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The Mettupalayam sun was a merciless bronze gong, hammering down on the platform as the Kovai Express hissed its last. Anjali Varadarajan, clutching a faded blue duffel bag, felt the weight of more than just her clothes. It was the weight of her father’s nervous silence, her mother’s tearful kumkumam on her forehead, and the suffocating promise she’d made: Study. Become an engineer. Come back.

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Having a crush on someone (e.g., "Ava mela oru route-u"). The Mettupalayam sun was a merciless bronze gong,