We, the commerce students, are catching side glances from just about everyone. Our dresses swishing colourfully, breaking the on-brand banality of the school uniform. After the morning assembly in the auditorium, commerce students move to the school grounds where the fest is about to go down. Even though participation isn't compulsory, many students are setting up stalls of food, games, and bric-a-brac to sell. It's a nice opportunity to sell my dresses that I am disheartened to let go of.

Honestly, I wish I hadn't gotten so caught up in harvesting money for the fee and had focused on this opportunity instead. I could've set up my own stall, sold them at a decent markup. Without the dealer taking his hefty 60% cut, I could've actually saved a ton. But I am saved from overthinking when I realize that I don't have a second to spare on what ifs.

I move fast, definitely faster than the garden décor crew, who seem to be moving in slow motion. But at least the caterers have arrived, and the stage decorators are already ahead, installing a large thrust stage and working with the lighting crew to fix the lights. It's wild how things have flipped. We've got a fat hour before the fest officially starts, and with everything—except the decorations—finally coming together, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I spot some 11th graders by the archway, crafting a beautiful welcome rangoli that's taking shape at the entrance.

I pitch in with the décor, fixing patchwork umbrellas to the columns separating each stall. I grab a couple of umbrellas and head to Gargi's bakery stall. Climbing the stepladder, I fasten one of the umbrellas to the column with a cable tie. It looks beautiful—a place worthy of Pinterest, as Gargi likes to chime in every time she spots something picturesque and aesthetic.

I snip the cable tie with a pair of scissors, but as I do so, the ladder wobbles. A strong gust of wind makes it tremble. I hold onto the ladder for support, but my hairpin falls out, sending my hair whooshing all around me. I close my eyes, bracing myself for a fall, but the ladder steadies. I look down to find Arjun holding it at the base, gazing up at me with concern. I smile at him, swiping my hair out of my face with one hand.

'Thanks,' I laugh, electrified, 'you saved my life.'

'Knight in shining armour at your service!' he beams up at me, a pair of sunglasses perched on his head.

I can't help but laugh at his over-the-top declaration. 'Oh please, more like a knight in juttis and sunglasses.' I notice him wearing a sleek black pathani suit, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan arms.

He chuckles, still holding onto the ladder. 'Hey, don't knock the juttis! They've seen me through some heroic rescues.'

'Oh, I'm sure they have.' I tease, tying the last cable to this side of the column. 'A true hero would've caught my falling hairpin mid-air, you know.'

He pretends to gasp in shock. 'You wound me! I was getting ready to catch you if you fell.'

I step down from the ladder, and he lets go, but not before giving a mock bow. 'Always the hero, huh?' I say, brushing a few stray strands of hair from my face.

He grins wider. 'Can't take any chances with you.'

A young blush creeps up my face and neck as I avert my gaze from him, acutely aware of his eyes on me. My attention drifts to a figure observing us intently from the stage area. It's difficult to decipher whether Romil is truly looking at us or merely hiding behind the shades he and his friend Shlok are wearing. But when I catch him glancing in our direction, his expression sharpens, and he quickly diverts his gaze elsewhere.

'I should probably...' I gesture to the unfinished decorations.

'Yeah, me too,' he says, but doesn't move.

I am gratified when Gargi steals Arjun away to her stall; the atmosphere had become increasingly stuffy, and I welcome the change.

*****

The fest opens with a country song played by Romil on guitar, Mayur from our class on drums, Shlok's younger brother, Shreyas from tenth standard on western percussion, and Rupal on the mic. She has a slow, deep, and dragging sort of voice, which is soporific in nature. She is good but she lacks the dynamism, and I don't think she fits with the group as much as Sakshi did.

The act serves as a prelude to two vibrant dance performances and a ten-minute skit. As the last round of applause dies down, Romil takes command, guiding everyone to their seats for the most anticipated event in the school's history—Shark Tank, RSVP (Ratan Singh Vidya Peeth).

