On a humid June morning, the three families stood at the Mohanpur bus stand. The red government bus to Lucknow was already half-full. The boys loaded their suitcases — filled with clothes, books, and hidden in the bottom, a few carefully downloaded porn videos on their phones and one old hard drive none of the parents knew about.
As the bus pulled away, Divyansh, Himanshu and Ajay sat together on the back seat. The small town slowly disappeared behind fields of sugarcane and mango orchards.
Himanshu grinned and lowered his voice. “Bhai log… Lucknow mein toh bahut kuch naya dekhne ko milega. New girls. New fantasies. New everything.”
Ajay laughed. “And we’ll still share everything, right? Like always.”
Divyansh looked out at the passing landscape, a small smile on his face. “Everything. Porn. Food. Fantasies. Whatever comes.”
He turned to them, eyes suddenly serious.
“We’re not just friends anymore. We’re something else. Something that doesn’t break.”
Himanshu and Ajay nodded. They knew exactly what he meant.
The bus rumbled on toward Lucknow, carrying three eighteen-year-old boys who had already shared more secrets than most men share in a lifetime — and who were about to discover how far those secrets could take them in a city that didn’t know their names… yet.
The bus finally groaned to a halt at Charbagh bus stand in Lucknow on a blistering June afternoon. The moment the three boys stepped out, the city swallowed them whole — blaring horns, clouds of diesel smoke, sweating crowds, and the thick, humid heat that stuck to their skin like glue. Divyansh, Himanshu and Ajay stood there with their heavy suitcases, eyes wide. This was nothing like quiet Mohanpur.
They had one address in mind: the area around Pioneer Academy and Apex IIT Academy. A broker named Munna Bhaiya (paan-stained teeth, perpetual sweat patches) met them near the gate. “Bhaiya log, aap log serious students ho na? Main best jagah dikhaata hoon.”
What followed was pure exhaustion.
For six straight hours under the merciless sun they hunted. Auto after auto. Ten different buildings. Some “1BHK” were actually tiny rooms with a curtain separating the kitchen. One had a bathroom so dirty they refused to even step inside. Another demanded 14,000 rent for a place that smelled of damp and rat shit. Two places had no proper electricity backup — impossible with the coaching schedule they were about to start. They walked till their feet blistered, bargaining, rejecting, sweating through their shirts. Himanshu kept cursing under his breath. Ajay looked ready to give up. Divyansh stayed calm but even he was losing hope.
At 7:40 pm, when the light was fading, Munna Bhaiya took them to Saket Vihar colony — a decent, middle-class area about fifteen minutes by auto from both school and coaching. Second floor, proper 1BHK. One bedroom, a decent hall, small kitchen, attached bathroom, and a tiny balcony. The owner, a retired army jawan named Thakur saab, looked at their marksheets, asked a few sharp questions about IIT, and finally nodded.
