The Reunion Of The Batch Of '95

"So, it is fixed, right? 29th it is?" Sima asked Nitul over the phone, wanting to make sure the plan was still on schedule.

"Yes, honey, it is very much on. This time, we are going ahead. No change of plans whatsoever," Nitul replied.

"Great! Can't wait to meet all of you again and go back to the good old school days. By the way, everyone is coming, right? And any news about Raktim? Were you able to trace him? Hope you did and he is coming too," Sima said, raising a familiar question that Nitul had faced for what felt like the hundredth time since the day the reunion had been planned.

"Who? Raktim? Everyone has been asking me the same question over and over again, and every time I have the same answer- I do not know," Nitul replied, emphasising the last four words, sounding a bit irritated.

"Sima, today the world has made drastic progress and today you are even able to capture a ghost on camera, but Raktim seems to be more ghostly than Annabelle. No trace of him, no trace at all. Tell me, where shall we begin our search from? No one knows where he went. But, still, we are trying," Nitul said, sounding uninterested.

"Arey, don't get irritated. It is just that... you know... well, Arlen and I were talking about him the other day, and suddenly he came up with an idea. He said... ah, never mind," Sima trailed off, sensing Nitul’s lack of interest.

"See, I have been trying to trace him like a madman. If he can't be found, how can I say whether he will come or not? At this point, only telepathy might work - or perhaps an Ouija board," Nitul said, shrugging off Sima's concern.

"Hmmm. Okay then, Nitul, see you soon. The baby is calling. Dinner time," Sima said, heaving a deep sigh, and she disconnected the call.

Nitul and Sima were school friends who studied together at one of the most prestigious schools of the city. They were the first HSLC batch of their school - who sat for their Class X board exams in 1995. The school, however, was shut down permanently a few years back owing to an unfortunate incident.

There were a total of 25 of them who appeared in the HSLC exam and all of them passed with good grades, three even able to get positions

This reunion, scheduled for the 29th of the following month, had been in planning for over five years. Ever since the idea was floated in their WhatsApp group, everyone had shown eagerness and excitement for the reunion. But then COVID-19 struck, followed by a nationwide lockdown, which forced them to delay and postpone the programme.

And then one problem followed another, and the much sought-after reunion could not take place. But this time Nitul, who has taken the lead, made sure that the plan goes ahead and that everyone makes it a point to attend the reunion.

Out of the 25 from the batch, 24 were part of the WhatsApp group - everyone except Raktim.

A school topper, Raktim did not mingle much apart from his classmates. He interacted only as much as was required and was not a chatterbox kind of person. He preferred to be in his own company most of the time.

And today, when the world is on social media, there is no trace of him there either. No one knows where he lives, and without an address for communication, it is almost impossible to trace him or get in touch with him.

"Dudes, things for the reunion are shaping up well. Finally, we will be back to school days, but there is just one issue- the same old problem- Raktim! Ever since we planned the reunion before COVID-19, we have been trying to trace him, but... Nitul has been trying to find him, and I have personally been hunting for his whereabouts for years now, but all my efforts have been futile," Naba said, gulping down his third peg.

"Oh, look who we have here- Byomkesh Bakshi himself! Hunting for his whereabouts... blah blah," Imdad remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah, Mr Sherlock Holmes, and where exactly did you hunt for him?" David joined in.

"Aa... well... Eye baal, baad dey. Leave it. Mod khao," Naba slurred, pouring his fourth peg, mumbling to himself and giving a deadly scare to a sarcastically smiling Imdad.

"Tohoti ji koro sob bhaal... Hobo dey baal. I won't say anything. As if only you are entitled to do all the good stuff, and whatever I do or say is just...," he lit a cigarette without finishing what he was saying, and continued his mumbling as he gulped down the fourth peg in one go and slammed the empty glass on the table with a heavy thud, making everyone else turn their heads towards their table.

