Room No. 904?

By Shivani Singhal

It is a beautiful romantic story of Tamanna who falls for a guy on the very first day of her college. She has come to Delhi to take admission in a law school. Luckily, she gets a room in the college hostel. But is she really lucky? Why does everyone start misbehaving with her? She constantly falls in trouble. Her crush notices her. But right after their first meeting, he starts ignoring her, too. Why?

What will happen in her love story? Is all this because of her hostel room 904? What is wrong with Room No. 904? Will Tamanna end up with that guy in the end? Get immersed in this beautiful and nail-biting college journey of Tamanna. See why is her hostel room no. 904 so special? What secrets is it hiding and will they change Tamanna’s life in a good or a bad way?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Sep 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543703757

Shivani Singhal

Shivani Singhal is a Law Postgraduate from Delhi and planning to do Ph.D. in Law. To satisfy her penchant for writing, she made her Facebook and Instagram page “Loveforprose” in her final year of the college. She uploaded motivating quotes and short stories on her page and soon gained a lot of popularity with 45K followers.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

W hile standing in the line, I hear the susurration of two sweeper didis on my right, standing beside the wide-open window, nearly fifteen steps away from me. I can’t construe the words of their conversation, but I am getting a weird hunch that whatever the topic of their conversation is, it has something to do with me.

The first girl in the queue looks a little pissed off after her brief talk with the warden, and she scuttles, dragging her heavy luggage behind the reception desk, towards the staircase on the right.

Now, I am the third girl in the line. This whole place is giving me the creeps and my journey in this hostel hasn’t even started. I do not know how I am going to spend five years of my life in this place. I have never lived away from home. Oh! That isn’t my home, though it was for quite some time. At least, it has my memories of Mummy and Papa. I need to shun this thought immediately before tears mist my eyes.

I am not in a mood to have any conversation with anyone right now. I want to be in my room, with no light, covered by my quilt and weeping peacefully. But no, I can’t do that because I am approximately five hundred miles away from my home in Srinagar, which has my room, a place where I was comfortable, where I could spend the rest of my life sobbing peacefully. But that wench brought me here. I am sorry, Papa. I know you don’t like it, me abusing your sister, but what a shameless sister. I will never do anything in my life that will hurt you or disgrace your impeccable image.

The girl before me scoots, bursting my bubble of thoughts. This warden with frizzy hair, nearly 45 years old, doesn’t look concerned about anyone’s business. She makes me swallow the big lump in my throat just by her single glance cast at me from underneath her sleek spectacles.

‘Form,’ she croaks. I swear, if I were blind, her voice would make me think her to be a snarky old man.

I plop the documents in a second on her desk, but still, she rubbernecks at me before looking down at the papers. She is giving me gooseflesh.

She looks up again; her face is devoid of all the happiness in the world.

‘Where is the receipt of the draft submission? Have you ever submitted your draft? Look, if you haven’t, then let me tell you, I am starving here. It is lunchtime, and I am dying to eat something. Come to me tomorrow with the draft receipt.’ She doesn’t even give me the chance to open my mouth and stands up from her chair.

‘I have paid my hostel fees, and I have the receipt. It must have got between the papers. It is pink coloured. I swear it was there when I handed the documents to you.’ The words rush out of my mouth impetuously. I didn’t have any intention to raise my voice at her, but it rose.

She bends forward and bangs the desk. ‘Do not dare to raise your voice at me again. I can throw you out of this building in a minute. Trust me—I can do that! This is the first and last warning to you. You kids, I do not know where you come from, where you have done your schooling, and how your parents raised you.’ She keeps muttering.

Tears spring to my eyes and fall to my chin before I can wipe them. They roll down now, so easily. Maybe I am tired of holding them in.

She becomes quiet after seeing my hangdog face and sits back in her chair, making a screeching noise. She doesn’t look up again and starts doing nimbly some stapling, stamping, and scribbling on my documents.

I wipe my cheeks stealthily with my shoulders and do not dare to look around, as I am pretty sure everyone must be staring at me or pitying me or maybe laughing at my hangdog face. There is no one behind me waiting for their turn. But there are girls in the hall, around four on my right side and three on the left, with one sweeper didi.

She looks up again, without any feeling of guilt in her eyes for affronting me in front of everyone. Her eyes are diabolical.

‘Room no. 904,’ she squawks. Someone, on my right, huffs. She looks to her left and then right and then strenuously looks at me.

‘That’s the only room left in this building. I have no other vacant room to allot you. If you take this one, then you cannot apply to any other hostel until the semester is over. But if you want, you can withdraw your application for the hostel room. You will get your refund after doing some mandatory paperwork. Are you getting what I am saying?’ she says in a hoarse voice.

I didn’t get it. What does she mean? Does she not want me to take this particular room? I want to reply with a no, but not after the kind of hospitality she just graced me with.

‘Is something wrong with this room? You don’t want me to take it?’ I ask very politely.

Her face scrunches up. She looks baffled. I check my words in my mind. I didn’t say anything offensive.

She looks to her left at some woman, maybe at the junior warden or assistant warden.

