Chapter 3: The Relentless Kunal Sharma

But there are always people who just can’t let things go.

Like that distant chacha who can’t resist digging up old feuds at every wedding, some people simply never rest. The world spins because of such people.

Take my study companion, Pandit Sharma’s grandson, Kunal Sharma—he’s the opposite of me.

Kunal’s family has done everything for the palace—from horoscopes to shlokas at every puja. Kunal himself is a firecracker—always itching for a challenge.

He says a true man shouldn’t live in another’s shadow; he must do something earth-shattering to justify his life.

At every chance, Kunal delivers speeches fit for Republic Day. “Arjun, yaar, life is not for wasting! Leave your mark—like the freedom fighters in our textbooks!”

His talent matches his ambition—he’s top in every subject, a star in debates and sports.

He wins every debate and sports meet. Teachers pin their hopes on him, mothers want their sons to be like him. Even the palace dogs wag their tails extra hard when he walks by.

Every exam, I come last among the princes, while Kunal Sharma is always first among the study companions.

When marks are read in the echoing halls, I slouch; Kunal stands tall, already anticipating congratulatory laddoos from the kitchen.

He’s humiliated by this and tries every trick to force me to study like him.

He once bribed me with samosas if I finished a chapter, but I just ate the samosa and dozed off. His persistence is stronger than the monsoon downpour.

Every day before dawn, he’s at my door, banging on the windows:

“Oye, Arjun! Uth ja, bhai! If you don’t get up now, I’ll dump a whole jug of water on you—last warning!” The servants groan as he wakes the palace. Sometimes I pretend to snore louder, but he never gives up.

“Arjun, get up! The tutor is teaching history and civics today—if you’re late, you’ll miss it!”

No excuse works. Even if I hide under the blanket, he’ll drag me by the ankle, muttering about the kingdom’s future.

Just after lunch, he drags me to cricket practice.

My stomach was still heavy with maa ke haath ka dal-chawal, but Kunal was already waving the bat like a traffic cop. He says, “No prince of this land will fail at cricket while I’m around.” I think he cares more than my own brothers.

Eldest Brother sees me nodding off while batting and kindly tells me to rest for a while.

Rohan bhaiya winks and says, “Chal, Arjun, go nap. Don’t let Kunal turn you into Sachin overnight.” He gives me a secret thumbs-up as I escape.

But Kunal Sharma finds a bat and whacks the ground, making the coach shout and making me focus.

He whacks so loudly the sound echoes like the school principal’s danda on assembly day. The coach, fed up, threatens to send us both to the Maharaja’s court if we don’t behave.

I’m nearly bowled out, so I have no choice but to grip the bat and focus all my energy on learning to play with him.

When the sun is high and my shirt sticks to my back, I finally hit a half-decent shot. Kunal pumps his fist like we’ve won the Ranji Trophy.

Even at night, Kunal won’t let me rest.

When the palace settles and the pressure cooker’s whistle fades, Kunal arrives with his ruler and textbooks. Even the moon must get tired watching him lecture me.

He grabs a ruler, like a strict tuition teacher, and makes me recite all the day’s lessons before letting me go.

He taps the table for every wrong answer. “Arjun, even the palace cows know more history than you! Now, repeat after me!”

But no matter how hard he tries, I forget what I’ve memorised, leaving him so exasperated he breaks ruler after ruler over the desk.

One night, he broke his favourite wooden ruler. The next day, his Dadaji scolded him for wasting palace property. I tried to offer my collection of broken rulers as a peace offering, but he just shook his head.

Still, Kunal refuses to give up on me.

He’s convinced I am his life’s biggest project, more important than any gold medal or scholarship.

He only wonders if he’s not being strict enough, and then invents new ways to push me harder.

Last week, he even tried to bribe the palace cook to withhold my evening rasgullas unless I finished my civics homework. That’s real dedication!

Sometimes I wonder if the gods sent him just to make sure I never get lazy in peace. But, deep down, I know he’s the brother I chose.

I try telling him: “When I was little, I fell in the well, got a high fever that wouldn’t go away, and it damaged my brain. Don’t waste your energy on me.”

He laughs, shakes his head, and says, “Don’t give me that bakwas, Arjun! Even a donkey can learn if you try.”

But he just says: “A slow horse needs to start running early!”

He repeats this every time he sees me slouch. It’s become his favourite proverb, as if it were his family motto.

If stubbornness were an Olympic sport, Kunal would have won gold, silver, and bronze all by himself.

Sometimes I suspect Father Maharaja saw me living too comfortably, resented my lack of ambition, and assigned Kunal Sharma to torment me.

Knowing my father’s cunning, this wouldn’t surprise me. Kunal is the only one who can out-stubborn the palace elephants.