Naba, Nitul, Imdad, and David were best friends since nursery. Of the 25 classmates, they were the only ones who kept meeting almost every month at their favourite bar over a few pegs of whisky.

Naba was a banker, Nitul was a wildlife photographer, Imdad owned a chess academy, and David was a teacher.

"Hey David, didn't you tell me that you saw him somewhere near Hengrabari-Ganeshguri road last year?" Naba asked, pouring another peg for him.

"Not me, it was my cousin who said he might have seen Raktim, but he wasn't sure if that was Raktim or his some doppelganger. Everything happened in a jiffy. Raktim, or whoever he was, got lost in the crowd before Emanuel could stop or park his bike," David replied, passing on the packet of cigarette to Imdad.

"At least Emanuel saw someone resembling Raktim. I have asked almost everyone I know- staying in India or abroad- sharing his description, but no luck... no luck at all. Sala. Ei Raktimtu bom mosto daangor eta kela hoi bey. He is a dog," Naba's frustration was vivid.

"Hahaha. Naba and his sweet words. Aah! Chill out dude. I am sure, there will be one door which will open to an oasis, despite so many doors opening to barren lands," Nitul said, taking a sip of his whisk

"Yesterday Sima called and I told her either it would be Raktim or his restless spirit- either one will come to the reunion. Remember what Coelho says, 'And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.' I am sure He who sits above is watching everything, and our prayers and wishes won't go unheard," Nitul quickly added as he looked up to the ceiling sighing softly.

Everyone looked at Nitul, who was staring at the ceiling, faintly smiling, as if he was trying to connect with the one sitting above. His faint warm smile looked more like a silent and soft prayer.

"The guy just vanished- like he never existed at all. Aah! How I wish I could get hold of a time machine, go back, and change the past!" David exclaimed, breaking the silence.

"Yeah! Who would have thought he would vanish? I remember he used to have Phantom stickers stuck inside his pencil box. I never imagined he would turn into a real-life phantom," Imdad said, idly tracing the rim of his half-full whisky glass with his right index finger.

"Man... thirty years is a long time, I know... but if we have been able to trace our hundred-year-old ancestors, he has been gone only thirty years. I know we have failed so far, but as the saying goes- it’s not the end until it’s the end. So, we will have to have him at the reunion; after all, he is our Ram, and Agomonee is our Janu," Imdad added, regaining his composure and winking at Nitul.

"Ram? Janu? Would you like to explain this, Imdad?" asked Nitul, looking puzzled and confused.

"What the f...! So, you haven't watched 96, the Tamil movie, yet?" Imdad asked, almost surprised.

"No, why? Is it related to Raktim in someway? Did he act in that?" Nitul, who was now more confused, asked Imdad.

"Kela, eewu eta big nonsense bey baal. Dude, you are a big idiot, do you know that? How on earth you don't know Ram, Janu or 96? Kela yaak pit bey. Imdad, hit him. No, thrash him. Sala beura," Naba said, irritated.

"Dhei. Toi nijey bewra. You are a drunkard. Now shut up Naba. Imdad, please explain," Nitul pressed again.

"Well, 96 is a beautiful Tamil romantic film released in 2018. It stars Vijay Sethupathi as Ram, and Trisha Krishnan as Janu. They loved each other deeply during their school days but never found the courage to express it. Years later, they meet again at their batch reunion - Janu is married and has a daughter, while Ram remains single, still quietly in love with her. The moment he sees her, he is bedazzled - just like he was back in their school days. You see, Raktim and Agomonee were a lot like them - bound by an unspoken love they never confessed. And that is why I call them Ram and Janu of our batch," Imdad said in a soft yet assertive tone, looking at Nitul.

Emptying his glass and pouring in another peg, Nitul lit a cigarette, looked at Imdad, nodding slowly.

Heaving a deep sigh, he said, "Hmm. Now I get your point. So, what happens at the end of the movie? Does Ram get Janu?"

