EPISODE 3: Aritri - The LR?

They were standing on the cold floor of the common room, back straight, eyes forward, hands at the back. The fans overhead made a soft creaking sound, but no one dared shift.

The third-years had made it clear: this wasn’t a chat. This was orientation, their way.

The first-years had expected a little teasing maybe — the usual stories they’d heard. Instead, they got instructions. Protocols. A system older than them, upheld by sheer tradition and silent threats.

The hostel rules had been recited like law —

no shorts, no t-shirts, no roaming around in pairs, no visible attitude —

the tone changed again.

Now came the part about college.

A senior with a calm but piercing voice stood up. She hadn’t spoken until now. She didn’t need to — her presence was already heavy.

“You may think you’ve arrived. But you’re not students yet. You’re first-years. And there’s a way first-years exist on this campus.”

Aritri felt the words more than she heard them. They weren’t aggressive. They were factual. Delivered with an authority that didn’t care for opinions.

Aritri glanced around, eyes low. Some girls were visibly shrinking into themselves. One had her fists clenched in her lap.

1. Dress code - Knee length kurti and legging ONLY, no denims,no T-shirts,no Tops or Short kurti are allowed. Those who don't have can borrow it from friends or batchmates

2. Hairs must be tied properly either in ponytail for short hairs only and plait for long hairs mandatorily.

3. All buttons of the White coat must be buttoned

4. Breakfast time - around 8:15 am, it is expected that we all go together for breakfast in a unity

5. Dinner time - 8:15pm

6. Make sure we greet (good morning, good afternoon & good evening) to our senior whenever and where ever we see them irrespective of the count of wishes

7. All female seniors are to be addressed as MA'AM and senior sir's with BOSS

8. Avoid eye contact with seniors

9. No make up is allowed

10. We are not supposed to roam outside the campus, and if there is any emergency or requirement inform warden mam or any senior and then go.

11. In mess wait for seniors to have dinner or lunch or breakfast first as they have to leave for lectures and reach on time.

12. Don't forget to flush the washrooms after using it and try to keep it clean and well maintained (the washrooms, wash basins and bathrooms) as you will share amongst yourselves so it must be suitable for the next person to use after you.

13. Try to avoid interaction with boys (both batchmates and seniors)

14. No loud laughter. No makeup. No clicking pictures in corridors like tourists. You’re here to survive, not shine.

The senior stopped. Let the silence breathe for a moment.

“If anyone breaks this... your whole batch faces it.”

That landed hard.

Then, as if the weather shifted, a new senior stepped forward. She wore glasses.

“We’re assigning LRs for this batch,” she said plainly. “We’ve picked one. It’s final.”

She looked down at the list.

“Aritri Debsharma.”

Heads turned slightly. A few necks craned.

Aritri didn’t flinch.

She stood slowly, eyes lowered, hands by her side.

“Ma’am,” she said, voice steady, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be LR.”

A hush.

One of the louder third-years barked a dry laugh.

“You think this is optional?”

Aritri’s voice stayed even.

“With due respect, I’d rather not speak on behalf of others. I’ll follow rules. But I won’t be LR.”

No drama. No trembling. No mockery in her tone.

Just refusal — plain and unapologetic.

That’s what made it sting.

The senior with the clipboard looked at her for a long moment. Not angry. Not even disappointed. Just... curious.

Like she was recalibrating something.

Then she said, almost amused,

“Let’s see how long you last.”

She turned.

“You may all leave.”

The tension cracked — students scrambled to their feet, still quiet, still controlled.

Aritri was nearly at the door when the voice came again:

“Aritri Debsharma. Stay back.”

It was her. The LR senior.

Not mocking. Not raising her voice. Just... stating it.

The others froze. Aritri didn’t. She turned back. No reaction.

“Close the door behind you.”

She hesitated just a moment. Enough to register the weight of it. Then her fingers gripped the doorknob. The room behind her went silent. And she shut the door.

To be continued