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February 2, 2025

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Crack Code: Semester 1

A Coming-of-Age Campus Comedy — Book One of the Crack Code Saga

Nine strangers. One brutal, hilarious first year at an Indian engineering college. And a friend group you would survive anything for. Book one of the Crack Code saga — a warm, funny coming-of-age novel about first crushes, borrowed courage, and the people who quietly become your home.

Format
Novel
Release
February 2, 2025
Pages
466
ISBN
979-8283261300
Series
Crack Code · Book 1

Crack Code: Semester 1 · Sample

Chapter One — The Bell - I

July had turned the campus into a punishment. The pathways shimmered. The fountain in the middle of the grounds kept bubbling as if it had been hired specifically to insult everyone who could not climb into it.

Ishwaak wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and pushed through the crowd toward the academic block. Freshers drifted everywhere in bright clothes and louder confidence, stopping in clusters, admiring themselves in phone screens, laughing like the heat had made a private arrangement with them.

“Same species, different packaging,” he muttered. “Vanity survives all weather.”

By the time he reached the stairs, Gabbriel ma’am’s lecture was already leaking through the classroom door: precise, fast, and dangerous. He paused with one hand on the handle, listening for a gap that never came.

The door creaked anyway.

Thirty heads turned.

Gabbriel ma’am stopped writing. Her chalk remained pressed to the board, mid-word.

“Ah, Ishwaak,” she said. “We were wondering whether time had finally accepted you as its superior.”

The room rippled. Dhritil bent over his notebook, shoulders shaking. Ishwaak lowered his eyes.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then behave like someone who lives inside it. Sit.”

He slipped into his seat beside Gargi, trying to make the least possible sound. The chair still scraped the floor with the confidence of a betrayal.

Gargi did not turn toward him. Only her lips moved. “Historic moment. Ishwaak attends class while class is still happening.”

“Frame it,” he whispered, pulling out his pen. “Gift it to my descendants.”

Gabbriel ma’am resumed. “Semiconductors,” she said, underlining the word hard enough to leave a dent. “Without them, your phones, laptops, calculators, and the memes you consider culture would all collapse.”

From the row ahead, Della spoke with grave conviction. “Everything is material. Even memes.”

Gabbriel ma’am did not turn. “Miss Kaur, if that thought has completed its spiritual journey, allow it to rest.”

The laughter moved through the class quickly and died just as quickly. Ishwaak exhaled. The spotlight had moved, and survival was still possible.

“Lab file?” Dhritil whispered from behind him.

Ishwaak kept his eyes on the board. “Obviously.”

“That means no.”

“That means obviously no.”

Across the room, Isabel looked back. Her eyebrows asked the whole question.

File?

Ishwaak gave the smallest possible shake of his head. Isabel closed her eyes for one long second, then jabbed Ikrut in the arm. Ikrut startled, opened his bag, and handed over a file so badly written it looked brave for existing. Isabel passed it across two benches with the smooth efficiency of someone who had been born managing emergencies.

You owe him, she mouthed.

Ishwaak pressed the file to his chest and mouthed back, I owe civilization.

Ikrut, catching none of this except the loss of his file, looked personally betrayed.

When the bell finally rang, the class stood as if released from a court order. Gabbriel ma’am’s voice followed them into the aisle.

“Files are due tomorrow. Late submissions will not be accepted. This is not a decorative sentence.”

In the hallway the air felt only slightly less cooked. The group gathered by instinct: Ishwaak, Gargi, Dhritil, Isabel, Della, Divyant, Illiana, Ikrut, and Jane half-drifting near the edge with the expression of someone waiting for better gossip.

“Physics lab next,” Dhritil said, already defeated.

“Of course,” Della replied. “Pain must maintain a timetable.”

“You sound like Gabbriel ma’am after reading a motivational quote,” Dhritil said.

Divyant appeared beside Illiana, grin loaded and ready. “Noodle shop later?”

Illiana did not slow down. “Divyant, I would rather attend a private lecture on punctuality with Gabbriel ma’am.”

“So not a hard no?”

“It is a carved-in-stone no.”

Jane pointed toward the lab corridor. “You know what is actually funny? The AC has been broken for a week.”

“That is not funny,” Isabel said.

“Exactly. That is the joke.”

“They care,” Della said, deadpan. “They are testing how long it takes students to become a cautionary tale.”

Dhritil wiped sweat from his neck. “Let’s petition for shorts.”

“HOD sir would introduce a compulsory course called Civil Engineering in Formal Wear,” Jane said.

