.
Rudra's jaw tightened.
"You know," he said calmly, too calmly,
"sometimes I wonder what would happen if I pressed a pillow against your face while you're asleep."
Aarush froze.
"That escalated quickly."
"And for the record," Rudra continued, eyes sharp,
"I have zero interest in love. It's nothing but a distraction. A complete waste of time."
Shaurya snorted.
"Har insaan jisse pyaar hota hai pehle yahi kehta hai."
Ved immediately joined in, mimicking Rudra's tone with exaggerated seriousness.
"Love is a waste of time. Discipline is life."
A warning look from Rudra shut him up instantly.
"Pata nahi," Rudra muttered, running a hand through his hair,
"tum teeno ko maine bachpan se kaise jhel liya. Agar pehle pata hota toh kabhi best friends nahi banata."
("I don't know," Rudra muttered, running a hand through his hair,
"how I've put up with you three since childhood. If I had known earlier, I would never have become best friends with you.")
"Oops," Aarush shrugged happily.
"Too late. Bachpan se ho gaya. No return policy."
Ved, the only one still thinking practically, cleared his throat.
"Jokes aside, next term mein hum first-termers ke overstudy honge. Responsibility kaafi badhne wali hai."
(Jokes aside, next term we'll be the overstudies for the first-termers. Our responsibilities are going to increase a lot.)
Shaurya sighed dramatically.
"Haan yaar. First-termers galti karenge, aur punishment hum bhugtenge."
("Yeah, man. The first-termers will make mistakes, and we'll be the ones to suffer the punishment.")
"Bas koi thoda mature sa mil jaaye," Aarush prayed to the ceiling.
("I just wish I could find someone a little more mature.")
Rudra stayed silent.
His gaze drifted to the window, the parade ground visible in the distance. Third term meant more than just responsibility. It meant leading. Being watched. Being accountable for someone else's mistakes.
For him, discipline wasn't a choice.
It was a duty.
And he hoped quietly, firmly - that whoever was assigned under him would understand that.
The silence in the cabin lingered for a few seconds longer than usual.
Aarush was the first to break it-because of course he was.
"Bas bas," he said, stretching his arms. "Yeh ho gaya Rudra ka daily discipline lecture. Ab koi yeh batao ghar jaake pehla kaam kya karoge?"
("Alright, alright," he said, stretching his arms. "That's Rudra's daily discipline lecture done. Now someone tell me-what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get home?")
"Sleep," Shaurya said instantly. "Proper, guilt-free, alarm-free sleep."
"Same," Ved nodded. "Aur maa ke haath ka khana. Academy ka khana acha hai, but ghar ka khaana different level."
("Same," Ved nodded. "And mom's home-cooked food. Academy food is fine, but home food... that's on a whole different level.")
Aarush grinned. "Main toh pehle din kuch bhi productive nahi karne wala. No routine, no schedule, no running. Bas zinda rehna."
("I'm not doing anything productive on the first day. No routine, no schedule, no running. Just...surviving.")
Rudra finally spoke, voice calm. "Routine chhodne ka matlab yeh nahi hota ki discipline chhod do."
("Dropping the routine doesn't mean you're dropping the discipline.")
All three turned to look at him.
Shaurya raised an eyebrow. "Tu ghar jaake bhi cadet hi rahega kya?"
("Are you gonna stay a cadet even when you're at home?")
Rudra didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his hands- steady, trained, familiar with drills and commands.
"Habits don't switch off," he said simply. "Especially the ones that keep you standing."
Ved nodded slowly. That made sense.
Aarush's gaze swept across his wrist watch indicating it was their time to leave.
"Time," Aarush muttered, getting up reluctantly. "Chalo, bhai sone kal phirse wahi gadho jaisi mehnat karwayenge. Last few days before freedom. Uske baad aaram hi aaram."
("Time," Aarush muttered, getting up reluctantly. "Alright, bro, let's sleep. Tomorrow they'll make us work like idiots again. Just a few more days before freedom... and after that, it's all chill.")
They began gathering their things, boots scraping lightly against the floor.
As they stepped out of the cabin, leaving Rudra alone, he rose from the bed to change but paused by the window. The squadron parade ground stretched beneath the night sky, swallowed in shadows, yet every line of marching cadets, every synchronized call, every echo of order and structure seemed etched into the darkness itself.
Somewhere, soon, new cadets would walk through these gates. Unaware. Unprepared. Carrying dreams bigger than their discipline.
And one of them would be placed under him.
Rudra straightened instinctively, shoulders squaring.
Whoever it was, they would learn.
The Academy didn't bend. And neither did he.
_______________________________________________
_______________________________________________
It had been one month since I received the joining letter.
One entire month gone.
And now, only twenty days remained before my departure.
Somehow, time had slipped through my fingers without asking for permission. Days blurred into each other,countdowns scribbled in my head, dates circled and re-circled, nights spent staring at the ceiling wondering how something I had waited for so long could suddenly feel so close.
Too close.
Today was the day.
Shopping day.
Or, as it was more accurately known in our household- the survival mission.
