I awoke to a strange, loud banging on my door, accompanied by repeated calls of my name. The lights in my hostel room were off, and I was sleeping with two friends, joining two large beds together. That was our usual way of sleeping, as the other two beds on the opposite side of the four-bedded room were always occupied with a big carom board and piles of clothes. It was unmistakably the voice of my friend Sukumar from the adjacent room. I woke up with a jerk, leaped over my sleeping friend, who was already emerging from his deep sleep, turned on the light, and rushed to open the door. It was indeed Sukumar, sweating profusely, wearing just half pants, our usual attire in the summer as there were no air conditioners available then in the government institute hostels. Standing next to him was his roommate Pradosh, wearing a lungi and bare-bodied, who looked completely normal. Sukumar, a tall boy studying post-graduation in mathematics, rushed into our room and repeatedly asked me to close the door with a petrified voice, followed by Pradosh. I nervously asked, "What happened?" while my other friends, Chandan and Neta, emerging from bed. It all unfolded within less than a minute.

As Sukumar stepped in and I tried to ease him onto the beds harbouring our carom board, Pradosh mentioned that he had seen something. Meanwhile, Chandan and Neta had joined us. Among my friends, I was considered brave and mature, while Chandan typically took everything lightly, except his clothing and food. He first smiled and asked, "What? Come on." With a trembling voice, Sukumar said, "I saw a lady sitting on my study chair next to my bed, wearing white cloth and looking at me very intently." Even today, as I write this storyafter a few decades, I still experience goose-bumps.

All the rooms on this floor of the post-graduation hostel were four-bedded. There were common toilets at the corner of each floor. Each bed was accompanied by a study table, a chair, and a shelf carved on the wall. The four beds occupied the four corners of the room with space in between to roam around. In our room, there were Chandan, Neta, Prabhat, and me. While Chandan and Neta were studying Sanskrit, Prabhat was a student of philosophical science, and I was studying chemistry, and we were all in the second year. Based on the merit of our performance in the first year, I was assigned a single room on a separate floor, but I had to forgo it as my friends did not allow me to leave. Our room was mostly governed by the rules set by my three friends to keep the others, especially me, involved. For example, they were willing to do anything, even borrow money from others, to submit their attendance on the very first day a film was released in the theatre, but I was never ready for this. Mind you, there was no Netflix or Amazon Prime or even mobile phones in those days. Three of them unanimously passed a rule in the room that if three of us wanted to do anything, the fourth one was obliged to comply, stripping me of my freedom to choose. The entire hostel knew about our close friendship. On the day of the incident, Prabhat was not in the hostel.

Sukumar, visibly shaken, repeatedly urged us to close the skylights using papers. As we attempted to calm him down, Pradosh mentioned that Sukumar kicked him while he was sleeping next to him in a similar manner we usedto sleep in our room by joining beds, but he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary except for the horrified expression on Sukumar's face and his pleas for help. The other two roommates in their room were absent that day, allowing them to keep one light at the far opposite corner of Sukumar's study table lit. The room was fairly well-lit.

Sukumar then took over, saying nervously, "I saw a lady sitting on my chair next to study table wearing a white cloth, staring keenly at me. I saw her clearly for a brief moment, and as I tried to call Pradosh, I couldn't utter a word. So, I kicked him, and when he woke up, the lady vanished. Trust me. Believe me. I'm not lying." He continued, and I found myself accepting his words as true, as his appearance and trembling voice didn't seem without reason.

There was a reason why Sukumar called out my name. Adjacent to my study table was a large window, and one of the iron rods of the window had been loosened by my ancestors. One could easily remove it to create a space to sleep through the window. Though many of my friends believed that our predecessors had prepared this as a means of defence against potential danger, so that the sturdy iron rod could be used as a weapon for attack and defence. However, there was another mysterious aspect that contradicted this theory. Just next to my window was a large boundary wall, with a gap of hardly two feet from the hostel wall. This boundary wall was noticeably curved out from the top, a damage intentionally made. One could easily climb over the wall and jump to the other side, where there was something special awaiting the adventurous: the platform ofthe nearby railway station to support the landing. My ancestors used it as a passage to make their escape good or enter even though the main gate remained closed as per the direction of the superintendent.

