Lunch was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of cutlery and chatter had given way to stiff silence. The argument in the TV hall still hung heavy in the air, invisible but undeniable. People sat in tight cliques, eyes avoiding each other. Nila ate her rice and curry without speaking a word. Even the sound of her steel tumbler felt too loud.
As soon as she finished, she walked back alone to the hostel. The corridors were buzzing with tension—girls were running back and forth between bays, hurriedly stuffing packets into pillow covers, stuffing letters into diaries, and slamming cupboard doors shut.
"Inspection," someone whispered as they rushed past.
But when Nila entered her own bay, it was as if she had stepped into another world. No one was running or panicking. There was no rush of feet or hissed instructions.
Shivani di was sitting calmly at her table, a pen in hand, head bent over a notebook. She was wearing a soft grey kurta and had tied her hair up neatly. Her expression was relaxed, as if she were writing an evening journal rather than a last-minute assignment.
Nila paused at the doorway, surprised. The quietness of the bay wrapped around her like a blanket. She tiptoed in and sat on her bed.
"You're back early," Shivani di said without looking up. Her voice was gentle, like someone used to being listened to.
"Hmm," Nila replied. "Lunch was awkward."
"I guessed," Shivani di smiled briefly. "This happens every year. People fight over TV channels, and then pretend to hate each other for a week."
Nila smiled back faintly, already feeling more at ease. She pulled out the Mahabharata book she had gotten as a complimentary gift from the school. It was a collection focusing on five key characters from the epic. Today, she chose to read about Kunti.
In her past life, she had read the Mahabharata once, but it had felt overwhelming—too many names, too many battles. But this time, something about Kunti's quiet strength pulled her in.
Outside, the hostel sounded like a warzone. Inside, the bay was calm. And inside that calm, Nila felt herself open to reflection.
I tried reading.
I really did.
Kunti's silence was compelling. Her fire was quiet but fierce—the kind that reminded me of Amma sometimes. I was halfway through the second story in the collection when the noise outside my cabin reached a new volume, followed by a loud thud and nervous giggles. That was the end of my concentration.
People were rushing around like the floor had turned into lava. Bags were being yanked open, bedsheets flipped, cubbyholes dug into like they hid treasure. Everyone was in full-blown emergency mode. The reason? A rumored inspection.
Shivani di was sitting across from me, writing something in her notebook. She didn't even flinch when someone outside yelled, "Where's the zip-lock cover, da?"
Shivani di looked up at me once, raised an eyebrow at the noise, and smirked before returning to her assignment.
But then curiosity got the better of me. I quietly put down the Mahabharata and peeked out.
Two girls were crouched near the bathroom with their backs to me, whispering urgently.
"No, no, not inside the flush!" one of them hissed.
"Arey! It's waterproof now. I sealed it in two zip-locks. Nothing will happen."
They were hiding mobile phones inside the flush compartment, believing the water-filled tank would be the last place wardens would dare to check. Honestly? Smart. Risky. But smart.
Another girl was stuffing something under a disgusting bundle of socks. Dirty socks. A whole colony of them.
"They'll never touch it. Even I don't touch it," she grinned.
In another corner, two girls had found a slim gap behind the built-in cupboard—a slit so narrow that nothing bigger than a pencil box could fit. And still, they were trying to squeeze in a paperback novel.
The pink-orange spine peeked out for a second—The 3 Mistakes of My Life by Chetan Bhagat. I had read it in my last life when I was much younger than I was supposed to. Everyone around me at school had raved about it as if it were sacred literature. No wonder it was banned here.
I leaned against the doorframe and watched in silence.
Soon, some eyes turned to me. A few whisper-huddles and nudges later, one of the girls, Varsha, came up to me.
"Nila, you're new here, no? Clean record. Teachers like you. Can we keep one thing in your cupboard just for today?"
Another chimed in, "It's just a book. No electronics or anything."
I hesitated. I didn't want to get involved. I had no idea how strict the inspection would be, and risking my space—my only safe space—was not worth it.