He swiftly introduces the jury panel: Mr. Raman Singh, the school's dean; Mrs. Chhaya Birla, one of the school's trustee; Mr. Dilip Dayal, the principal; and Mrs. Kalpana Bakolia, the head of the department. Once he presents the panel, he states, 'Today, they're not just faculty—they are Sharks, ready to weigh in on the contestants' every idea and proposal.'

With the rules and format laid out clearly, Romil invites the first group to present their products, signalling the DOP to do his magic. The curtains are pulled from both sides, and the Shark Tank soundtrack fills the air when three girls from 11th-grade commerce walk on stage, smiling their professional smiles.

'Good morning, Sharks. I am Sana Khan from class 11 Arts, and these are my classmates, Hitansh Mehra and Lavanya Sen. We're presenting EcoWrite, a sustainable stationery kit designed for students. Our kit includes biodegradable pens, recycled notebooks, and plantable pencils...'

I am called by the waiter serving refreshments and drinks.

'What happened?' I ask him, but he points to the place in the garden further away from the stage.

It's a person arguing with a teary-eyed, petrified looking female waiter. I walk up to them and come face to face with Vatsal, who has ketchup on his shoes. I bite my lip. Something about this is screaming confrontation, and the adrenaline in me is already spiking fight-or-flight is taking over. When he notices me, however, he stops arguing, though his anger still simmers beneath the surface. He is wearing glasses like the rest of his friends, so I have no idea if he's looking at me or the waiter beside me with that scary-looking face.

I ask the girl to leave and turn to him, fingers crossed. 'What's the problem, Vatsal?'

He exhales sharply. 'Nothing.'

'Would it kill you to be a little tolerant?' I say, slightly emboldened by his "nothing," and hand him the tissues when the waiter who pointed me to the scene brings them hurriedly.

'I told you, Maithili, it's nothing.' His tone is seething, but he compensates with a snarl of a smile, as if he is controlling himself. 'You don't have to bother.'

With this, he leaves the grounds.

I breathe out, calming my accelerated nerves. The fugg his problem is?

I am trying to find Sakshi, but she's nowhere in sight. In fact, the last time I saw her was in the washroom earlier. I am walking towards the auditorium when a huge round of applause from the audience distracts me, and I glance at the stage. What I see next stops me in my tracks and makes me feel as if I've just been plunged into icy cold water. Sakshi is on the stage with Jigar, her younger brother, and Kirti, Jigar's classmate and the ninth-grade Class Representative I saw at the thrift store. They have pulled off a performance where girls are dancing to the song Tamma Tamma as they showcase the clothes I have refashioned.

My eyes dart around from a structured co-ord set I repurposed from a lazy tunic suit to my favourite work of all time: embroidered plain crop tees with big and small daisy patchwork just at the back of it. My heart is thrumming in my chest and my ears are growing hotter by the second. I am numb, unable to think, just watching their pitch unfold like a brainless creature.

'Good afternoon, Sharks!' Sakshi is beaming at the panel. 'I'm Sakshi Maheshwari from 12th commerce, and today, I'm here to introduce you to Mai, an upcycled fashion brand, dedicated to making style affordable, sustainable, and trend-forward.'

When she says Mai, I snap out of my daze. She's doing it for me, I tell myself.

The Sharks nod, intrigued, as she continues. 'We take export rejects—clothes that didn't make it to the market due to minor imperfections—and we upcycle them to follow the latest trends. Each piece is carefully curated, repaired, and redesigned, turning what would have been waste into fashionable, one-of-a-kind garments.'

Sakshi gestures toward the podium, where models step into the spotlight, showcasing the outfits. My breath hitches, and I unconsciously step closer to the stage. 'Take a look at our top-selling product, which we sell at a local thrift store at the moment. We've taken these ribbed tees,' a girl modelling the embroidered tee walks onto the stage, hands on her waist, striking a pose with her hips jutting out as she turns with a dramatic flourish, 'repaired them, and embroidered our signature daisy on them.'