“I’d top that,” Divyant said.

Illiana glanced at him. “You would injure yourself during attendance.”

The canteen smell hit them as they turned the corner: samosas, fried dough, and the specific cruelty of food being nearby when duty had other plans.

Divyant stopped. “Detour?”

Isabel did not even look at him. “No.”

“One samosa.”

“No.”

“Half?”

“Graduate first.”

Ishwaak laughed, then felt Gargi looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You still have Ikrut’s file.”

He looked down. He did.

Ikrut, walking two steps behind, extended his hand with quiet tragedy.

“Right,” Ishwaak said, handing it back. “Your heroic document.”

Ikrut opened it, checked the first page, and frowned. “Why is there a new sweat mark?”

“Historical evidence,” Ishwaak said.

They reached the lab entrance together. Behind the door came the faint smell of hot wires and old equipment. The laughter thinned. Even Divyant put his phone away.

Ishwaak adjusted his bag strap. “Well. Let’s face the music.”

Jane pushed open the door. “Or the heat.”

They went in with a shared groan, still joking because none of them had learned a better method of courage.

The story continues.

Keep reading in the full edition.

Inside the book

July has turned the campus into a punishment, and Ishwaak is already late on the first day. Around him, a first semester assembles itself out of pure shared panic: Gargi, who corrects his formulas and his thinking in the same breath; Isabel, who runs the group like a small government; Della, who speaks only in metaphors; Dhritil and Divyant, who turn every disaster into material; Illiana, forever translating herself between old school friends and new ones. Together they survive lab files, terrifying professors, midnight gaming tournaments, college fests, and a WhatsApp group named — far too boldly — Friends Forever.

This is the year friendship stops being simple. First crushes arrive without instructions, courage has to be borrowed, heartbreak happens in public on the same benches where the jokes do, and every exam is a small, funny apocalypse you survive one bluff at a time. And when Daanish sits down at their table — helpful, polite, always laughing at the right moment, always asking the question no one else thought to ask — the shape of the group begins to shift so gently that no one can quite say how.

Funny, tender, and exactly observed — Five Point Someone crossed with the warmth of Kota FactoryCrack Code: Semester 1 is an ensemble coming-of-age story where the stakes are marks, trust, and belonging rather than life and death. This is the definitive remastered edition: book one of the Crack Code saga, one friend group's journey through the years of an Indian engineering college, and the best place to start before you know what to look for.

Who's who

The cast

Ishwaak

The narrator

A first-year who's always a little late and always watching. He feels the strings long before he can see the hands.

Gargi

The conscience

Sharp, principled, impossible to fool for long — the person Ishwaak notices before he'll admit he's noticing.

Daanish

The easy one

Arrives smooth and effortless, as if he'd already been invited. Everyone's favourite; nobody's problem.

Della

The nature lover

Gentle, disarming, happiest outdoors — the last person anyone would look at twice.

Jhilmil

The striver

Career-focused and clear-eyed about the game, even when the others pretend there isn't one.

Where it's set

The world

The college

An Indian engineering college run on attendance economies, internal grace, borrowed files and the 7 a.m. bus — rendered so specifically it reads like your own memory.

The canteen

Where the khata runs long, alliances form over chai, and every rumour gets its first airing.

What sets it apart

Reasons to read

A world you can taste

A fully lived-in Indian engineering campus, 2018 — Basic Electrical labs, mid-sem dread, tuck-shop printer queues, the 7 a.m. bus, freshers' parties, and sardonic ma'ams sharp enough to be characters in their own right.

An ensemble that feels real

A nine-strong friend group written with equal weight — no one is scenery. The comedy comes from how well they know each other; the heart comes from watching them learn how much that costs.

Coming of age, played for laughs and ache

First crushes, borrowed courage, public heartbreak, red ink on answer sheets — the ordinary, hilarious, quietly devastating business of growing up away from home for the first time.

The texture of Indian college life

SUB-G squad matches, group-chat wars, Karnival 2K18 and the Parivartan fest — the late-2010s campus rendered so specifically it reads like your own memory.

Start of an ongoing saga

Book one of the Crack Code saga — one friend group, followed across their years of college. The definitive remastered edition is the place to begin.

They went in with a shared groan, still joking because none of them had learned a better method of courage.

From Crack Code: Semester 1, Chapter 1

"Do the next problem," she said. "Not the whole paper. Not your whole life. The next problem."

