Episode 05 : The decision isn't hers

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled Room S10 as early sunlight crept through the half-open curtains. Aritri lay on her side, eyes half-open, blanket pulled up to her chin.

Across from her, Pragya was already up, hair tied messily, scrolling through her phone while sipping from a water bottle. She didn’t look up.

Aritri quietly sat up and reached for her towel. She paused for a second, waiting for Pragya to maybe say something. But nothing came.

She walked to the washroom.

By the time she returned, Pragya was almost ready.

"Anatomy 9 baje hai na?" Pragya asked, not looking up.

Aritri nodded slightly. “Hmm. Just give me 5 mins, sath mei niklenge"

Pragya nodded as she sat down in her bed and started scrolling through her socials.

By 8:45, they stepped out of S10 together, looking for other batchmates.

They reached at mess and had their seats.

The mess hall buzzed with the usual morning chaos—metal trays clattering, tea being poured, hurried footsteps of first years trying to stay in line. Aritri and Pragya entered just as a group of seniors exited laughing—one of them dressed in loose denims and a black tank top, her sunglasses perched confidently on her head.

Pragya nudged Aritri subtly.
“Woh dekha?” she whispered, her voice tight with a mix of awe and fear.
Aritri nodded as they moved past their seniors after wishing them.

The first-years, however, had no such freedom regarding dress code.

Aritri paused for a second, watching the girls in front of her adjust their kurtas and fix their hair hastily.

Aritri gave a small sigh and walked ahead alone, deliberately slowing so she wouldn’t end up next to Pragya.

They found scattered empty seats. Aritri sat across from a quiet girl she hadn't met before. Pragya sat two places away.

Just as Aritri had taken the first bite of her poha, a voice rang out behind her.

“Excuse me... You, red kurti.”

Aritri turned, half-expecting it.

Samaira.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the mess like a scalpel. Neatly dressed in a navy blue tee and straight-fit cargo pants, Samaira didn’t need to raise her voice to command attention.

Aritri stood up reflexively.

“Ji, ma’am?”

Samaira took a step closer. “Thoda smile karo, darawani statue kyun bani ho? Aur wish kaun karega? "

" Sorry mam, good morning mam. " Aritri said looking down as per protocols.

There were a few chuckles from nearby tables. Aritri gave a small, nervous smile, unsure if this was going to be a casual taunt or something more.

“Hmm. Better.” Samaira gave a faint nod.

Laughter followed again. Aritri looked down but managed a better smile this time.

Samaira gave a last look and said, “ Meet me after college "

With that, she turned and left, her stride easy, confident.

Aritri sat down slowly. Her ears were burning but somewhere, a part of her found the interaction oddly familiar—like being caught doing something wrong, then gently scolded, then let go. Like home.

She resumed eating in silence, her eyes fixed on her plate, but her mind on Samaira’s last words. “ Meet me after college "

......................................................

The courtyard air felt different today. Tighter.

Aritri had thought yesterday’s conversation was the end of it. A warning maybe. A test, at most. But the silence that followed had felt too calm — and calm was deceptive here.

4:15 PM — Same courtyard, different tension

Samaira was already there when Aritri arrived.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Rivanika, her friend stood next to her — arms folded, face unreadable, the kind of silence that didn’t mean neutrality, but judgment.

“Sit,” Samaira said.

Not a suggestion. A command. Aritri obeyed.

Samaira didn’t waste time. “You said no. I respected it. Now I’m telling you — that option’s gone.”

Aritri blinked, stunned. “But… why ask me then?”

“Because I thought you’d have the sense to say yes without needing to be dragged into it.”

“I never signed up for—”

“No one here signs up. This isn’t a fest committee or a debate club. This is the hierarchy that keeps this mess running. Your batch is a storm of hundred different egos with zero filters. You think we’ll leave that unsupervised? The boys' CR is already chosen. Now you have to take the responsibility for the 52 girls. ”

Aritri clenched her jaw. “There are others. People who want this. Let them.”

Samaira stepped closer. “Exactly why they shouldn’t get it.”

Aritri didn’t flinch, but the words pierced.

Rivanika finally spoke. “You think being LR is about a badge? It’s about being the first one to get shouted at when your batch screws up. The one who cleans up after other people’s tantrums. The one who’ll have to learn how to shut up in front of authority and scream at your friends — without losing both.”

Aritri stared at the floor. “I don’t want to be hated.”

“Too late,” Samaira said, lips curling into something darker than a smile. “Half your batch already hates you because you didn’t bow that day.”

“You think they wouldn’t have mocked me if I had?”

“They would have. That’s the point. You’re already damned. Might as well make it useful.”

Aritri swallowed. The weight in her throat wasn’t fear. It was inevitability.

“What if I say no again?” she asked.

Samaira leaned forward. “Then someone else will get it. Someone dumber. Louder. Easier to control. And you will still be blamed when it all burns.”

Rivanika added, “And when the faculty starts scolding and your group gets punished, don’t expect us to shield you. We only protect the ones who take the fall when told.”

Silence.

It stretched long.

Finally, Aritri spoke, voice low but steady.

“…Then what do I have to do?”

Samaira straightened. “Good girl.”

Back in the hostel – 5:45 PM

Pragya looked up from her laptop. “You okay?”

Aritri sat on the bed, opened her bottle, and took a long sip before answering.

“They made me LR.”

Pragya didn’t blink. “I knew they would.”

“I didn’t agree. They just… did it.”

Pragya smirked. “Welcome to med school. Consent is optional.”

Aritri lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She wasn’t afraid of the title anymore. She was afraid of what it might turn her into.