‘Nothing is wrong with this room. It is just all snotty girls come to this particular building with their contemptuous attitude, only to annoy me to get their rooms changed because their friends’ rooms are on some other floor or the washroom on their floor is not hygienic for them to use or the location of their room is not pleasing enough. These are all very lame excuses which I do not entertain. That’s why I am informing you beforehand—this is the only room left in this building. Deal with it or leave it,’ she screams at me. What did I say to her? I am being very courteous to her. Why the hell is she condescending to me?

She picks up her things and trails off without looking at me. I am crying inside. I want to retort, ‘I don’t want to stay here. Give me my application back,’ but my voice would wobble.

I look around. Everyone is pitying me. They all saw it. How horrible this day is. How will I face them now? Everyone forges ahead with their work.

I drag my heavy luggage towards room no. 904. I choose to take the elevator, seeing the ninth floor. Two more girls tag along with me. They look sweet. The tall one stops my handbag from falling from my suitcase. The other girl is stumpy.

‘Which floor?’ the stumpy one asks me in a dulcet voice.

‘Ninth floor, please,’ I reply with a smile.

‘Oh! Even we are heading to the ninth floor,’ the stumpy one says. Then both of them look at each other and snigger.

‘My room number is 906, and hers is 908,’ the tall girl blathers.

‘Oh! Mine is 904. I have been allotted it, just.’ I speak enthusiastically.

Their faces turn pallid. They look at each other in astonishment.

‘What … what happened?’ I pry.

‘Nothing. It’s good,’ the tall girl replies stoically.

Their reaction was strange. Is something wrong with this room? I am feeling queasy now.

Neither of them is looking at me now. They are looking at one another from the corners of their eyes.

We are soon going to be on the ninth floor. My head is swirling. I am soon going to be outside that room. Why are these people behaving so outlandishly? Is that room haunted?

‘Can I ask you guys something?’ I finally break the silence.

The short girl doesn’t look at me this time, not even out of courtesy. The tall one shows some interest but as if forced to. I ignore their reactions and segue with my question.

‘Why were you people so disturbed to know my room number?’

‘No, no. We were not disturbed. We were surprised at what an unusual coincidence! Three of us meet at the elevator, have to go on the same floor, and even our rooms are on the same floor. How frequently does that happen?’ The stumpy one ripostes. I don’t understand what happened to her all of a sudden. She got so excited. It sounded strange not only to me but also to her friend. The tall one makes a face at her. She beetles her eyebrows at her and then turns to me with a stern look.

‘Look, we have nothing to do with this. So please do not drag us into it.’ Her reply appals me. It gives me a cold sweat.

‘Drag you into what? What am I into? Am I in some trouble I do not have any inkling of?’ I request them to answer me.

The doors of the elevator stand open, and both of them dash out, thrusting my luggage down. Their reaction breaks my heart.

‘This is so brusque, unwelcoming. But still, thank you,’ I blare to them drearily. They don’t even turn around to see me.

I drag my luggage out of the elevator. I do not have to haul it any farther as room no. 904 is right next to the elevator.

The room is only latched. There is no lock for it. Neither did they give me any key to open the door. It opens, squeaking, and I expect to see a lot of cobwebs and a room filled with a fug like the ones shown in horror movies.

Instead of entering straightaway, I hold the door wide open to have a complete view of the room and the knowledge of what I am getting into.

It seems fine, even freshly mopped. It’s a small room. It is my first time in a hostel. There is a wooden set of table and chair on my left side, then adjacent to it is a couch. Opposite to the couch is a single bed, or I can say it’s right in front of me. A wooden cupboard is affixed to the front wall, and there is a door to its right. There is no window in this room and also no whiffy smell of the vacant room; instead, it is reeking of the floor cleaner.

Another door maybe leads to the balcony. I will have my balcony; the thought excites me.

That excitement doesn’t take much time to fade away, as soon as I recall the flaky behaviour of the warden and of those two girls, who didn’t even introduce themselves to me or ask me my name. Just my room number was enough to drive them away from me.

I feel so jaded and affronted. I don’t have any more strength to bear anyone’s anger now. I want the solace. If I will have to be with ghosts to have that at this moment, then that is also fine with me right now. I, without contemplating more, step into the room with my luggage.

The lock of the room with the key is placed on the couch. Maybe, sweeper didi had opened the room to clean, and then forgot the lock on the couch while leaving.

I do not shut the door behind me; instead, I put my suitcase in between to keep the door from closing. I need to check the room first before getting comfortable here.

I open the door to check where it leads. Oh! Here is a net door too, and I got a balcony, but not a personal one. It’s a common balcony for all the rooms. Wow! I can enter any room from here, but only if the door is unlatched from the inside.

There is only one more room on my left side, then the balcony turns to the left. Right opposite to this building is the boys’ hostel. I can see through their closed net doors—can’t really see them, but yeah, they are visible there inside their rooms.