'So, this daisy is your logo?' Dilip sir asks, pen poised over his notepad.

Kirti chimes in confidently, 'Essentially, it is. On each set, you'll find a daisy. It started with covering up holes and other defects, but over time, it evolved into our symbol.'

'Tell us about what's the current demand for your products, and what unique value are you bringing to the market?' Kalpana ma'am inquires.

Sakshi's gaze sharpens as she steps into the core of the pitch. 'The current demand for sustainable fashion is rising rapidly, especially among young consumers. People are becoming more conscious of fast fashion's impact on the environment, but the issue is affordability. That's where Mai steps in. We bridge the gap between sustainability and style, offering upcycled pieces at prices that don't break the bank.'

One of the Sharks, Mrs. Chhaya Birla, leans forward. 'And what's the competition like? Surely, there are other brands that claim to do something similar.'

Jigar nods. 'Yes, there are several brands focused on upcycling or thrift fashion, but most are either small-scale with limited reach or extremely expensive, positioning themselves as niche luxury brands. What sets Mai apart is that we've found a sweet spot—we're affordable, fashionable, and scalable. Our target demographic, which is mostly high school and college students, can buy into our brand without guilt or compromise. We're making sustainable fashion accessible to everyone, not just the elite.'

'What about the profits?' Raman sir asks, his voice as guttural as I remembered from the last school function.

Kirti starts, 'Let's take this tee, for example. It cost us one hundred rupees.' —It cost me fifty rupees per piece once I discarded all the irredeemable ones, 'and we are currently selling it at three hundred fifty rupees, which leaves us a profit of two hundred fifty. The store keeps sixty percent, as we're new and up-and-coming, which leaves us with forty percent of those two hundred fifty rupees, that is, one hundred rupees.'

How does she know about this? I wonder. Did she ask the store-keeper?

'So you're earning one hundred percent. That's impressive!' Kalpana ma'am remarks.

'This brings us to the big question: how are you going to scale up?' Dilip sir asks, twiddling with the pen.

Kirti pitches, 'We can go online—'

'But you'll have to maintain continuity in the online market. Let's suppose I want this blue cropped tee. If you're working with export rejects, how are you going to cater to my needs if you just have one piece of that blue tee?' Dilip sir questioned.

Sakshi is struck by the question. She blinks through the lights, looking vulnerable. Before I overthink this, I walk up to the stage, take Romil's mic, who stares at me as if shocked by my presence, and stand beside Sakshi. 'Hello Sharks, I'm Maithili.' I glance at Sakshi and she smiles tentatively before speaking into her mic, 'She's the mastermind behind Mai. It's actually Mai by Maithili. We coined Mai as a tribute to her work. She's been working on this for over a year now.'

I offer a small thanks to her without the mic and proceed to face the panel and a rather large coterie of students.

'To address your question, no, we won't be offering identical products, which is why a B2C model through marketplaces like Amazon or Myntra isn't feasible for us. But that doesn't mean we can't go online. Our plan is to launch our own website, where we'll showcase our unique, upcycled pieces. We'll leverage social media influencers to create buzz around our brand, building momentum organically.

'Once we've gained traction, we aim to scale using a B2B model. We'll partner with retail stores located near school, colleges and universities, displaying our collections under their umbrella while Mai maintains its own dedicated section for upcycled products. This approach allows us to reach our target audience without the immediate need for heavy capital investment in standalone stores—though that's definitely part of our long-term vision.'

I put the mic down, my heartbeat quickening in the ensuing silence. After a few seconds, a wave of applause rings in my ears. Sakshi grins at me, giggling. The sharks are conversing among themselves, deliberating over us. They instruct us to wait for the results, and as we walk away from the stage, we are met with another thunder of applause that I'm sure won't pause anytime soon.