Episode 2 : Counselling Chaos and First Impressions

Aritri was not the kind of girl who cried in public.
But that day, something broke inside her.

It wasn’t the noise of the crowd at the counselling centre, or the blaring announcements in that dusty college auditorium. It wasn’t even the heat. It was the simple, soft text message on her cracked phone screen:
“Congratulations. You’ve been allotted MBBS seat in…”

Her fingers trembled. She blinked.

“Ma… ma! Dekho! Mujhe mil gaya! Finally ma, i can call myself medico. ” she gasped, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

Her mother didn’t respond right away. She was praying. Eyes shut, palms pressed to her forehead. When she did open them, they brimmed with disbelief.

“Sach? Paka? Bol toh sahi college ka naam—”

And that was that. The rest of the afternoon melted into blurry smiles, selfies with worn documents, tea-stained photocopies, medical fitness certificates that smelt of Dettol, and names—so many names of so many hopefuls.

Two weeks later.

The college gates stood like silent giants. Ancient, weather-stained, unimpressed by the swarm of students dragging trolley bags like first-time travellers.

Aritri clutched the brown envelope with her admission slip inside. Her duffel bag dug into her shoulder, and the neck of her water bottle clanked against it like a rebellious bell. She looked left, then right. Where was the hostel warden?

A voice barked from the side:
“First years, line mein khade raho! Girls’ hostel allotment idhar hai!”

She stumbled into the line, muttering sorry to a girl with tight braids and sharp eyes. Behind her, a mother was shouting instructions to her daughter in Telugu. Ahead, someone sniffled, already homesick.

And then the roll call began.

“Roll 43, Aritri Debsharma—Room S10. 2nd floor. Two-seater.”

She didn’t react for a second. Two-seater meant less crowd. Less chance of being unnoticed. Less mess.

Or more intimacy?

“Chalo beta, le lo keys. Warden madam se mil lena.”

Room S10 — Girls’ Hostel

It smelled like the ghosts of past students. Naphthalene balls. Burnt mosquito coil. Bleach.

Aritri entered, slowly scanning the space: two steel cots with green plastic mattresses, a rusted ceiling fan, one window with half the mosquito net dangling, and two wooden desks.

The other bed already had a bag on it. So she wasn’t the first one in.

And just then, a girl walked in—of almost same height, wheatish, with a confident jawline and maroon Converse shoes that screamed I know who I am.

She stopped at the door, narrowed her eyes at Aritri.

“Tum hi Aritri ho?” she asked.

Aritri nodded.

The girl extended her hand, without smiling. “Hi. Pragya. Bihar.”

Aritri shook it gently. “West Bengal,” she replied, adjusting the duffel on her back.

“Cool. Let’s not do that thing where we act fake-friendly and overshare in the first five minutes. Tum settle ho jao pehle,” Pragya said, casually pulling out a packet of chips from her bag.

"Logi?" She asked as she offered.

Aritri smiled taking 2 chips, "Thanks"

Aritri blinked. Okay then. This was new.

Evening, Room S10 – Girls’ Hostel

Aritri sat on the edge of her bed- tired after a long day, knees drawn up, watching the slow spin of the rusted fan above. Its blades cut through the heavy evening air like a tired old warrior. Her teddy bear sat quietly beside her pillow, one ear slightly bent — a quiet anchor from her sister, smuggled in with teasing and love.

She wasn’t nervous. Not exactly.

More like… alert.

Like walking through an unfamiliar forest where nothing had hurt her yet — but everything could.

She wasn’t scared. Just not stupid.

She noticed the little things.

How the corridor lights flickered at intervals, timed almost with the hum of the fan.

How Pragya took two seconds longer to unlock her phone every time — was it fingerprint not working, or just muscle memory?

How none of the seniors had shown up yet — but the air already held their presence, like a faint perfume lingering long after someone’s left the room.

She caught herself smiling at the thought.

It was a strange moment to be alive.

She doesn't know why she likes so much to observe things - but that's what it is.

Pragya suddenly pulled her earphone out. “Hostel ka food try kiya?”

Aritri shook her head. “I got chips from the train. Not hungry yet.”

Pragya nodded. “Smart. Raat ka khana disaster tha. Aloo sabzi with identity crisis.”

They both laughed softly. Then a knock came on the door. Both looked at each other. The knock was not loud. Not soft. Three short taps.

None moved.

Another knock. This time, firmer.

Pragya rose, casual but not careless, and opened the door halfway. A girl stood outside — maybe senior? Messy bun, , in casual tshirt and shorts, holding a steel water bottle.

She didn’t speak right away. Just scanned the room — one glance — then said, voice syrupy-sweet:

“Newbies. Cute. Names?”

“Pragya,” said her roommate.

“Aritri,” came her own voice, quieter than she intended.

“Hmm. I’m Devika Mam. 2nd year. You’ll get to know us. We’ll get to know you. For now, no roaming in corridors after 9, Go to college in knee length kurtis, no makeup, wish every senior- mam and boss. No didi bhaiya. And yes abhi max chutti pe hai, you can reach when you need help. Bas respect karna and follow the rules. Otherwise…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Just smiled — the kind of smile that came with unwritten rules and unspoken consequences.

“Noted, Mam,” Pragya replied.

Aritri nodded silently.

The door closed.

A beat passed.

Then Pragya turned. “Bas ab start ho gaya.”

“kya?”

“The slow ragging. The territorial inspection. All of it. Abhi toh sirf gentle warning diya hai. Wait till classes start. Then real show begins.”

Aritri didn’t flinch. Instead, she folded her towel neatly and placed it over the bedpost.

Let it begin.

---

Next morning – Orientation Day

The campus felt like a maze of buildings too proud to give directions. Aritri walked behind a group of other freshers, her ID card swinging from her neck, the tag still stiff from packaging.

The auditorium was packed again — just like the counselling day.

As the dean began his welcome speech, Aritri scanned the crowd—not the teachers, not even the speaker—but the faces of the batchmates around her.

Some were trying too hard to look cool. Some looked like they might cry if someone so much as bumped into them.

She didn’t want to be either.

This place was going to be more than just books and studies.

It was already beginning to write itself like a story she wasn’t sure she understood yet — but was definitely part of.

---

Back in Room S10 that night

Pragya was brushing her hair. “Lagta hai tum mei dum hai,” she said suddenly.

Aritri looked up. “Kyun?”

“Tum chup ho, lekin kuch alag si ho, don't take it otherwise. Mai hostel mei reh chuki hu preparation ke time isliye bas laga.”

Aritri smiled faintly. “Observation mutual.”

They didn’t need to say much after that. Silence could be friendship, too.

Outside, someone was knocking on another door — more urgent this time.

Aritri noted the rhythm.

It had begun.

On opening, it was maybe a girl from her own batch only.

" 3rd years bulaye hai, 5 min mei ready hoke common area mei aao"