A boy is standing on his balcony, two floors below mine. I can’t make out the colour of his skin, but he is in some red loose T-shirt and shorts. He is rubbernecking at the basketball grounds, which are right between our buildings. There is no one on the grounds. Not everyone is an idiot like that boy and me, to stand in this searing heat. Though the sun is burning my skin, the breeze is cold here.

On the left side of this building is another building of the girls’ hostel. There is a swimming pool on the grounds and then another edifice of the boys’ hostel right opposite to the girls’ hostel. I can see the clothes—skirts, tops, jeans, bed sheets, and other kinds of stuff dangling on the railing of the girls’ hostel.

I look at that boy again, unintentionally this time. He is staring right at me and rubbing his crotch. Is he doing that on purpose? No, he can’t really see me from there. Oh! This is disgusting. I shoot back to my room immediately.

I completely forgot that my luggage is lying at the door. Anyone could have filched with my belongings, and I would not be able to trace them. I check the cupboard—there is nothing in it. It is instead covered neatly with newspapers.

Do I need to be worried about me? What did those people mean? Why did the warden ask me if I am okay with this room or not? Her explanation was a blatant cover-up for her strange reaction. And those two girls—they comported themselves flakily too. Why?

I sit on the couch and ruminate, with my hands holding my head on my thighs. My luggage is still lying at the door.

I feel so lonely. I need someone to guide me. I am feeling so vulnerable at this moment. I want some elder person to protect me. I knew such thoughts would overwhelm me. And it is actually my sobbing time. But today, I can’t even do that peacefully. I had thought, after all my miseries, something good would happen to me, to pull me out of my despair, but no, even God doesn’t want to see me happy.

I don’t have anyone of my own to share this thing with or to ask for some help. Whom shall I ask whether I should take this room or not? That aunt? She would be delirious in her hangover right now. If something happens to me in this hostel room, then I do not even have anyone of my own to lament over my dead body.

The thought of dying doesn’t scare me. It somewhat eases my pain and gives me the hope that then I can reunite with Mummy and Papa. But I can’t take my life like that because it will make Mummy and Papa sad. It will hurt them to the core.

But if I get hit by some overspeeding car, without any fault of mine, then it would be okay; rather, it would be great.

So I have decided. This hostel is full of asinine people. And I don’t care if this room is haunted. I need to sleep. I will finally have a room of my own and will not have to adjust with that wench at her home.

What was she thinking? I will live with her. I don’t need her. My dad has left me enough money for me to complete my education. What has she done for me, up till now? She was behaving as if she is my mother. Surely, she can never be, after all that stuff she keeps doing.

I take out the bed sheet from my suitcase and drape it properly on the bed. See, I can take care of myself. Earlier, I was a kid. I feel the need for my parents because I love them. The rest I can take care of myself very well. Mummy had trained me well before leaving me alone with you, wench! Again very, very sorry, Dad! But I can’t help it.

My eyes have swollen. I need to sleep. But how do I shut my mind? It doesn’t rest.

I know, I am getting into a state of deep sleep, but my subconscious mind is awake. I can still see the room. I am sleeping; my body is heavy from fatigue, but my mind is still active. The slightest activity would rouse me. I can see everything from here.

A black dress. Someone is standing right near my bed. It’s a black dress with black threads flowing back in the air. It is a woman, a fat woman. I can see her paunch over my head. I try to lift my head and open my eyes. I am trying, trying hard. Oh shit! I can’t open my eyes. I have fallen asleep. Oh! Now I fall asleep when some fat lady in a black dress is standing right next to me.

I wake up at once, aghast, gasping for air. I sit with my back resting on the wall and knees close to my chest. No one is here. I am still heaving. My throat has dried out. I want water. But I don’t want to move. I sit alertly like this for some time. Nothing happens. The only sound in the room is of the ceiling fan.

I finally get up to look for my wristwatch in my handbag. It’s 4.30 p.m. It’s 4.30 p.m.! How long have I slept? Around 3 p.m., I came to this room.

I spreadeagle myself on the couch. I slept nearly for an hour. But it doesn’t feel like an hour’s nap. How did an hour complete? And that stupid dream. Was it a dream, or was some crazy woman actually here? This room is making my blood run cold now. If not this place, then where else can I go?

I don’t know what is wrong with this room. I cannot find anything weird or unusual; it’s not that I will wait for something to happen. But I need some reason to take action. And that these people are giving me the strange vibes about the room is not a good enough reason to ask for the refund. I have already paid the tremendous amount.

I think I am just overthinking. I should take a saunter outside the hostel for fresh air. I need to hydrate myself and eat something. I can go to the canteen or else I can go to the mess. Evening snacks time in the mess is 4 to 5 p.m. Why waste money? I can eat at the mess.

CHAPTER 2

I   put on the first things that come in my hand from the suitcase. I am not that prissy about dressing up. If clothes are crinkle-free, it’s fantastic; otherwise, I don’t give a damn. There is no mirror in this room, and I am not even carrying any with me. I don’t like to see my face in the mirror. It fazes me to see Mom’s face in my face and Dad’s smile when I grin.

I am dying to wet my throat.

I take the elevator to the ground floor. There will be many girls in the mess.