You might wonder how it proved to my friends that I was brave. Due to the peculiar rules of our room, I couldn't study once my late-rising friends stirred from their last vestiges of sleep, diving into their conversations about girls, teachers, films, food, and whatever else, contradicting each other, laughing, smiling, and freely slinging abuse. So, driven by survival instinct, I would wake up much before sunrise, wash up quickly, and like a stealthy intruder, remove the iron rod, climb over the boundary wall, and land on the platform to enjoy my first cup of tea and refresh myself. This routine helped me to shake off the sluggishness of sleep rapidly. Then I jumped to my study table. I utilized this time to study very sincerely, knowing full well that my friends would never allow me the luxury of studying undisturbed once they were awake.

Notably, the passage between the hostel and the boundary wall was shaded by a large Peepal tree (ashvattha or fig) There was a tale circulating about the spirit of a girl student who had committed suicide in the nearby girls' hostel, supposedly haunting that tree. However, as a matter of my survival strategy, I paid no attention to such talk and frequently traversed that path. Consequently, everyone in my close vicinity considered me brave.

The truth was, I came from a very humble family and had travelled over four hundred kilometres to pursue my studies, with the dream of contributing to my family's prosperity. My education was diligently sponsored by my elder brother, while I had a younger sister andbrother studying back in my hometown. I bore the weight of supporting my family, especially as my father neared retirement from his modest government job. Additionally, I had a girlfriend, and if I ever felt the need to impress someone with my talent, it was her. I even dreamed of marrying her in the future. There was no escaping the necessity of putting in extra effort into my studies.

The challenge lay in balancing my own dreams, familial responsibilities, and my desire to stay close to my friends. It was my first time living in a hostel, surrounded by such good friends, and I was not willing to part with them. My behaviour was driven by a survival instinct, as I mentioned earlier, but my friends saw enough qualities in me to call me brave.

While Chandan laughed at Sukumar's expense, I was earnestly directing everyone to comply with Sukumar's requests to close the skylights, and I was also trying hard to help. Pradosh and Sukumar stayed in our room for the rest part of that night. We slept very little. By the next sunrise, as the hostel inmates came to know about the incident, the story of the deceased girl emerged in various forms, capturing more attention than the plight of Sukumar.

As the day wore on, we gathered on the hostel football ground in the evening, where I caught wind of the story surrounding our newly discovered yet long-standing neighbour. She hailed from a small village, pursuing post-graduation studies in English approximately seven years prior to our time. While her appearance was unremarkable, her voice held a certain enchantment.

She found herself drawn into a relationship, whether by genuine affection or coercion, after persistent pleas from one of her fellow students. Over the course of a few months, she grew increasinglycommitted to the relationship, while her partner remained indecisive or confused. Within the following six months, he was discovered conversing with another newcomer from the same department, a girl of breathtaking beauty, despite the heartfelt pleas of his original girlfriend.

One morning, the village girl's lifeless body was discovered hanging from the ceiling fan of her hostel room, her roommate absent at the time. A note was found nearby, in which she placed blame solely on herself. As this tale was recounted in the football field, Neta appeared stunned out of fear, while Chandan, known for his astute observations, speculated something:

"Who knows, at the time of her death, she may have tried not to blame anyone, but later, she may have had a change of heart. I mean posthumously. Perhaps she lingered near the boys' hostel, seeking to frighten those who had been disloyal in their relationships and thoughtlessly broken the hearts of girls."

Now, I intervened, exuding the signs of a leader and a responsible fellow. 'Sukumar! Have you ever cheated on any girl?' There was no chance of Sukumar getting offended by my question, as all of us were used to much more derogatory comments than this. He replied swiftly, "Never." Neta, who had an inclination of portraying himself as a seeker of God, remarked with an authoritative voice, "If not in this life, maybe you had cheated someone in your earlier lives. Our karma follows us like our shadow."

Meanwhile, I found myself engrossed in contemplating what to do about my routine of visiting the railway platform in the early hours of the morning. Despite the attempts of a few friends to instil fear in me by suggesting that the supernatural becomes more active during those hours, I was gathering the courage to stick to my old routine. This determinationwas fuelled by my love for my nightly cup of tea from the platform and my commitment to studying. However, I couldn't shake the feeling of missing Prabhat, who would have provided me with reassurance of safety. We had a very special relationship, as I used to protect him from my other two friends. One incident comes to mind.