We were going to buy the necessary items. Or, more specifically, my survival kit.
Of course, I couldn't go alone.
Baba was coming because he was paying.
Maa was coming because she was the selector.
Shea and Samvid were coming because- free vouchers.
We got ready quickly, and as I walked into the living room, I saw all of them already seated together, looking far too prepared for the chaos that awaited us. Chachi and Chacha weren't coming, thankfully. One less unit to manage.
I walked up to Baba and handed him a list.
He looked at the paper.
Then at me.
Then back at the paper.
Like I'd just handed him a prank.
"Sirf ek list hai," Baba said slowly, holding it as if it were property papers.
"Bas yeh cheezein leni hai?"
Disbelief had crept into his voice.
I glanced at the list.
Then at Baba.
Then back at the list.
"Baba," I said carefully, "yeh list nahi hai."
I paused.
"Yeh survival manual hai."
Maa had written it.
Of course she had.
White shirts.
Blue shirts.
Black trousers.
Grey trousers.
Socks (white, black, extra white).
Innerwear (extra, extra, extra).
Towels.
Shoes.
Lock.
Another lock.
One more lock, just in case the first two betray you.
And that was just page one.
Samvid snorted.
"Tabhi main sochu iska ek paper mein kaise aa gaya. Iska survival kit toh Oreo aur Chocopie hai."
I glared at him.
He laughed harder.
As we settled into the car, the backseat drama began almost immediately.
Samvid and Shea were mentally prepared. This was their field trip- snacks, AC, and public entertainment.
The moment we entered the shop, Maa transformed.
From calm homemaker to
Chief Procurement Officer.
"Yeh kapda haath lagao," she ordered.
I touched it.
"Nahi. Isse zyada mota chahiye. NDA mein kapda patla nahi chalta."
I blinked.
Was that written somewhere in the guidelines?
Had I missed a page?
"Yeh shirt lo," the shopkeeper suggested helpfully.
Maa squinted.
"Isme ek wash ke baad lint aa jayega."
The shopkeeper blinked.
How did she know?
Meanwhile, Baba followed us like a tired soldier, arms full of shopping bags, face carrying the quiet regret of a man questioning every life decision he'd ever made.
"Baba, paani," Samvid demanded.
"Baba, chips," Shea added.
"Baba, ice cream," they said together.
Baba sighed deeply.
"Mujhe NDA jaana chahiye tha."
I, on the other hand, was trapped in trial-room hell.
White shirt after white shirt.
"Fit hai?" Maa asked.
"Fit hai," I replied.
"Zyada fit nahi lag raha. Thoda loose hona chahiye."
"Maa, army hai, school uniform nahi."
"Army mein bhi comfort chahiye," she said firmly.
Argument closed.
Shoes were worse.
"Yeh shoes tight hai," I complained.
"Break-in ho jayega," Baba said confidently.
"Mujhe break-in nahi hona," I snapped.
The shopkeeper stood silently, watching our family dynamics unfold like a daily soap episode.
Samvid, meanwhile, had found his calling.
"Didibhai, yeh le lo," he said, holding up the ugliest shoes known to mankind.
"Tu zinda rehna chahta hai ya nahi?" I asked sweetly.
("Do you even want to stay alive?")
Shea was busy collecting free shopping bags like trophies.
"Yeh mere liye."
"Yeh mummy ke liye."
"Yeh kisi aur din ke liye."
("This one's for me."
"This one's for mom."
"And this one... for another day.")
After three hours, ten bags, and one near breakdown in the innerwear section
(we don't talk about that),
we finally reached my survival section.
Food.
I grabbed the trolley and began tossing everything I loved-Oreo cookies, Chocopie, chocolates, chips, and whatever else screamed comfort.
Then came clothes.
Oversized t-shirts.
Shorts.
Tracks.
Jackets.
After all the chaos, we reached the last shop of the day.
The suitcase.
The final boss.
"Hard case ya soft?" Baba asked.
I stared at both.
"This," I said, pointing at the strongest one.
"Jo NDA survive kar le."
Maa nodded approvingly.
When we finally stepped out, I was exhausted. My stomach growled in protest.
Then I saw it.
The panipuri stall.
I turned to Baba with a sheepish smile.
"Baba..."
He looked at me suspiciously.
"Panipuri khani hai."
He sighed, already defeated.
"Chalo."
My eyes lit up like a child.
After the panipuri treat, we settled back into the car.
As it started moving, I felt it.
Not exhaustion.
Reality.
Every bag meant I was leaving.
Every item meant I wouldn't be using it here.
Every purchase was a step away from home.
The car ride back was quiet.
Samvid
and Shea were asleep, snacks finally victorious.
I looked at the bags in the back seat.
Clothes.
Shoes.
Locks.
A future.
Maa reached over and squeezed my hand.
"Darr lag raha hai?" she asked softly.
("Are you scared?")
I nodded.
"Excited bhi."
("Excited too")
She smiled.
"Bas yahi dono saath rehna chahiye."
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
Shopping done.
Now there was no escaping.
NDA was officially waiting.
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