"No," Imdad said, his tone thoughtful, "Ram does not end up with Janu, and that's what makes the film such a brilliant watch- though it is a bit heartbreaking. It is a story about love- Ram's pure and unconditional love for Janu, even after knowing she is married and a mother. You must see the sparkle in their eyes when they meet- Ram's eyes expressing his love, and Janu's, her quiet acceptance of that love."

"Sadly... our Ram- if we can trace him and bring him to the reunion- will also not get his Janu. And... I hope he stays like 96's Ram- sweet, adorable and single," Imdad sighed, lost in a dreamworld of his own, imagining Raktim and Agomonee as Ram and Janu, his eyes sparkling.

"Come on, guys, we are not here to discuss some movie plot. Okay, Imdad, we all agree that Raktim is Ram and Agomonee is Janu- and if they meet on the 29th, they will surely give off a 96-like vibe! But the real question is: how is our Ram going to turn out for the reunion? Do we know where he is? — no. Do we know what he looks like? — no. Do we even know whether he’s alive? — no! All we have are a bunch of big NOs to all our queries.

And I think we are investing too much time in Raktim. I mean, why should we care about someone who has never tried to contact us even once in the last thirty years? And say, even if we trace him and he comes to the reunion, will he be able to gel with us? Anyway, he was never that sociable even then- and now, after thirty years, after... Let's stop discussing him more than required.

If you want to discuss ways of tracing him down, I am game- but please stop this 96-kind-of bullshitting stuff," said David, sounding slightly irritated, as he downed two vodka shots within seconds.

"Kela hoi bey, olop besiyei hoi asil. It was actually getting too much. Ram, Janu..dhur! Oi, mod ses. O bhai, please repeat our pegs," Naba piped in, signalling to the waiter standing at a distance to refill their empty glasses.

The conversation went on endlessly till the late hours, and the intoxication grew heavier. Raktim moved to the back seat during their later discussions, as talk of food, wine, and who was going to share a room with whom on the reunion night took over the conversation.

Raktim had joined the school midway through Class VII. It wasn't unusual for students to leave or join schools in the middle of a term. He was helpful, studious, and every teacher's favourite.

A bright all-rounder, he had brought several accolades to the school through quiz, debate, and other competitions. He was also a gifted and talented actor, but most of his acting works remained confined within the school premises. He performed most critical characters with perfection and ease.

Agomonee, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of Raktim. She was a bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl who loved dancing and playing outdoor sports, especially football. Her dream was to represent the country one day, and while in school, she had already played for the Under-16 district team several times.

Raktim's quiet admiration for Agomonee - and her gentle affection for him - came to light during a school picnic. The otherwise reserved Raktim spent the entire day with her, chatting and sitting by a stream at Chandrapur - one of the most popular picnic spots for schools back in the early '90s, situated around 40 kilometres from the city.

He smiled, she blushed, and the two even secretly held hands - a secret that, as it turned out, did not remain one for long.

In Assam, the HSLC examination is often regarded as one of the most important milestones in a student's life. Scoring well in Class X paves the way to a good college after Class XII, ultimately opening doors to a brighter future. Being the school's very first batch, the students received extra care and attention from the teachers and staff, especially from Class IX onwards.

Their collective efforts finally bore fruit as the entire batch - all 25 students - passed the exam with impressive grades.

Along with Raktim, Rehana and Juri also secured ranks in the examination. Both are now based in the US, pursuing research in plasma physics.

Among the others, four became doctors- one an eye surgeon, one specialised in orthopaedics, and two were medicine specialists; Naba, along with three others, was in the banking sector; six were in the engineering sector; Nitul became a wildlife photographer; Imdad, a chess coach; David was a teacher at his alma mater; Sima owns a boutique; Agomonee was in the development sector, and three of them owned their own businesses.

It was only Raktim, about whom no one knew what he was doing or where he was. Even in this hi-tech jet age, there were no digital footprints of him available anywhere. In fact, those who knew him and his family were also oblivious about his whereabouts.

