She sat on the bed and stretched. The other bed in the room was occupied. It hadn't been, the previous night. Another young girl, roughly the same age as Anuradha, was lying on it. She was sleeping peacefully.
"Roommates": 20 color relief print on Rives BFK mould-made paper, 64 1/4 x 51 inches (Edition 40), copyright the Roy Lichtenstein estate
Anuradha debated whether she should wake up her room-mate or not. She was very eager to know this person who would be sharing her room with her for the duration of her term at the medical college. What was her name? Would they have anything in common? Would she be able to confide in her like a sister her anxieties of being alone in a new town?
Stopping her from jumping out of bed and shaking awake her new friend (for Anuradha had already decided that they would be friends) was the consideration that Shyamoli (Anuradha had also decided on her name; she looked like she would be a Shyamoli) would have reached rather late in the night, possibly even early morning, and needed her beauty sleep.
Anuradha got lost in her thoughts about Shyamoli. Certainly, they would have something in common. Both were new to this town. Maybe, it was Shyamoli's first time away from home too. And if it wasn't...well, then, Shyamoli's experience would at least be a reassurance and comfort to her. They would sneak out of the hostel late in the night, long after the gates had been shut, just like in the movies. They would light a cigarette between them and share their first puffs. They would...
Loud banging on the door stopped her mid-thought. "Yes?" she called out.
"The warden wants to see the two of you in her room right now," a girl's voice replied back.
"But...but...the other girl is still sleeping..." Anuradha answered helplessly.
"Well, wake her up then. It's past eight anyway," the voice shouted as it faded away along the corridor.
Anuradha moved over to the other bed. She shook its occupant gently. "Good morning," she sang out cheerfully.
Shyamoli didn't respond. Anuradha's shaking got more vigorous. "Come on, wake up. We have to go meet the warden."
A limp hand fell out from under the bedsheet. Anuradha froze. A scream started from somewhere in her throat, but it took a long while to escape from her mouth. She threw the door of her room open, and ran out of it. Her screams resounded throughout the long dimly-lit corridors and narrow winding stairways of the old hostel building.
Beneath the screams, if you listened attentively, you would have heard the smothered giggling of her fellow hostelites. As they'd have told you, you can always count on the morgue to throw up a thing or two to rag the freshers with.
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