From Crack Code: Semester 1, Chapter 25

For once, the group's noise was not a weakness. It was a wall. Imperfect, loud, full of bad drawings and worse jokes, but still standing.

From Crack Code: Semester 1, Chapter 12

By the numbers

start of the saga
Book 1
Semesters 1 & 2
Out now
friendship · first love · comedy
Coming of age
reading age
16+

July has turned the campus into a punishment, and Ishwaak is late on the first day. Around him, a first semester assembles itself: Gargi, who corrects his formulas and his thinking in the same breath; Isabel, who runs the group like a small government; Della, who speaks in metaphors; Dhritil and Divyant, who turn every disaster into material; Illiana, translating herself between old school friends and new ones. Together they survive lab files, terrifying professors, gaming tournaments, fests, and a group chat named — too boldly — Friends Forever.

Then Daanish sits down at their table. He is helpful. He is polite. He laughs at the right moments and asks the questions no one else thinks to ask. And slowly, without a single provable act, the shape of the group begins to change.

Crack Code: Semester I is a novel about the year friendship stops being simple — about borrowed courage, public heartbreak, red ink on answer sheets, and learning who to trust when nothing can be proved. This is the remastered edition: the definitive text of the semester where it all begins. The saga continues with Semester 2 in September 2026.

The series

More in Crack Code

View the full series
Crack Code: Semester 2 book cover

A Coming-of-Age Campus Comedy — Book Two of the Crack Code Saga

Crack Code: Semester 2

Second semester and the friendships that felt unbreakable in October are learning they have edges. Book two of the Crack Code saga — a funny, warm coming-of-age story about first love, loyalty and growing up in an Indian engineering college.

Good to know

Questions, answered

What readers say

Reader reviews

Book Lover

This book is an engaging and relatable read that perfectly captures the highs and lows of college life. With compelling characters, realistic struggles, and an inspiring journey of ambition and self-discovery, the book keeps readers hooked. The writing is sharp, emotional, and full of moments that feel authentic. Sharma balances humour, drama, and motivation effortlessly, making this a must-read for students and young professionals. A fresh and thought-provoking take on ambition, friendship, and growth.

BookReaderWriter

This book captures the ups and downs of student life, blending ambition, friendship, and self-discovery into an engaging read. The struggles of navigating coursework, personal aspirations, and social challenges feel incredibly real, making it easy to connect with the journey. The writing keeps you hooked, and the themes of perseverance and growth resonate beyond just engineering students. Whether you’re in college or just enjoy stories about ambition and self-improvement, this is a compelling and inspiring read!

Mohit

This book is about Ishwaak and his friends. It follows them through their first semester of engineering, with all its ups and downs. The book is funny and sad, with lots of interesting characters. I liked how the book showed what college is really like. The exams, the late nights, the friends-it all felt very real. The characters are easy to understand and I cared about what happened to them. The book is also funny. I laughed out loud a few times, especially at the parts about the professors. The author knows how to write good jokes. Overall, I enjoyed this book. It's a good story about college life, with all its good and bad phases. If you're in college, or if you've ever been to college, you'll probably like this book.

Avana

This book really captures what it's like to be an engineering student, with all the stress and drama that comes with it. The story follows Ishwaak and Gargi through their first semester, and honestly, it's pretty engaging. What makes this book work is how it balances the academic stuff with the personal relationships. The friendship drama might seem a bit much at times, but that's exactly how everything feels when you're in college. While some of the technical details might be hard to follow for non-engineering readers, the emotional parts of the story make up for it. It's a solid read if you're interested in college life stories or just want something that feels real and relatable.

Leave a review

Rating

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Crack Code: Semester 1 cover

Get Crack Code: Semester 1

Nine strangers. One brutal, hilarious first year at an Indian engineering college. And a friend group you would survive anything for. Book one of the Crack Code saga — a warm, funny coming-of-age novel about first crushes, borrowed courage, and the people who quietly become your home.

Crack Code: Semester 1 · Sample

Chapter One — The Bell - I

July had turned the campus into a punishment. The pathways shimmered. The fountain in the middle of the grounds kept bubbling as if it had been hired specifically to insult everyone who could not climb into it.

Ishwaak wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and pushed through the crowd toward the academic block. Freshers drifted everywhere in bright clothes and louder confidence, stopping in clusters, admiring themselves in phone screens, laughing like the heat had made a private arrangement with them.

“Same species, different packaging,” he muttered. “Vanity survives all weather.”

By the time he reached the stairs, Gabbriel ma’am’s lecture was already leaking through the classroom door: precise, fast, and dangerous. He paused with one hand on the handle, listening for a gap that never came.

