34. Dialed from the Past

Dinner was over in a flash. I finished eating in fifteen minutes flat—not because I was hungry, but because my heart was already halfway up the stairs. I rushed toward the bay, skipping two steps at a time. My cot greeted me like a long-lost friend, messy and neglected. I hadn't touched it since I left for evening study. Crumpled sheets, open books, my towel tossed carelessly—everything screamed chaos.

I set to work right away—folded my sheets, straightened the books, changed into my soft cotton pyjamas, and slipped into the comfort of routine. I felt calmer once the bed was in order. It was mine now—my little corner in this big, unfamiliar hostel. I picked up my earphones and quietly made my way toward the warden's cabin.

I wasn't the only one eager. A small crowd had already gathered, eyes shining with the same quiet anticipation I felt.

The warden came around 8:25, her expression calm but commanding. "Everyone, line up outside," she said. "We'll distribute the phones now. You can talk until 9:00 PM sharp. Once the whistle blows, you're expected to submit your phones immediately. No delays. After that, a bay meeting."

Since I'd come early, I was among the first few girls in line. When she called my name, I stepped forward, almost trembling, and took the phone with both hands like it was something sacred. Thankfully, I had charged it fully the last time.

Most girls were rushing to their favorite corners—the staircase landings, the terrace space near the water tank, the garden-side bench. I knew exactly where I was headed.

The study hall.

It was empty at this hour—quiet, with the smell of chalk and old wood lingering like a lullaby. I walked in and sat at the last bench by the window. The night breeze filtered through the grill, cooling my face. I tucked myself into the corner, earphones in, heart already dialing home before my fingers could.

The call connected.

"Nila!" Santhosh's voice came first, loud and eager.

"Akkaaa, did you miss me?" he demanded, not waiting for a reply. "I missed you. Amma made noodles yesterday and didn't even keep the carrots straight like you do."

I laughed softly, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "Of course, I missed you. Did you eat properly today?"

Before he could answer, Amma's voice came on.

"Are you eating well, kanna? Are they giving enough vegetables? Is the rasam too watery? You can ask the mess lady if you want more rice—don't feel shy."

"I'm fine, Amma," I said, smiling. "Today we had veg cutlet. It was actually good."

Appa joined in next, his voice steady and warm.

"How's everything? Settling in? Are the teachers good? Any problems with the lessons?"

"No problems, Appa. I've already revised today's subjects. Tomorrow's class prep is also done."

"You sound responsible," he said with a chuckle.

"I am responsible," I said, lifting my chin. "I'm the class leader, you know."

There was a pause on the other end. I imagined all of them exchanging a proud look.

"Class leader ah?" Amma asked. "Within the first week?"

"Of course," I said, grinning. "They picked me on the second day. I already reminded the cupboard leaders to keep everything neat and safe. I even made a checklist for my own shelf."

"Attagirl," Appa said, voice full of quiet pride.

More voices joined in—chatter from the other end of the speaker. My brother shouted, "Nila akka, hostel snacks better than Amma's cooking ah?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "No way! Amma's food is always the best."

Even in the dark, I could feel home.

For a few minutes, we were all together again—me, wrapped in my pyjamas in a dimly lit study hall, and them, sitting somewhere on the other side of my world, holding space for me.

The whistle blew, sharp and sudden.

"I have to go," I said softly. "I'll talk to you again on Friday."

"Take care, kanna," Appa said.

"Don't forget to wear your slippers while going to the bathroom!" Amma added, as always.

And Santhosh yelled, "Tell me if anyone bullies you. I'll come fight them!"

I laughed, heart full.

The call ended.

I was just about to switch off the screen and head toward the warden's cabin when I noticed the time—8:55 PM. Five minutes left.

The warning bell had just rung. Phone time is not yet over last 5 minutes, just the subtle click of nervous energy floating through the hallways. I slid the phone in my palm, ready to head out, when a message popped up.

"You look more responsible now. Still planning to take the same path as your past life?"

I froze.

My thumb hovered above the screen. The number wasn't saved. No name. Just plain words that twisted the pit of my stomach.

My breath caught.

This had to be a mistake. A prank?

I hit dial without thinking. The phone rang once, and then—

Call cancelled.

I redialed. This time, it didn't even ring. Just silence.

A second later, another message buzzed through:

"Don't try to call me. Just say what's your plan."

I blinked hard. My heart was racing now. Each word pressed against my chest like a secret being unwrapped forcefully.

Who are you?I typed back.

My hands trembled. The study hall felt colder.

"You just have five minutes. Don't waste them. Tell me what your plan is."