One day, after returning from my practical classes, I found two of my friends, Neta and Chandan, guarding Prabhat, who stood there wearing only a wet towel, holding his ears, and doing sit-ups. It was winter, and in that town, temperatures could drop as low as seven degrees Celsius. Both had earlier slapped and kicked Prabhat, drenching him in cold water and ordering him to do one hundred sit-ups. The two watched as their victim complied with their orders. Prabhat's crime was smoking cigarettes. I did nothing but watch as my two ferocious friends executed this punishment. How could I remain silent in the face of such crime? They seemed to expect my support and agreement with their harsh methods, but I remained silent, which they could not appreciate. Prabhat, though smiling, couldn't hide the pain etched on his face.

After this ordeal, food was prepared, and Prabhat was fed with lots of affection. Days went by uneventfully. Then, one fine morning, while I was deeply engrossed in my studies after my morning ritual, I noticed Prabhat standing next to my chair with a troubled expression. Concerned, I asked, "What happened?"

"I am unable to pass stool," Prabhat replied. I understood immediately, knowing it was likely due to his cessation of smoking. While the two judges who had ordered him to quit smoking were asleep, I granted Prabhat special permission to sneak out for a smoke. However, there was a challenge: it was thefirst week of the month, and he had no money. Being a compassionate friend, I offered him the funds for just one cigarette, on the condition that he wouldn't ask for more - a promise he never bothered to keep.

There was no end to the knowledge shared and gained while we were seated in the football field that evening. Neta suggested to Sukumar, "Why didn't you utter the name of God or chant a mantra when you saw her? Are you a fool?" Sukumar seemed perplexed. Then Pradosh added another valuable comment, "What if the ghost is not Hindu? Why would it fear your Hindu God and their mantras?" Everyone agreed, as nobody knew the girl's name or religion. Chandan intervened in his style "If Sukumar had chanted the name of a Hindu God and the spirit happened to be Christian, she might have laughed and kicked Sukumar and said, 'You fool, slave of the ghouls! Spineless creature. I am not afraid of your God" This statement sparked loud laughter among us, catching the attention of another group of boys sitting nearby.

As night fell, we unanimously decided that all five of us - Chandan, Neta, Pradosh, Sukumar, and I - would camp together in our room. There was no question of parting with our friend to that lady, no matter how captivating her voice may be, without putting up resistance. But what about dinner tonight? Our hostel mess was closed for some peculiar reasons from time unknown. Each night, some outsiders from the nearby market would barge in and help themselves to a sumptuous meal before we could be served, and our superintendent had no power to prevent them. Consequently, the venerable superintendent ordered the cessation of food production.

We had our own setup for preparing food in ourhostel room, which doubled as our kitchen. Disregarding hostel rules, we installed a heater in our room for cooking, and the division of labour among the four of us was based on our individual abilities. Initially, since I confessed my inability to cook, I was assigned the task of procuring vegetables. Prabhat was tasked with cooking rice exclusively. Neta and Chandan were responsible for preparing the dishes, both being skilled cooks, with Chandan especially adept as the master chef. However, they soon realized my incompetence in selecting vegetables, leading to a swap in responsibilities between Prabhat and me. I was content with my new duty, as it spared me from trips to the market. However, this arrangement lasted only a few days before complaints arose about undercooked or overcooked rice. Eventually, I was relieved of my rice-cooking duties, and my friends unanimously directed me to wash all the dishes after our two main meals - a task we used to share before this decision was made.

Chandan suggested fish that night, a dish he cooked to perfection. "What are you saying?" shouted Neta. "It's already the last week of the month, and we've all run out of money." In our usual routine, I was the first to receive money from my elder brother, who never delayed in sending it. There was no Paytm, and none of us had a bank account or and no net banking in those days. We used to collect money from the postman in the form of a money order. After I received my money, we would live on it for the first week or so of the month, waiting for Chandan's share to arrive, followed by Neta's. Usually, we were transparent about the dates we expected to receive our money due to our circumstances, exceptfor Pravat, as he received his money on some unknown dates of the month through a friend from his department of his own village. Prabhat's parents would send money through this friend who would visit his home every month, proudly describing him as homesick. However, Prabhat was a good friend and showed his solidarity towards friendship by giving us enough clues to know that he had received the money. Each month, on different dates, you would see Prabhat sitting on a large stone within the hostel campus, smoking a long, slim black cigarette, brand not known to me today, wholeheartedly - I bet he has received money.