With the reunion date drawing near, the WhatsApp group was abuzz with activity lists — from one requesting a special cuisine to another insisting that a particular brand of liquor be added to the bar. While some said they would love to eat meat, others preferred vegetarian dishes. And in between, there were countless queries about Raktim — the most pressing being, 'Has he been traced?'

Nitul, who had been overseeing all the preparations and arrangements for the reunion, was the person most often bombarded with queries surrounding Raktim. Although he managed to handle every query with as much calmness as he could muster, there were moments when even he lost his cool and blurted out in frustration.

"Let me make this clear once and for all: I am here to work for the reunion, not to trace Raktim. Yes, I have tried before, I am still trying, and I will continue to try even after the reunion. But honestly, I feel he is a ghost now- gone back to his zombieland. This reunion is about us. Out of 25, 24 of us will be there on the 29th. I don't want all the fun, nostalgia, and memories we are going to create that day to fade away just because of one person's absence. And why only me? If you all want him so badly, go and look for him yourselves. Stop being comfortable in your comfort zones. Use your time, your energy, and your sources instead of expecting someone else to do everything. I am done answering questions about him- not anymore," Nitul replied in the group one day, out of sheer frustration and irritation.

David quickly responded supporting Nitul and respecting his request, others also stopped questioning about Raktim. With just a week left for the grand reunion, no one wanted to spoil the excitement. Yet, someone in the group was not happy with the others' decision to stay silent about Raktim. It was Raktim's quiz partner, Arlen.

With just two days left for the reunion, Arlen could not hold himself back any longer.

"Hi Nitul. Sorry for this text- I know you had asked us not to bring Raktim's matter in the group, but I just could not stop myself any longer. Have you got any information about Raktim? I know you have not traced him yet; had you, you would have shared the news in the group. I have also looked and relooked for him everywhere, at every place I could think of. Spoken to everyone who knows him. But all my efforts have been in vain. Please do not be mad at me for bringing up the matter again," he wrote.

Arlen waited for sometime to see if Nitul would reply, but he did not. Though the message was delivered to Nitul, it remained unread. Just as he was about to close the WhatsApp app, a notification popped up- someone had replied, asking why it was so important that Raktim be present at the reunion.

"He is not a hero, is he? Nor is he a VVIP. Sure, he was our batchmate, but he disappeared, long back. It has been 30 years. A person who is lost, about whom we know nothing- whether dead or alive- then why is that one person so important? Why waste your time and energy to trace him? Why should we even bother? 24 of us are enough, or are we not?" sked Mitali, who owns one of the state's reputed software firms.

"Because we all owe him an apology for what we did to him 30 years ago. Perhaps, it is because of us - our behaviour and our foolishness 30 years ago that Raktim has become a ghost today- a person who seems to have never existed; someone who disappeared," Arlen's reply came quicker than expected.

"What the f... Kela. Kor kotha kot taniso bey, toi? Thikei aso tu toi? Are you okay, dude? What the heck are you dragging here! Fuck, man," Naba, who had been silently reading every message in the group, finally replied in his usual lingua franca.

"Saa bhai, we were kids then and... Dhur kela. Do you think Raktim, a genius, the school topper who stood second in the HSLC examination, would still be holding on to that silly thing? Kela, mod khowa time howa nasil bey mor. Bhabisilu ekebare porohi khaam. For people like you, I can't keep my no-drinking promise. Keep discussing the incident and introspecting. I am off. Bye," Naba wrote again.

For the rest of the evening-or rather, night-he did not come online again. His happy hours stretched far too long into the midnight and beyond.

So, the incident the group was discussing - or rather, that Arlen had brought up - took place right after their pre-test examinations, sometime towards the end of October in 1994. Officially, it was their last day of school - the course was complete, and the pre-test examinations were done and dusted. Only the official photoshoot remained, scheduled for the following week. Though the shoot was to take place on that same day, it got delayed because a few teachers were on medical leave, and being the first batch, the entire teaching and non-teaching staff wanted to be a part of the historical photograph.