What plan? I don't know what you're talking about.I tried to type as innocently as possible. Pretend. Deny. Stall.

There was a moment of stillness—no message, no buzz—until suddenly:

"Come on. I don't think you can fake it now. You already asked me who are you, which means you accepted the first message as true. So… you had a rebirth too, didn't you? What's your plan this time?"

My throat went dry.

The message was too specific. Too confident. They weren't guessing. They knew.

I didn't reply.

I sat there, staring at the screen, the countdown of time ticking away in my head. I had barely three minutes left now before the whistle. My body wanted to run, but I couldn't move. My eyes were fixed on that chat box, waiting to see if another message would come.

Nothing.

I typed something and erased it.

I didn't want to show my cards. I had already said too much by responding at all. Whoever it was, they were confident I remembered everything, just like them. My heart pounded with a familiar dread—not the fear of getting caught with the phone late, but a deeper fear. One that reached beyond this life.

Why now? Why tonight?

"We're running out of time," the next message came. "I'll have to wait three more model days before I get another phone turn. Don't waste this. Just be honest with me. What do you want from this life?"

I stared at the screen, frozen.

A thousand thoughts rushed through me at once—faces from the past life, memories I had buried under smiles and silence, and now, a stranger pulling it all out with a few messages. It felt unreal, and yet... it wasn't.

My fingers hovered above the keypad, but I didn't type.

I couldn't.

I heard the sharp whistle outside the hall.

Time's up.

I locked the phone, slipped it into my kurti pocket, and walked to the warden's cabin, keeping my expression neutral.

Inside, I was spiraling.

But outside, I was just another girl who'd used her phone for 30 minutes.

I grabbed a rough paper from the shelf and scribbled down every word from memory. "You look responsible... past life... same path... rebirth..." I couldn't even be sure whether it was a he or a she texting. The tone felt neutral. Knowing. Calculated.

I didn't want to forget even a syllable. Maybe I was imagining it all. Maybe I was tired. But just in case… I wrote it all.

My legs carried me to the washroom on autopilot. I turned on the tap and let a splash of cold water hit my face, again and again, until my breathing slowed. My eyes were sharp in the mirror, but something behind them trembled.

Back in the dorm, I grabbed my pillow and slipped out quietly. The bay meeting was about to begin in front of the warden's cabin. I sat outside, hugging the pillow close, as if it could cushion the buzzing in my head.

I knew this meeting would drag on. Rules. Phones. Plates. Talk, talk, talk. At least if I got comfortable, I could pretend to focus.

One of the seniors noticed my pillow and smiled. "Good idea." She ducked into the cabin and brought hers. Soon, almost everyone followed.

The warden arrived and blinked at the bunch of us sitting on the ground, hugging pillows like it was a sleepover. But she didn't comment. She began outlining the rules again.

"We noticed some of you skipping playtime and hiding in the hostel," she said sternly. "You're not in your homes anymore. This is a hostel. There are expectations."

I tried to keep my head up, nodding along.

"Some of you take way too long in the bathrooms. And don't think staying in the hostel is a free pass to miss assembly. Doors will now be locked at 7:20 AM sharp. Be out before that."

The girls around me muttered. I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

She continued, "Lights must be off by 10:30 PM. I don't want to come around reminding you every night. You are not school kids."

"Laundry will be collected every Tuesday and Friday morning. Keep your clothes near your cupboard. When you return around 8:00 PM, your cleaned, ironed clothes will be placed outside. Don't lose them. If you do, we're not responsible."

My hands gripped the pillow harder.

She moved on to the phones. "Some of you were late submitting tonight. You know the rule. 8:30 to 9:00 PM. No excuses."

A few girls raised their hands to ask about charging.

"I'll allow half an hour of charging time on your phone day," she said, with a tone that left no room for negotiation. "Put it on charge, go have dinner. The room will be locked. You can collect it once charging is done. But this will happen only once every three weeks."

A girl asked if it could start from the second week since many hadn't charged it today.

"I'll consider it," she replied.

The words were blurring now.

I wasn't thinking about the lights-off policy or phone timings. I was stuck on the messages. That stranger. The confidence. The way they knew. Did they really have a rebirth too? Were they watching me? Were they from my old school? My family? My past life?

A part of me wanted to tear apart the possibilities. Another part wanted to bury it all and pretend this night never happened.

After the meeting, everyone dispersed.

I walked slowly to my bed. I slid under the sheet, wrapped myself around the pillow, and closed my eyes.

But sleep didn't come easy.

My thoughts were wide awake—looping, questioning, afraid. Somewhere deep inside, something told me this wasn't the last message I'd get.

Just the first.