"I don't think—" I began.
"Come on, don't be such a goody-goody," one girl cut in. "Do you think you'll make friends here without taking any risks?"
That one stung a little.
"I don't want anything to happen to my stuff," I said as politely as I could. "And if you're sure it won't be found, you can find other places too."
Another girl narrowed her eyes. "You'll just watch everyone get caught? That's so selfish."
Before I could respond, Shivani di spoke.
"I don't want anything hidden inside this cabin."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the entire bay like thunder. The girls turned to look at her, startled.
For a second, they seemed to forget who she was. Then realization dawned.
"Oh... she's the bay leader," one of them whispered.
"I said what I said," Shivani di repeated. "If you want to hide something, don't involve others. And definitely not someone who doesn't want to be part of it."
That shut everyone up. The girls mumbled an apology and scattered. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
A minute later, one of them returned—not to push me, but hesitantly.
"Actually... you seem smart," she said awkwardly. "Do you have any ideas? Somewhere else to hide it?"
Now that was different.
I thought for a second, and then said, "You know those sanitary pad boxes in our hygiene shelf? Take a pad, open the flap carefully, slip a slim book or paper inside, and re-glue it. No one's going to open a used packet."
She blinked. "You're scary."
Another girl joined, and I continued, almost enjoying it now.
"You can also use your dirty laundry bag. Just roll the thing inside a set of pajamas and tie it with a hair band like it's nothing."
They nodded, impressed.
"If it's something tiny, like a pen drive or key, hollow out a talcum powder tin and stuff it inside. Or use that stitched lining in the dupatta folds."
The girls gave me a look that said: we underestimated you.
I smiled lightly and went back inside. Shivani di glanced up, and for the first time, she smiled too.
"You're quick," she said.
"I observe," I replied, picking up my book again.
Outside, the chaos continued, but inside, it was calm. I flipped back to Kunti's story, but my mind lingered on the strange thrill I'd just felt. I didn't help hide anything, but I helped them think better. Somehow, that didn't feel wrong. It felt... strategic.
And maybe, in this second chance at life, being clever mattered just as much as being good.
The shrill whistle pierced through the hallway.
Not once. Not twice. Three sharp blasts. Everyone froze.
That was the warden's way of saying Settle down. Inspection is starting.
Like clockwork, the bay turned from chaos to a haunted silence. Slippers shuffled into neat rows. Bedcovers were pulled tight and tucked in like hotel corners. The energy shifted from panic to fear.
I quickly folded the Mahabharata and slipped it under my pillow—not hidden, but just kept safely away. My hands were steady. My heart was not.
There were still ten cots before mine. Ten cots. Ten tense inspections. And then… me.
From my place, I could hear the warden barking orders. "Open everything. Bags. Drawers. Toiletries. Pillow covers. Fold your dupattas."
She moved like a storm, flipping through notebooks, unzipping cases, and giving suspicious looks to even innocent pencil pouches.
In the third cot she checked, she found a Chetan Bhagat book.
She held it up like it was contraband.
"Whose is this?" she demanded.
The girl confessed, murmuring something about forgetting to hide it.
Usually, in cases like this, they gave a warning. Maybe a temporary confiscation. But today… she wasn't in the mood.
"You won't get this back," she said coldly. "You people think we don't know what you bring. From today, anything we find, you will never see again."
The air became thick with dread.
Another cot. Another find. A hidden pendrive. A folded paper with a boy's name scribbled across it.
Each time, the warden's anger increased. She wasn't just inspecting. She was collecting proof. And punishing.
By the seventh cot, people had already started murmuring prayers under their breath.
Even the most confident girls were sitting stiffly on their beds, hands on laps, eyes low.
I glanced at Shivani di. She gave me a small nod—barely there, but enough. Her presence gave me courage. But still, my stomach twisted.
Nine cots done.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
The warden stepped to the next.
Ten.
She was one cot away.
I swallowed.
Next was mine.