This night, we all missed Prabhat for a reason best known to the three of us. There was hardly a month when we wouldn't run out of money near the end, but we never hesitated to take a risk to treat ourselves to the best cuisines we could manage. My friend Prabhat's role became paramount. With just one call from any of us, especially with my approval, he would embark on a mission to borrow money from some of our hostel mates and never returned empty-handed. But who would arrange money for us tonight? We had forgotten about someone's presence - a stinking rich friend, Sukumar himself. After showing so much concern to protect him from that restless soul, who might have fallen in love with our handsome friend, we had every reason to spend his money lavishly on that night. Everything needed for a nice meal was procured soon, food was prepared, though the affair continued till late at night, and I was spared mostly except some mild help from cleaning dishes as a gesture of appreciation to such a brave, intelligent, and mature friend.

We settled into bed with a different arrangement forthe night. Neither Chandan nor Sukumar was willing to let me have my own space; the former out of affection and the latter considering me his protector. Thus, the three of us ended up sharing two beds, with me in the middle. We cleared the carom board from its usual spot to make room. Pradosh and Neta took up the other two beds. Sukumar insisted on keeping the lights on, but Chandan knew how to assert himself, even resorting to slang if necessary. Eventually, Sukumar relented, and the lights went out. It was a wonder whether we could fall asleep so easily with so much activity around us. While I tried to drift off, Chandan began recounting stories loudly about his female classmates, sparing none, not even mine, as he was acquainted with them too. He made remarks as he pleased, laughing to himself, with Neta playing along, and Pradosh, though not saying anything, continued to laugh. Sukumar couldn't stay calm in the darkness, especially with the peepal tree outside the window near his bed, despite the window being tightly shut. He kept murmuring his fear in my ear, while I was caught between Chandan's loud chatter and Sukumar's anxious whispers.

Everything fell silent with a thud. Sukumar cried out, "What happened?" I was just drifting into sleep when, in a half-awake state, I reached out my arm to find Chandan next to me, only to discover an empty space. Surprised, I jumped up from my bed and moved towards the switchboard to turn on the light. There was Chandan, trying to get up from the floor with a grin on his face. While laughing and tossing on his bed, he had actually fallen off. It was my turn, and Chandan, knowing he couldn't ignore my shouting, listened to every wordof my rebuke. We didn't realize when we slipped into a deep state of slumber after the hectic day, filled with both responsible and irresponsible actions.

The following morning, I chose to break my customary ritual of heading to the railway station for tea. Prabhat's arrival around 8 AM brought a sense of completeness to our group, as if we were now a unified force ready to confront any challenges that came our way. We felt equipped to face not just one, but several troubled souls, individuals we had begun to perceive as foolish in their response to relationship woes. Prabhat, stepping into the room, remained unaware of recent events. In today's era of instant communication via mobile phones, he would have been promptly updated. Notably, our hostel lacked even a single telephone; we relied on public phone booths for any necessary calls, and none of us possessed a phone at home. Despite this lack of connectivity, we radiated happiness, prioritizing our bonds, embracing life's richness, and maintaining dedication to our studies proportional to our determination.

Who would now elaborate every detail to Prabhat? We almost began together when he arrived, but he chose to join Neta instead of me and Chandan. He believed that I would offer only a few sentences out of habit, and Chandan would undermine the event's importance by frequently laughing and interjecting with his own comments. While listening to Neta narrate the events, I noticed a shift in focus to the girl as the central character. The narrative highlighted the potential injustice done to her and her possible motive for seeking revenge, while Sukumar's plight seemed to diminish in importance. Prabhat listened to everything, and after glancing at me and receiving silent approval, he declared full security for Sukumar, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

On the thirdday following the incident, Aditya, Sukumar's other roommate, arrived. He, too, was a student of mathematics. Aditya and Pradosh decided to sleep in their room and assured Sukumar of full protection. We offered Sukumar a place to sleep in our room if he wished. However, it was agreed upon that the three of them would sleep in their room, while we would occupy ours. Within the next two to three days, the story of our friendship and how we stood by the victim became even more a popular topic in the hostel and partially in the college as well. The hostel inmates seemed to divide into two groups. One group, comprising those with a history of mistreating girls, appeared somewhat apprehensive, while the other, consisting of those without such records, expressed sympathy for the girl. Some even took the opportunity to criticize, raising doubts over her character and questioning why she chose to stay near a boys' hostel and what exactly she wanted to observe.

