I thought I could finally get some peaceful reading time with The Kane Chronicles. Rick Riordan had me hooked again—with Carter and Sadie diving deep into Egyptian mythology, discovering ancient magic, and uncovering secrets that seemed to lurk in plain sight. I was just beginning to immerse myself in that world, half-wondering if some forgotten Egyptian god had left a cryptic sign in our school's library or slipped past the warden unnoticed, when—
"Perfect! You're not sleeping," Pavani declared, plopping down on the edge of my bed. "I'll come to you first."
I sighed and held up my book dramatically. "Do I look like I'm free? I was literally about to mentally travel to the Duat."
"I'm not starting anything now," I added, placing a bookmark and closing it. "Just because I'm not part of the dance team doesn't mean I volunteered as tribute."
"Unfortunately," said Sree Lekha, who had just come out of the washroom, towel on her head. "We should've pulled you in somehow."
"Thank God I escaped," I said, mock-praying. "One week of intense dance rehearsals, cramps, last-minute choreography, and the pressure of coordination. No, thank you."
"But you were practically at every rehearsal," Prerna pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"That's because I enjoy music and dance," I said, grinning. "Not out of compulsion. I love the vibe, not the deadline."
"Same difference!" Mahathi joined in, arms crossed, clearly not buying my explanation.
"Still," I said, stretching, "no official team duty. I call that a win."
Sashtika, who had just entered with her usual dramatic flair, clapped her hands once. "Okay, girls! Enough talking. Go take your baths. It's almost three."
"Command received," Pavani saluted with a laugh.
The room erupted into motion. Beds creaked, buckets clanged, taps started running. Towels were grabbed, toiletries fished out of cupboards, and slippers shuffled across the floor in all directions. The calm moment I was hoping for had officially ended. The dorm transformed from a sleepy cocoon into a full-blown getting-ready warzone. Girls were comparing lipstick shades, arguing over who would get the mirror next, and double-checking if the clothes are ready.
And me? I carefully slid my book back into my cupboard, letting Carter and Sadie wait just a bit longer. There was no space for ancient mysteries now—only the chaos of makeup, mirrors, and mirror work duppattas.
But even as I grumbled, deep down, I was smiling. There was something magical about the energy in the air. We weren't just getting ready for a school event—we were preparing for a memory in the making.
First to reach me was Sree Lekha—not Pavani, as expected—because she had already finished her bath and was fresh and glowing in a beige Anarkali. Jai Harini sat down with her, and Prerna started gently working through her long hair. I took over the makeup section, carefully dabbing and blending as she smiled nervously at her reflection.
She looked elegant already. Her beige anarkali had delicate threadwork that shimmered softly under the tube light. As soon as her hair was done and I finished applying a soft kohl liner, she almost didn't look like the same Sree Lekha who yelled at people for wasting water in the dorm bathroom queue.
Soon, the rest of the girls trickled in—fresh from their baths, excitement written all over their faces. Pavani, Mahathi, and Sashtika all pitched in. Prerna and I took charge of hair, while Mahathi expertly handled the makeup station. It was chaotic, yes, but a happy kind of chaos—brushes, bobby pins, compacts, and earrings flying around like they had a mind of their own.
One by one, the girls transformed. Pavani wore a sandal Anarkali with a bright pink dupatta, Mahathi had somehow pulled off the layering with a pink dupatta and the tiny mirror work, and Prerna looked sharp in her pink and sandal combo lehenga. The plan we had made days ago about outfit coordination and styling was finally coming to life. The dorm now smelled of compact powder, kajal, and Parachute oil—and echoed with laughter, teasing, and the occasional "Who took my lip gloss?!"
When all the girls were finally ready, only three of us were left—Jai Harini, Sashtika, and me.
Harini chose a sky-blue kurti with white embroidery—simple and elegant—and Sashtika pulled out her lavender chikankari kurta, looking effortlessly graceful. Meanwhile, I walked to my cupboard, opened the cloth shelf, and pulled out the outfit—my red half saree, the one I had worked so hard on, with the hand-embroidered dupatta now dried and ironed to perfection.
Harini gave me a suspicious glance. "You're not planning a surprise entry, are you?"
"No way!" I laughed, holding up my hands. "Everyone's dressed up. If I dress up too, I won't be the odd one out—that's all."
"But are you comfortable in a half saree?" she asked, genuinely worried. "Every time I wear one, I feel like it's going to fall off. I only wear them when my mom forces me on festival days."
I smiled as I unfolded the fabric. "You have to carry it from the inside," I said gently. "This isn't just cloth—it's tradition. Just because jeans and T-shirts are easy doesn't mean we should give up on wearing our traditional clothes."
Prerna joined in, teasing, "But you're the one who just said you didn't want to look odd."
"Exactly," Pavani added. "Hardly anyone wears traditional dress unless it's a temple visit, mood swing, or a wedding."
I didn't deny it. "That's why I wear them whenever I can. Voluntarily. You can't tell me you don't feel at least a little magical when you wear something traditional. The way you automatically sit straighter, walk more carefully… even your smile softens without trying."
Mahathi gave a dreamy nod. "I won't deny that."
"Good," I grinned. "So girls… help me become a princess!"
That was it. The energy in the room shifted instantly.
All of them swarmed around me with such enthusiasm, I couldn't stop laughing. Prerna was fixing my hair while Harini was pinning the dupatta in place. Mahathi handled my kajal and lipstick like a makeup artist on a mission. Pavani went through her box and found matching jhumkas, while Sree Lekha handed me a beautiful layered necklace. Someone even shouted, "Does anyone have a hip chain?" and to our surprise, someone did.
"Oh wait!" I said, "I have anklets in my pouch!" And just like that, I was all set.
What started as just an idea to dress up a little had turned into a full glam makeover—half saree, jhumkas, bangles, necklace, hip chain, anklets, and even a pair of embroidered juttis that matched the golden borders perfectly.
I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the girl who looked back at me. Not because she was transformed, but because she was glowing.
"Wow," I whispered. "Now I'm really happy we started this."
There was a hush among the girls as they admired the look.
"It feels like a perfect, auspicious start," I said quietly, adjusting the drape one last time. "For the magazine. For everything."
And somewhere inside, I knew it wasn't just about dressing up. It was about stepping into something bigger than ourselves. Tradition, celebration, expression. A moment we'd remember years later and smile.