Students from Class V to the outgoing batch had gathered in the assembly hall, where the outgoing students were being given a farewell and wished luck for the forthcoming HSLC examinations. The teachers and students were sharing their memories and experiences when the office peon hurried onto the stage, concealing an A4-size brown envelope between a few registers, and handed it to the headmistress.

The headmistress looked at the peon, arching her eyebrows as if to ask what was with the registers. The peon subtly pointed at the envelope concealed among the registers and gestured for her to open it.

Sensing the urgency, the headmistress opened the envelope quietly, looked at the contents, and closed it at once. Her expression changed in an instant- the pleasant smile on her face was quickly replaced by an angry frown.

She slipped the envelope under the registers, and glanced at the speaker, then at her wristwatch, followed by a short glance at the wall clock in the assembly hall, before fixing a cold stare on Raktim, who seemed oblivious to everything happening around him. When the final speaker concluded his speech, she asked the Class X students and a few senior teachers to stay back, and others to leave.

"What is this, Raktim?" she yelled at him the moment the other students and teachers exited the assembly hall, clenching the same envelope tightly in her hand.

Raktim was stunned by the sudden outburst of the headmistress. He froze the moment he saw the envelope in her hands. There was pin-drop silence in the room; even the faint thud of his heartbeat seemed like a loud echo.

"I never expected this from you. I know at this age children go through certain hormonal changes, but...! Tch! Disgusting," the headmistress continued her rebuke. Raktim stood silently, head bowed, absorbing her words.

Everyone looked bemused, unsure what had caused the sudden outburst. Everyone had just one question in mind- what was inside that mysterious brown envelope?

"You know, Tulika Ma'am, what this envelope contains? Third-rate adult books and magazines! And look at his audacity - he had them couriered to the school. Why, Mr? Afraid your parents will bash you if these are delivered to your home?" she asked him sharply, the yelling getting louder.

The headmistress' words struck the air like a thundering slap. For a moment, the entire assembly froze, and everyone stared at each other in disbelief. And then came the whispers, sharp and overlapping- all asking the same thing, their voices full of shock and disbelief.

Some even giggled silently while looking at Raktim’s helpless state. Though they wanted to laugh their hearts out, they struggled to hold it in, fearing he might notice and feel even more embarrassed.

Raktim could not look up. His body trembled as he knuckled his fingers anxiously. He could hear soft murmurs behind him and caught sight of a few faint, sarcastic smiles. When the headmistress finished scolding him, the other teachers joined in, their words cutting deeper than he could bear. A flush of shame burned his cheeks, and humiliation welled up inside him. He felt utterly exposed, helpless, and wished he could vanish — to the Antipodes, far from this crowd.

After a few minutes of harsh reprimand, the headmistress and the teachers left, followed by the students- except for Raktim and his favourite teacher, Miss Tulika. As they walked past him, a few teachers and students cast sharp, disapproving looks in his direction, while a couple of students giggled, as if ridiculing him. Raktim’s eyes were moist, tears almost rolling down, his head bowed in shame. It was only him and Miss Tulika at the assembly hall now.

"Raktim, watching or reading porn at this tender age is bad. The headmistress may have sounded rude, but what she said was for your own good. If lust takes over you, you will lose your ability to think and judge, and it will make you weak. I hope you will stop reading such books," said Miss Tulika gently, her voice firm yet calm in the empty assembly hall.

Since Raktim's mother had passed away when he was in Class V, he had always felt deep void in his life. It was Miss Tulika who managed to fill in this void to a certain extent. Though she was not old enough to be the mother of a teenager, she always treated Raktim like her own child.

"Abbey son, tumi jui bey! Kela, amaku kobo parila hoi! We could have even paid half the price of those books for you. And the best part- we would have kept them safe, nicely hidden from everyone," Naba said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

A few others stood near Naba, both boys and girls, softly giggling at Raktim, exchanging amused looks as if teasing him for what had happened.

