The Uncalled Passenger (Version 2) - By Thejashree Gandhamaneni

Written By: Thejashree Gandhamaneni

Category: Literary Fiction

Competition: Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Thejashree Gandhamaneni presents "The Uncalled Passenger (Version 2)", a deeply introspective piece in the Creative Writing category of the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar. This vignette explores the nuanced dynamics of an Indian classroom, where belonging is dictated not just by academic performance but by one's social standing. With a reflective tone, the narrative delves into themes of isolation and self-discovery, offering readers a glimpse into the silent struggles of finding one's place in a world structured by unseen hierarchies.

About the Work

The essence of "The Uncalled Passenger" lies in its vivid portrayal of the loneliness experienced even in the midst of a bustling classroom. Through precise imagery and heartfelt introspection, Thejashree captures the protagonist's journey of self-acceptance amidst social exclusion. The narrative is rich with sensory details, from the smell of rain on uniforms to the sound of a farewell bell, creating a poignant tapestry of childhood memories. It challenges the reader to consider the silent observers in their own lives, those who hold the room together without ever stepping into the spotlight.

The Uncalled Passenger(Version 2)A vignette

Original Submission by Thejashree Gandhamaneni

Author’s Note:

If parts of this feel unfamiliar, that is expected.

And if you find yourself unsettled by what you recognize, sit with it.

Some stories are not meant to comfort.

Only to remain.

The hierarchy of an Indian classroom isn't decided by grades, it’s decided by where you stand. Some are the pulse of the class. Others are the walls-witnesses who never intrude but hold the room together. And beneath that silent order, school buzzes on in its ordinary chaos:

The frenzy of exam season.

Last-minute homework sagas.

The smell of rain on damp uniforms.

Chalk dust sprayed on a blackboard.

And yet, this belonging comes at a cost:

A disastrous exam.

An empty seat where a friend should be.

An incompetent mentor.

A teacher who treats a misplaced comma as a moral failing.

When the farewell eve arrives, nostalgia floods the corridors as students bid their last goodbye under the toll of the final bell.

The Lunch Box

A nine-year old sat by her desk, etching doodles into the wooden platform. The lunch-hour breeze drifted through the casement, while algebraic equations lay undisturbed on the blackboard.

As she watched everyone absorbed in gossip, she wondered how it was possible to feel so alone in such a noisy crowd.

While others bustled through the corridors to reunite with their allies, those thirty minutes, for her, were a dreaded vacuum -more nerve-racking than the stout Maths tutor. She studied her peers and tried to initiate conversations.

But friendship is indeed a two-way street.

And she?

She was at a dead end.

Staring through the glass, she whispered to herself:

Maybe friends are not for everyone.

Maybe I need to like myself first.

The Last Seat

On a brittle winter morning, savoring a handful of peanuts, she boarded the bus and leaped towards the first seat.

As she waved at her father who was dressed as usual in his torn sweater and white kufi, the older girls threw their bags down onto the seats, pointing towards the back.

As the bus pulled past the flickering lamppost, her father, ran alongside it, yelling through the glass:

“Stop the bus! Give her a seat! She might fall!”

In a split-second, the windows were shut.

And the next day, a pin was pressed tight into the leather seat, waiting for her.

The Crowd

Elementary school was a group of well-knitted cliques. She began picking up their tones, their accents, their body language-everything that felt lesser and lesser like her.

With neatly plaited braids and a crisply ironed uniform, she greeted everyone warmly enough to earn a seat at the table and was convinced that - if you cannot find a place in a crowd, the flaw must lie within you.

Rehearsing relevant dialogues and abbreviations became the routine.

And yet, most of her time was spent in the last row of the bus, next to a grimy water bucket and a mop.

The Inkpot

On a chilly November night, she stayed up until dawn crafting handwritten cards and poems for her friends.

And when the clock ticked noon, she handed them the gifts-flowers and a soft white paper spelling out lovely adjectives for each letter of their names on the occasion of friendship day.

At the end of the break, there were giggles all around. She turned to see them clutching a crinkled brown paper. The ink was smudged moist in tilted letters as it read:

“F - Failure

A - Animal

R - Rude

I - Immature

D - Daunting

A - Arrogant”

It was her name.

Spelled correctly for the first time that day.

The real strife came during sport blocks and excursions. She spent so much time observing others that she forgot she had a voice of her own, something that had dried up in disuse. In logs and fragments, she started recording her existence.

Days designed for togetherness had a unique way of exposing absence.

The Manual

Location: Basheerbagh Stadium

The twenty-acre stadium is a desert of mirages. Each peer is a hope meant to disappoint. She spent the hour alone tracing patterns in the dust:

A heart.

A bird.

A desert.

Ten trips to the loo.

And three books in the bag to carry:

one for when she's empty,

one for when better,

and one for when bored.

She leaned onto the Quran in her hand, in the hope that God would one day bring her a friend who would choose to sit by her side at lunch every day.

And back in the food court, she used to spend the time staring at the limping brown sparrow on the window pane.

It tapped at the broken wood, and in the same rhythm, Farida Khanum tapped back.

After the Last Bell

Farewell eve arrived. She watched warm hugs and camera flashes fill the room-a dance of belonging she hadn't learned the steps to.

As the crowd moved towards the after-party, she followed for a few paces-habitual and hesitant-until she caught her reflection in a window.

She looked like an uncalled passenger on a cruise: someone there to hold the camera, but never the memory.

Jotting down in her journal, she asked herself:

Why would I grieve the loss of a bond I never had?

How can I mourn a connection that never existed in the first place?

As the music played, she went up the stairs to her classroom. The doodles on the desk felt rough under her fingers. She rubbed at them, and the graphite stayed on her skin as she took the lift to search for her parents.

Near the gate, a stray dog was lying on the ground. He looked up at her for a moment and stayed still as she ran her hand over his fur once more before standing up.

The breeze brushed past her face. It felt as warm as it did when she first joined school.

The Two-wheeler

Walking past the gate, she noticed her father. He was waiting for her on the scooter, his eyes squinting in frantic search. She waved at him. He waved back.

As ​she leaped onto the saddle and leaned her forehead against his back, the rough wool of his sweater scratched her cheek.

He didn’t ask about the party or the people inside; he just reached back and revved the engine as he patted her hand.

She stole one last glimpse of that musty old building. A smile. A relief.

The cruise had sailed on.

The lamppost stopped flickering.

The sparrow lifted into the night.

And somewhere between the dock and the dark,

she stopped being the uncalled passenger.

About the Competition

The Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating literary talent from around the globe. Participants are encouraged to share their unique voices through poetry, short stories, and creative writing. This annual event fosters a community of writers who push the boundaries of creativity and expression, offering a stage for both emerging and established voices to shine.

Thank you, Thejashree Gandhamaneni, for sharing "The Uncalled Passenger (Version 2)" with us as part of the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your work resonates with the quiet struggles of finding belonging and offers a touching reflection on self-identity. We appreciate your contribution and look forward to more of your insightful storytelling.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.