Amidst these hullabaloos, the week seemed to pass quickly and I resumed my early morning ritual. It was the Sunday, my routine day to meet my girlfriend. Chandan never liked my staying with her for prolonged durations and never hesitated to draw my attention to my studies, accusing me of becoming too casual, even though he himself rarely sat down with his own books. Fully aware that my responsibilities did not include arranging food but rather commenced once the meal celebration concluded, I took a quick bath and prepared myself by 9 AM, then hastened to the girls' hostel. As I mentioned earlier, there were no mobile phones available, so I had to approach the gatekeeper of the hostel and provide him with the name. He would then shout the name at the top of hisvoice to ensure it reached the intended recipient, regardless of which room or floor she resided on in this three-story building. That act was slightly embarrassing. However, as I reflect on those days now, I realize that we were not as sensitive about unnecessary self-dignity back then. Hearing common news about kids not hesitating to cause self-harm after receiving a minor scolding or offences these days makes me appreciate our past even more.

As the name of the person I was looking for was loudly declared, one of my classmates, another girl standing behind the gate whom I hadn't noticed, sensed my presence and peered out to find me. Everyone in the girls' hostel knew me and with whom I talked, as I was a frequent visitor. She stepped forward and began chatting with me in a very casual manner, as one would with a friend. Meanwhile, my girlfriend arrived and offered to give up her claim to our time together, trying to portray herself as broad-minded. However, the recent events in the hostel were fresh in my mind. Since I had no history of cheating on any girls, I wasn't afraid of that soul, and I didn't want to jeopardize my advantageous position.

I paid no special attention to my friend and greeted my girlfriend with such a smile, my friend chose to leave us in a hurry. Only then my girlfriend showed her true colour and warned of dire consequences, dared if I wished to cheat her. I didn't understand why I was drawn to such statements back then. Was it because they made me feel special in someone's eyes, or did I simply lack a sense of self-respect?

We stood beneath a tin-thatched roof by the gate on a scorching summer day, where perhaps a makeshift shop hadonce stood. While she undoubtedly had access to recent events in the boys' hostel, given their proximity to my room, she still sought to hear them directly from me. In today's digital age, we might have exchanged countless photos and comments via WhatsApp, inadvertently distancing ourselves from the present moment in the name of connectivity and concern.

Being practically idle on Sunday morning, I saw no harm in recounting every detail of the recent events and narrating them to her. She offered her moral support to both me and my friend, while also whispering a few soothing words to calm our restless spirits. Time seemed to fly by in that noon, and when I glanced up, I noticed something that unmistakably reminded me that lunchtime had already passed. From the gate of the girls' hostel, one could easily see the roof of my hostel. There was Chandan, holding his sandal in one hand and gesturing to me with his mouth and hand, clearly expressing deep dissatisfaction. Though I couldn't hear his voice from that distance, I understood his gestures perfectly. As I locked eyes with Chandan, my girlfriend also noticed him and became highly offended. She began urging me to leave for my hostel, despite my attempts to reassure her by emphasizing that Chandan was just a friend, a true one.

I knew that even as he showed me sandals, the moment he spotted me, he would quickly warm food on the heater for me, with a stream of odd remarks escaping his lips, his emotions shifting between anger and sarcastic smile. As I made my way back to my hostel, a profound sense of contentment enveloped me. I reflected on the support system I had - people who cared for me, loved me, financially supported me, respected myauthority, and provided warm meals despite my doing little practically for them. It struck me how effortlessly my life was flourishing in every aspect, and I was also excelling in my studies.

I reached the hostel, and as expected, the usual phenomenon occurred with just one additional tweak - Neta joined Chandan in chorus. I enjoyed a warm and delicious meal, I found it easier to accept my friends' comments warmly as well. Following that, I took on the task of cleaning the dishes, a duty that fell squarely on my shoulders considering there was no room for respite after committing the 'heinous crime' of spending an extended hour visiting my girlfriend and distancing myself from such good friends. I knew my friends would always forgive me. After all, only God and a true friend have the power to grant forgiveness for all our sins.

The following day, Monday, arrived swiftly, and we plunged straight into it. Our room was positioned on the ground floor. Once through the main gate, a left turn guided you past the deserted dining hall, followed by a right turn, passing four rooms before arriving at ours. Chandan had a tendency to boisterously call out my name upon entering the hostel gate, paying little mind to whether I was present or if it disturbed others.

However, nobody ever complained because they cherished witnessing our bond, revelling in the joyous camaraderie shared among my three closest friends, none of whom had a girlfriend except for me. This fact further allowed us to spend time together. They never truly appreciated my unique position as the only one among us with a girlfriend. It was only because of me that they had spared my girlfriend from any criticism. Otherwise, there was a possibility that they would have blamed her formisleading and mesmerizing me. In their eyes, I was no less than a jewel of a boy, and they believed that no girl on earth could match me.