As Naba kept poking him with questions about the books and where he had got them from, Raktim snapped and slammed the table with a heavy thud, glaring at Naba in anger.

"Naba, leave him alone. Do not disturb him," Arlen said firmly, pulling Naba and the others who were giggling at Raktim, out of the room.

The room was not empty, but Raktim felt the loneliest. He raised his head, wiped his face with a handkerchief, and drank water from his bottle. That is when his eyes met Agomonee’s, who was staring at him with a strange and inexplicable gaze. Just as he was about to call out her name, she dashed out of the room. Raktim's heart sank.

He sank back on his chair and stared out into the distant horizon out of the window, when he felt someone calling out his name. He turned around, but there was no one. It was all in his mind and not in real. He saw his classmates busy chattering to each other, ignoring his presence completely.

Raktim picked up his bag and left, detached from the euphoria around him. His classmates were busy signing shirts, writing farewell messages, throwing ink at each other, laughing, and making promises to stay in touch forever. Lost in their frenzy, none of them noticed Raktim slip away quietly.

Meanwhile, the school administration decided not to include Raktim in the group photograph of the outgoing batch- school's first HSLC batch.

The headmistress argument was simple- "This is a historic photo for our school and I will not allow a pervert to be a part of it."

"But madam, this will be pure injustice to him. Raktim is a bright student, perhaps the sharpest of this batch who has brought our school several accolades. Can't you please forgive him, considering his mistake as a teenage misadventure? Had the books not been discovered, we would not have known about it at all and things would have remained just the same, isn't it, ma'am? Please reconsider and assume as if nothing happened," Miss Tulika pleaded, opposing the headmistress' decision to exclude Raktim from the group photo

"Look, there are a lot of ifs and buts here. It is only out of leniency that I am allowing him to appear for the HSLC examinations from our school. This is my final decision. I do not want a pervert like him included in the photograph. His presence might make the girls feel uncomfortable. And what if the girls refuse to come if he comes? So, for the sake of one student, I cannot sacrifice the presence of the girls. He will not be included, that's it. End of discussion," the headmistress said firmly.

"Don't you understand that the person who couriered the books sent them to the school's address? Can't you see this has already put our reputation at stake, tarnishing our image before someone we do not even know? For me, image matters a lot," the headmistress added quickly.

And it happened exactly as the headmistress had said. The photograph was clicked without Raktim. The teachers and the office staff knew why he was not included in the photograph. Some were emphatic towards him, while some felt it was the right thing to exclude Raktim from the photo.

The year 1994 ended and entered 1995- and within just one-and-a-half months into 1995, began the HSLC examination in the third week of February.

Although the candidates entered the examination hall by 8:30 in the morning, the parents who came to see them off stayed until the end. As soon as the candidates came out of the centre, the parents waiting outside gathered around them- going through the question papers and asking several questions about the exam.

At the centre where Raktim and his friends appeared for the examination, twenty-four students were seated in two separate rooms along with candidates from other schools. However, Raktim was given a seat in a different room- a sick room, to be precise- where, apart from him and a guard, no one was present. No one knew why this special arrangement had been made, though there were rumours that the headmistress was responsible for it.

On the last day, after finishing their final paper, the whole batch planned to meet at a small tea stall near the exam centre before heading home.

Agomonee had finished her paper a little earlier and waited near the exit gate, hoping to see Raktim. She stood watching the students come out one by one from different rooms. When she finally saw him stepping out from the other side of the building, she waved and walked up to him.

"How was the exam, Raktim? I heard you were unwell and got a separate room. Are you okay?" she asked with a faint smile.

"Good. By the way, everyone is meeting at the tea stall across the road to celebrate the last day. You should come too," she said, hoping he would join.

"No. I have to go. Bye. Take care," he said in a cold voice, then turned away without another word.

