THE THINGS WE NEVER SAID

The City of Dreams

Mumbai never truly slept.

Even before the sun rose above the Arabian Sea, the city was already alive. Trains thundered across railway tracks, taxis rushed through crowded roads, vendors prepared their stalls, and thousands of people stepped out of their homes carrying dreams that were often larger than the city itself.

For some, Mumbai was a place of survival and for others, it was a place of opportunity.

But for Myra Sen, Mumbai was something more. It was the city where she believed her future was waiting.

Kolkata — A Few Days Earlier

“Myra, your breakfast is getting cold.”

The voice came from downstairs, followed by the faint sound of traditional Bengali music playing from the family’s living room.

Myra stood before her mirror, struggling to close the zipper of her suitcase.

“Coming, Ma!”

Her room looked like a battlefield of clothes, books, documents, skincare products, and things she had suddenly decided were essential for university life.

She glanced at the admission letter lying on her desk.

St. Aurelius University, Mumbai.

One of the most prestigious private universities in the country, known for its academic excellence, influential alumni, international collaborations, and highly competitive management programs.

Her dream college.

The place she had spent years imagining herself attending.

Myra picked up the admission letter and smiled faintly.

She had wanted to study in Mumbai for as long as she could remember. Not because she disliked Kolkata, but because she wanted to experience something beyond the familiar lanes, family gatherings, inherited expectations, and the comfort of a life already designed for her.

She wanted to build something of her own.

An identity that was not connected to her surname.

A future that she could claim without anyone saying it had been handed to her.

“Myra!” her mother called again.

“I’m coming!”

She gave her reflection one final look before leaving the room.

The Sen Family

The Sen family belonged to one of Kolkata’s prominent Bengali heritage families.

Their name was respected in business circles, cultural institutions, and social communities. Their wealth had been built over generations through carefully managed businesses, investments, and ancestral properties. But unlike many wealthy families, the Sens never believed in displaying their money.

Their home in South Kolkata was elegant but understated a restored ancestral house with tall windows, wooden furniture, old family photographs, bookshelves, and a courtyard filled with Tulsi plants and flowering trees.

The house carried the fragrance of sandalwood, freshly prepared Luchi’s, incense, and tradition.

Durga Puja (Bengali Festival) was celebrated with devotion rather than extravagance.

Poila Boishakh (Bengali New Year) brought family lunches, new clothes, and blessings from elders.

Rabindra Sangeet played during quiet evenings, and no important family decision was made without everyone gathering around the dining table.

The Sens were wealthy, but they simply did not feel the need to prove it.

“Myra, sit down,” her mother said as she entered the dining room. “You haven’t eaten properly since yesterday.”

“I’m not hungry, Ma.”

“That is what you said last night.”

Her father lowered the newspaper and looked at her over his glasses.

“Your train is in the evening. You have plenty of time.”

“I know, Baba.”

“Then sit.”

Myra sighed dramatically but took her seat.

Her mother immediately placed another serving of luchi and aloo dum on her plate.

“Ma, I can serve myself.”

“I know. But if I let you serve yourself, you will eat two bites and call it breakfast.”

Her father smiled.

“Your mother is right.”

“Both of you are impossible.”

“And yet,” her father replied calmly, “you will miss us within a week.”

Myra opened her mouth to argue but stopped.

Because he was probably right.

She loved her family.

She loved the familiar warmth of their home, her mother’s constant concern, her father’s quiet wisdom, and the traditions that had shaped her childhood.

But love did not mean she wanted to remain inside the same boundaries forever.

Her father folded the newspaper.

“Are you nervous?”

Myra looked down at her plate.

“A little.”

“About the university?”

“About everything.”

Her mother reached across the table and touched her hand.

“You have worked hard for this.”

“I know.”

“You earned your place there,” her father added. “Never allow anyone to make you feel otherwise.”

Myra looked at him.

His words settled somewhere deep inside her.

That was the one thing her family had always given her—freedom without abandoning guidance.

They wanted her to respect tradition, but never at the cost of her individuality.

“Just remember,” her mother said softly, “wherever you go, you carry the Sen values with you.”

Myra smiled.

“Simple living, respect, family, and too much food?”

“Exactly.”

Her father chuckled.

“And call us every day.”

“Every day?”

“Every day.”

“Baba, I’m going to Mumbai, not disappearing from the planet.”

Her mother exchanged a look with her father.

Neither of them looked entirely convinced.

St. Aurelius University, Mumbai

Located in the heart of Powai, Mumbai, St. Aurelius University stood on a sprawling campus surrounded by greenery, modern academic blocks, residential towers, sports facilities, and carefully landscaped gardens.

The university was known for its prestigious management, law, media, and technology programs.

Its glass-fronted buildings reflected the sunlight, while older stone structures gave the campus a sense of permanence and tradition.

The university had an impressive reputation.

Its students came from influential business families, political households, academic backgrounds, artistic communities, and ordinary middle-class homes where parents had saved for years to provide their children with better opportunities.

There were students who arrived in luxury cars and students who travelled by local trains.

Some wore expensive watches, others counted every rupee before buying coffee.

But inside the classrooms, everyone was expected to compete on the same ground.

At least, that was what the university brochure promised.

The campus was always alive.

The central courtyard was filled with students rushing toward lectures, discussing assignments, sharing gossip, or sitting beneath trees with laptops balanced on their knees.

The library remained open late into the evening for ambitious students and desperate procrastinators alike.

The canteen was famous for its overpriced coffee, spicy sandwiches, loud arguments, and couples who occupied the same table for hours while pretending to study.

The auditorium hosted debates, theatre productions, cultural festivals, guest lectures, and competitions that attracted attention from universities across the city.

Every corner of St. Aurelius carried a different story.

Some students came to find success.

Some came to escape their families.

Some came to make lifelong friends.

Some came looking for love.

And some came determined to leave behind a name of their own.

Myra Sen belonged to the last category.

Myra’s First Day

The moment Myra stepped through the university gates, she felt something shift inside her.

She stopped briefly, her eyes moving across the enormous campus.

Students walked past her in groups, laughing and talking. A few hurried toward orientation halls, while others stood near the notice boards checking classroom allocations.

Somewhere in the distance, music played from the student activity centre.

The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, coffee, and the humid warmth of Mumbai.

Myra tightened her grip around her bag.

“So, this is it,” she whispered.

For years, she had pictured this exact moment.

She had imagined entering this university with confidence, meeting new people, attending lectures, participating in competitions, and eventually stepping into the professional world with something meaningful to offer.

She did not want to be remembered merely as a Sen.

She wanted to be remembered as Myra Sen.

A girl who had earned her place.

A woman who had built her own future.

She took a deep breath and walked forward.

The city outside was unfamiliar.

The university ahead was overwhelming.

But for the first time in her life, the uncertainty felt exciting rather than frightening.

She had come to Mumbai to chase her dream.

And she intended to make the most of it.