Episode 04 : Samaira Sen

The air outside the common room had cooled, but inside, tension simmered like a pressure cooker just before the whistle. The last of the freshers exited in silence — spines straight, eyes low.

Except one.

“Debsharma. Stay back.”

The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Samaira Sen, third-year LR, had that effect. Her words sliced through the air like a cold scalpel. Even those halfway down the corridor paused — instinctively knowing this wasn’t casual.

Pragya turned for a brief second, lips parting in what could’ve been a warning or a goodbye. But she didn’t speak. Aritri gave her a small nod — not reassurance, not fear. Just... readiness.

The door shut behind the last fresher. Silence pressed against the walls.

Samaira stood near the wooden table, arms folded, watching.

“Do you know why I asked you to stay?”

Aritri’s throat tightened. “Because I looked you in the eye.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Samaira’s mouth. “That’s part of it.”

She took a step forward. “You think this whole interaction is pointless. You think we’re archaic relics clinging to imagined power. I can smell it off you — that defiance.”

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” Aritri said, steady.

“You don’t get to define respect yet. Not here. Not now.”

Samaira’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re sharp. You observe. But you’re loud — in silence and in speech. You don’t know when to let things go.”

“I don’t believe in fear-based obedience.”

“This isn’t fear. It’s filtration. Medicine doesn’t wait for the ones who take their time adjusting. We’re not your tormentors. We’re your unwanted guardians. And this… this is your initiation.”

Aritri’s fists were tight at her sides. “I didn’t ask for guardians.”

“No one does. But in a place that crushes you from day one, we’re the ones who teach you how to survive it. And sometimes, that means breaking you down first. To see if you can rebuild.”

The room pulsed with a silence that wasn’t empty — it was full of unspoken rules.

“You were being considered for LR.”

Aritri blinked.

Samaira didn’t blink back. “Yes. We see things before you see them in yourself. You’ve got presence. You influence people. But you lack control.”

“I don’t want it,” Aritri said. “I didn’t come here to play games of power.”

Samaira tilted her head, almost amused. “It’s not a game. It’s a structure. If you don’t hold the leash, someone else will. And they may not care what happens to the batch.”

“I won’t be someone’s puppet.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t pick a puppet.”

Aritri’s pulse thudded in her ears. Samaira stepped closer — not threatening, but undeniable.

“You’ll either learn to lead them, or you’ll learn what happens when you let someone weaker do it. And by the time you regret it, it’ll be too late.”

Aritri swallowed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Smart girl.”

Samaira walked to the door, paused, and without turning, said:

“But remember, Debsharma — you’re not special. Not yet. Potential is only useful if you convert it.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Back in Room S10, the lights were dim. The fan rotated slowly, dragging its shadow across the ceiling like a second hand ticking too loud.

Pragya sat cross-legged, watching her roommate silently walk in.

“What happened?” she asked offering a glass of water.

Aritri didn’t answer immediately. She sat on her bed, and drank the water.

“She offered me LR.”

Pragya blinked. “again?”

“Apparently I’ve got ‘presence’. Whatever the hell that means.”

Aritri leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

“I told her I didn’t come here to play chess. I came to heal people.”

Pragya looked at her from the corner of her eye. “But chess is your hobby.”

Aritri froze, then looked up sharply. “How do you know that?”

“You mumbled something about a Sicilian Defence during orientation when that assistant was saying something in the anatomy demonstration room”

Aritri gave a reluctant smile. “You’re observant.”

“I’m quiet. People ignore the quiet ones.”

Aritri sat up. “She said if I don’t take control, someone else will. Someone weaker.”

“She’s not wrong,” Pragya said. “And she’s not testing your obedience — she’s testing your instincts.”

Aritri was silent for a long moment. “Would you have said yes?”

“I wouldn’t have been offered,” Pragya said simply. “I don’t disturb patterns. I just… document them.”

Aritri tilted her head. “You’re not afraid of leadership. You just don’t need the attention.”

Pragya didn’t reply. Instead, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

Aritri didn’t answer. She just lay back again, watching the fan spin shadows above them.