Agomonee watched as he walked towards the road, got into a rickshaw, and disappeared into the crowd. Something about the way he left felt strange to her, but she said nothing.

The HSLC results were announced a few months later, bringing a wave of jubilation to the school. Three students secured positions, and soon the campus was swarming with news reporters. Every journalist had just one question - "Where is Raktim, the second rank holder of the HSLC exam?"

The headmistress had a ready answer: "Raktim’s family has moved away from the city. He will come next week to collect his marksheet and certificate."

Many felt the headmistress had been far too harsh on a 16-year-old naïve boy for a not-so-serious act.

Meanwhile, the batch's WhatsApp group was constantly popping up with message notifications.

"I think Arlen is right. We do owe that guy an apology. His mistake wasn't so grave that we should have ignored him. I ignored him out of fear of my mom. But now I realise, I was wrong," wrote Pallavi, the headmistress' daughter - the only eye surgeon of the group.

"Hey, I have never asked this, but how did the peon get hold of that envelope? Was Raktim really so careless?" asked Sima.

"It was Deb's, Arnab's, Nayan's, and my fault that the peon got hold of the envelope. Like every day, that day also we ransacked everyone's tiffin before going to the assembly hall when we found the books in Raktim's bag. We skimmed through a few chapters quickly and left before anyone could see us. In our hurry, we did not bother to check if the books were properly put back inside the envelope. It must have been lying open, and as usual, the peon must have entered the classroom to place the chalks and duster - that's when he must have found the books and handed them over to the headmistress. So yes, it was our fault that he got caught," Arlen admitted.

"After our HSLC examinations I visited his home, but by then they had left the place and neighbours told me that his father was transferred to a different city. With time, I also got busy with life, and the incident faded away from my memory. But now, with all of us finally reuniting, I think this is the right moment to apologise. I must apologise. It was my curiosity, my hormonal rush that made others fall into the lust trap. I was the first one to notice the envelope and I was the one who opened it and brought out the books. Had I not done that, perhaps, the others would have never known about it and the subsequent chain of events would not have followed. I must apologise for my fault. When the headmistress rebuked and shamed him, none of us went to him and consoled him, and instead of standing by his side, we ignored him and made him feel lonely. It was our final day in school, and we ignored him completely. We never noticed how silently he left us. I think, you should also apologise," Arlen added.

"Yes, Arlen is right. When the reunion was discussed back in 2019 at Suparna's wedding, I was the one who said we should try and trace Raktim and invite him to the reunion. Because I too feel that, somewhere, we were at fault. Believe me guys, for the past few years I am having nightmares- like I committed a grave sin back then. My heart refuses to buy my justifications that I was also naïve and 16 then. Even I will apologise," wrote Sima.

"Yes, Arlen and Sima are both correct. On the day of the incident, he tried talking to me. But I dashed out of the room when he was about to call out my name. I don't know why I did that but when, on the day of the final exam, I tried to strike a conversation after the exam was over, he responded coldly and it was quite evident that he did not want to talk. What if I had spoken to him in the class instead of dashing out? I will apologise! I should apologise," wrote Agomonee.

While some refrained from replying, others, however, admitted to their mistakes and said they should also apologise. Deep down, everyone had their guilty conscience running high.

The next day passed normally, the WhatsApp group popping up with messages from the members, everyone discussing about the activities they were supposed to do at the resort where the reunion was being organised.

It was a beautiful resort on the outskirts of the city, in the Sonapur area, near a lush green forest famous for its wide varieties of birds and butterflies. It was a paradise for bird lovers- a place very much part of the city, yet far away from the maddening crowd.

It had been decided long ago that only the schoolmates would attend the reunion night- no spouses or children were allowed. Most importantly, everyone's mobile phones were to be switched off and kept away from the venue. The group planned to have a reunion photoshoot the next morning, when everyone would be sober and fresh.

Juri and Rehana had to apply for leaves months in advance to ensure they could make it to the reunion.