The door creaked anyway.

Thirty heads turned.

Gabbriel ma’am stopped writing. Her chalk remained pressed to the board, mid-word.

“Ah, Ishwaak,” she said. “We were wondering whether time had finally accepted you as its superior.”

The room rippled. Dhritil bent over his notebook, shoulders shaking. Ishwaak lowered his eyes.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then behave like someone who lives inside it. Sit.”

He slipped into his seat beside Gargi, trying to make the least possible sound. The chair still scraped the floor with the confidence of a betrayal.

Gargi did not turn toward him. Only her lips moved. “Historic moment. Ishwaak attends class while class is still happening.”

“Frame it,” he whispered, pulling out his pen. “Gift it to my descendants.”

Gabbriel ma’am resumed. “Semiconductors,” she said, underlining the word hard enough to leave a dent. “Without them, your phones, laptops, calculators, and the memes you consider culture would all collapse.”

From the row ahead, Della spoke with grave conviction. “Everything is material. Even memes.”

Gabbriel ma’am did not turn. “Miss Kaur, if that thought has completed its spiritual journey, allow it to rest.”

The laughter moved through the class quickly and died just as quickly. Ishwaak exhaled. The spotlight had moved, and survival was still possible.

“Lab file?” Dhritil whispered from behind him.

Ishwaak kept his eyes on the board. “Obviously.”

“That means no.”

“That means obviously no.”

Across the room, Isabel looked back. Her eyebrows asked the whole question.

File?

Ishwaak gave the smallest possible shake of his head. Isabel closed her eyes for one long second, then jabbed Ikrut in the arm. Ikrut startled, opened his bag, and handed over a file so badly written it looked brave for existing. Isabel passed it across two benches with the smooth efficiency of someone who had been born managing emergencies.

You owe him, she mouthed.

Ishwaak pressed the file to his chest and mouthed back, I owe civilization.

Ikrut, catching none of this except the loss of his file, looked personally betrayed.

When the bell finally rang, the class stood as if released from a court order. Gabbriel ma’am’s voice followed them into the aisle.

“Files are due tomorrow. Late submissions will not be accepted. This is not a decorative sentence.”

In the hallway the air felt only slightly less cooked. The group gathered by instinct: Ishwaak, Gargi, Dhritil, Isabel, Della, Divyant, Illiana, Ikrut, and Jane half-drifting near the edge with the expression of someone waiting for better gossip.

“Physics lab next,” Dhritil said, already defeated.

“Of course,” Della replied. “Pain must maintain a timetable.”

“You sound like Gabbriel ma’am after reading a motivational quote,” Dhritil said.

Divyant appeared beside Illiana, grin loaded and ready. “Noodle shop later?”

Illiana did not slow down. “Divyant, I would rather attend a private lecture on punctuality with Gabbriel ma’am.”

“So not a hard no?”

“It is a carved-in-stone no.”

Jane pointed toward the lab corridor. “You know what is actually funny? The AC has been broken for a week.”

“That is not funny,” Isabel said.

“Exactly. That is the joke.”

“They care,” Della said, deadpan. “They are testing how long it takes students to become a cautionary tale.”

Dhritil wiped sweat from his neck. “Let’s petition for shorts.”

“HOD sir would introduce a compulsory course called Civil Engineering in Formal Wear,” Jane said.

“I’d top that,” Divyant said.

Illiana glanced at him. “You would injure yourself during attendance.”

The canteen smell hit them as they turned the corner: samosas, fried dough, and the specific cruelty of food being nearby when duty had other plans.

Divyant stopped. “Detour?”

Isabel did not even look at him. “No.”

“One samosa.”

“No.”

“Half?”

“Graduate first.”

Ishwaak laughed, then felt Gargi looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You still have Ikrut’s file.”

He looked down. He did.

Ikrut, walking two steps behind, extended his hand with quiet tragedy.

“Right,” Ishwaak said, handing it back. “Your heroic document.”

Ikrut opened it, checked the first page, and frowned. “Why is there a new sweat mark?”

“Historical evidence,” Ishwaak said.

They reached the lab entrance together. Behind the door came the faint smell of hot wires and old equipment. The laughter thinned. Even Divyant put his phone away.

Ishwaak adjusted his bag strap. “Well. Let’s face the music.”

Jane pushed open the door. “Or the heat.”

They went in with a shared groan, still joking because none of them had learned a better method of courage.

The story continues.

Keep reading in the full edition.