Ranga's Daughter

The Stage is Hers
The campus of Srimathi Lakshmi Engineering College buzzed with an energy rarely seen outside exam results or cricket victories. Colorful banners stretched across the front of the auditorium: "SYMPULSE 2K18 Where Ideas Spark Futures." Students rushed about adjusting projectors, arranging flowers, checking sound systems. It wasn’t just another college event. This was the department symposium, and it had to be perfect.
Standing near the stage in a crisp indigo kurti and black palazzos, hair tied back with a simple jasmine-adorned braid, Meenal checked the agenda once more. Her clipboard was filled with scribbles and cue points. Her phone buzzed again with another update from the tech team, but she was calm focused.
“Ready?” Anjali asked, walking up in a sea-green salwar with her usual bubbly energy.
Meenal exhaled deeply. “Yes. Nervous. But excited.”
“You’ve hosted bigger chaos your transition presentation for the gender studies elective had more tension.”
Meenal laughed softly. “That’s true.”
As the clock neared 10 a.m., the crowd in the auditorium began to swell. Students, professors, external judges from other colleges, and seniors poured in. Meenal glanced toward the back, her heart skipping for just a moment.
A girl in a rust-orange saree, with a laptop bag slung on her shoulder, was walking toward a seat reserved for external paper presenters. Tall, elegant, with sharp features and a poised demeanor Vikram’s sister. Meenal recognized her instantly. She was in her final year now, from a nearby college. Her name was Kavya.
Meenal's eyes lingered just a heartbeat longer.
But kavya didn’t glance her way.
She doesn't recognize me.
And why would she? Meenal was no longer the awkward boy who used to silently carry Vikram’s books or run errands for their family out of misplaced love and desperation. That person was gone. Buried and reborn.
Now, she stood with poise, microphone in hand.
The lights dimmed. The screen behind her flickered to life.
And the moment was hers.
“Good morning, everyone!” Meenal’s voice rang clear and warm through the auditorium. “Welcome to SYMPULSE 2K18! I’m Meenal R., your host for the day, and if anyone’s wondering no, the stage is not shaking, it’s just my excitement dancing.”
A ripple of laughter swept through the audience.
She smiled, continued. Her introductions were crisp, her transitions smooth, her humor playful but never overbearing. She teased the sleepy backbenchers gently “The only wave we’ll tolerate today is the sine wave from the signal processing session” and earned cheers when she praised the team behind the scenes.
Throughout the event, students whispered her name.
“That’s Meenal?”
“She’s in third year, right?”
“Her voice is so clear, and her confidence... damn.”
Even a few professors nodded in approval.
In the third row, kavya watched, amused and intrigued. Something about the host seemed... oddly familiar. She tilted her head slightly but didn’t linger on it. For her, it was just another symposium.
For Meenal, it was a quiet victory.
After the final vote of thanks and prize distribution, students surrounded her.
“Meenal akka, selfie please!”
“You should join the drama club!”
“Ma’am, your voice is like All India Radio but fun!”
Meenal smiled graciously, thanked them all, and snuck away to the green room for a breath.
Anjali followed her, a wide grin on her face. “I told you. Rockstar.”
Meenal chuckled, sipping water. “It felt good. Like... for once, people saw me without the shadow of my past.”
“They saw you, Meenal. Just you.”
There was a knock on the door.
A volunteer peeked in. “Senior student kavta wanted to say hi. Said she liked your hosting.”
Meenal froze for just a second but nodded. “Let her in.”
Kavya stepped in, still elegant, with a curious smile. “Hey, that was really impressive. You carried the whole show.”
Meenal smiled politely. “Thank you Akka. That means a lot.”
“I don’t know if we’ve met before… your face feels slightly familiar.”
Meenal shook her head gently. “Maybe in another life Akka.”
Kavya laughed. “Probably. Anyway good job.”
As she left, Meenal exhaled.
Anjali, watching from the corner, caught the subtle shift in Meenal’s expression and asked do you know her, meenal nodded and anjali asked “That was her, wasn’t it?”
Meenal nodded slowly. “Yes. She didn’t recognize me.”
“Do you want her to?”
“No,” Meenal whispered, her voice calm. “That story is closed. This... this is my new chapter.”
Anjali reached out and gently squeezed her hand.
And outside the green room, the echoes of Meenal’s name still danced through the corridors not whispered in shame or curiosity, but spoken in admiration.