Janapriya — The question was for a ROOM, The answer was SISTERHOOD!

The department was silent. Not the kind of silence that invites peace, but the kind that presses down on your shoulders and makes you long for something familiar—something warm. Only Nivetha and I remained in that still air, the slow hum of the ceiling fan trying to fill the emptiness between us.

By noon, I slipped away.

New place. New campus. New air to breathe.

I walked slowly toward the hostel, letting my eyes linger on the trees that arched above the path. The soft rustle of their leaves carried me back to my undergraduate days in Trichy—those long corridors, dusty sunlight, the laughter of roommates, the scent of library books. Back then, even loneliness had company. Here, it was just me.

Once I reached my room in Kurinji Block, I collapsed onto the messy bed. No energy to tidy it, no urge to sit straight. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling fan as if it could spin answers out of thin air. What’s next? I kept asking myself. This wasn’t just a new chapter—it felt like a different book altogether.

By 1:15 PM, my stomach decided it was time for answers I could chew. I grabbed my cozy plate and tumbler, my most loyal companions in this unknown land, and stepped out of my room.

That’s when I saw them.

Three girls and a woman walking toward me, their eyes scanning the walls, their footsteps unsure.

“Where is Thamarai Hostel?” one of them asked.

I blinked. Thamarai? I didn’t even know if the hostel had a map. All I knew was that I lived in Kurinji Block—and I was quite certain this wasn’t Thamarai.

“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed and smiling, “I don’t know where it is exactly, but this is definitely not Thamarai.”

The woman, gentle, curious, was the mother of one of the girls.

Janaaaaa👯

Her daughter stood out like a monsoon in summer.

Janapriya💃.

A name I didn’t know then. A presence I couldn’t forget later.

She looked traditional, elegant in a way that didn’t try too hard. Skin that glowed in the afternoon light, hair long and black like a story unfolding, and eyes so fierce they could slice through noise. Her voice? Sharp as a knife, but not unkind. It had authority, clarity, a certainty I was still searching for in myself.

They asked me about the hostel, how the food was, whether friends were easy to make, how the place felt. I answered in pieces, still unsure of the taste of belonging here.

They smiled, said goodbye, and walked away, their laughter trailing behind them as they disappeared into the unknown corridors of the campus.

I watched them go.

And I didn’t know then, how could I?, that this girl, Janapriya, would soon carve out a space in my life larger than most. That our paths had only just crossed, and yet they were already beginning to weave together.

Some meetings don’t come with fireworks. They come quietly, asking for directions, and end up finding a home in your heart instead.