In the dead of another night, I was abruptly awoken by the familiar sound of banging on our door, accompanied by what seemed like a scream. It had to be Sukumar. Hastily, I made my way to the door and flung it open. Sukumar stood before me, trembling violently like a dry twig caught in a fierce storm, his screams echoing through the hallway. Flanking him were his roommates, Pradosh and Aditya. The commotion drew the attention of other hostel inmates, prompting some adjacent doors to swing open as curious onlookers peered at us.

"She's going to kill me! The same girl I saw today. It's her, I'm sure of it!" Sukumar's voice reverberated off the walls as he spoke in panicked desperation, while his roommates stood by, seemingly unaware of the situation.

"Did you see her attempt to harm you in any way?" I questioned, hoping to grasp some understanding of the situation. Neta, however, interjected with a counterpoint. "Don't you know? Female spirits often carry out their killings with a smile, feigning affection."

Neta's words sent a shiver down my spine as I realized the gravity of his belief. In local folklore, it was often said that female spirits, with their beguiling smiles and feigned affection, were particularly adept at carrying out their nefarious deeds.

Suddenly, another realization hit me like a ton of bricks - it was Tuesday night, the same night as the previous incident. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed. Exactly a week had passed, and here we were, faced with a repetitive occurrence of supernatural events on a specific day of the week, with a specific person whom I didn'twant to doubt. Even I could feel my courage wavering in the face of this inexplicable phenomenon.

The weight of the previous night lingered into the next morning, casting a shadow over almost all of us. Every possible effort was made to keep the female ghost at bay. Ensuring Sukumar's wellbeing remained paramount. Later in the day, Aditya urgently approached me, revealing that he had spoken to a local student who claimed to know a necromancer. He suggested taking Sukumar to meet him, and despite my scepticism, I couldn't find a valid reason to object. Aditya borrowed a bicycle from one of his classmates, and along with the local boy's guidance, they took Sukumar to the necromancer. None of the four of us accompanied them, due to non-availability of cycles. Upon their return, I received an update.

Aditya described how an eerie stillness hung in the air as they approached the secluded abode of the necromancer. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of incense and the faint whisper of unseen spirits. Upon reaching the dilapidated hut, they were greeted by the necromancer, his weathered face etched with lines of mystery. His piercing gaze seemed to penetrate the depths of their souls, as if he could discern their innermost fears and desires with a single glance. Yet, despite the foreboding aura that surrounded him, there was a strange sense of calm in his presence, as if he held the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe.

Sukumar held onto a small amulet in his right hand, a trinket we had never deemed significant before. Upon hearing their account, the necromancer appeared to take no significant action except advising Sukumar to remove the amulet. Surprisingly, I found myself growing in trust towards him, possibly because he didn't propose any elaborate ritual orattempt to instil fear in us, as I had anticipated. As the week unfolded, we all stayed alert, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the next Tuesday. The sense of anticipation and unease persisted among us, leaving us to wonder what awaited us.

Then came Tuesday, and we gathered everything we could think of in the room where Sukumar had been frightened. We arranged an iron rod, a knife, items to start a fire, a carom board, playing cards, and plenty of puffed rice and snacks to keep us company throughout the night. After dinner, we locked our room and moved to theirs for the night. I requested to be allowed to sleep, assuring them that if any danger arose, I would be at their disposal. While they played carom and cards, munching on puffed rice and snacks, time passed, and I remained asleep, though on high alert. Somehow, I felt confident that we wouldn't encounter her. The night unfolded without any untoward incident.

In the following weeks, we proceeded with extra caution every Tuesday night. Despite our attempts to maintain a facade of composure, there lingered an underlying tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unseen threat that loomed over us. Our minds raced with conjecture, each passing night heightening our apprehension as we awaited the possibility of another encounter with the unknown. However, the unsettling event did not recur. After three to four weeks, we began to feel normal again, although occasional discussions and references to our neighbour would still arise.

As Sukumar bid farewell to the hostel upon completing his course, he took leave from me and the others. I watched him glance towards the large peepal tree through the window of my room, as if silently saying something. Perhaps it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

That year,I ranked first in the university in the post-graduation course of chemistry and was awarded the gold medal. Even now, as I reminisce about those moments, I find myself yearning to relive those days once more. I often find myself repeating, "No one should be friendless."