Nitul's arrangements were flawless. From choosing the right cuisines to selecting the perfect drinks, he personally oversaw every detail.

Half of the resort – one entire section – was reserved exclusively for the batch of '95. They had neatly arranged tables and chairs on the small but beautiful lawn, just outside a large party hall – which had a bar counter with different brands of alcohol stacked in a makeshift case.

Nitul had especially instructed the resort management that they did not want any unwanted invasion during their gathering so they would pour their drinks themselves. The service boys would be called only when required, and the management followed every directive to the word.

"Finally! Aah! I will be 16 again," Naba exclaimed as he stepped out of his car. He, Nitul, David, and Imdad had arrived at the venue an hour early to sort out any last-minute details.

One by one, the others began to show up, and by dusk, the resort was alive with the laughter and chatter of a group of 40-year-old teenagers.

Though it was November, the night felt alive as the air carried gentle warmth, and fireflies flickering in the distance made the evening feel timeless.

"Hey, Nitul, thanks, man. Excellent arrangement. Lovely! Aah, this really takes me back to childhood. It's so good to see you all after decades. Nothing seems to have changed. The banking sector sucks, man, the banking sector sucks. Aah! I can breathe freely today," exclaimed Deb.

"Yeah, indeed! And special thanks to Juri and Rehana for coming all the way from the US for this reunion. Thanks, darlings," said Mitali.

The evening was only getting younger when an irresistibly husky voice emerged from the shadows, calling out to them.

Dressed in a black half-sleeved, body-fit formal shirt, which was neatly tucked in, and paired with well-ironed black trousers and polished black formal shoes, a strongly built man appeared before them smiling warmly. He was around their age, with neatly gelled hair, a chiseled jawline, and an athletic build, and he wore thick-rimmed spectacles with broad glasses.

With a wide, warm smile on his face, he called out again, "Hello guys! Reunioning without me? Surprise, surprise! Look who's here?"

Everyone turned around, surprised. Time stood still. No one moved. Everyone's glance was transfixed on the guy standing before them.

"What? Why do you look so stunned as if you have seen a ghost? Hey, knock knock!" the man said, breaking the silence.

"Who are you, and what brings you here?" asked Vicky, getting up from his chair.

"You… you must be Vikramjit- oops, sorry- Vicky. Yes, you always preferred being called Vicky, not Vikramjit. And you are Naba, you are Nitul, right? Hey, Arly, what's up? Still into quizzing? Ah, AG, how are you doing? Still playing football? And you must be Mitali, Sima, David, Imdad, and Anil, right?" The mysterious man called out everyone's name, pointing at each of them in turn.

They were shocked and stunned to hear a stranger call out their names with perfection.

"Guys, it's me-Raktim! What? Don't tell me you have not recognised me!" he added with a grin.

For a moment, there was pin drop silence, which gradually transformed into a hum of disbelief.

Everyone exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes shifting between one another and the man who claimed to be him. Some faces showed confusion, others shock, and many carried the same unspoken question- was it truly him, or just someone impersonating him?

Sensing that doubts still lingered in their minds, the mysterious man who claimed to be Raktim began sharing stories from the past - anecdotes only Raktim could have known, with details that the people he mentioned could instantly relate to.

"...and Naba, do you remember stealing petrol from Arindam Sir's Vespa to fill your father's old Bajaj, then riding up to Kamakhya hilltop to meet Suparna - while Arindam Sir was at your house giving tuition to your younger sister? You and Suparna were in a relationship then, weren't you? And you used to call her landline pretending to be me, didn't you? Anamika once told me about it after she and Suparna had a fight. When I asked why you used my name to fuel your love story, instead of apologising, you bribed me with a Gold Spot and some Amul chocolates. Do you remember that, or have you forgotten? If I weren't Raktim, how on earth could I possibly know this story in such detail?" the man asked Naba sharply.

"Guys, both Anamika and Suparna are here - ask them if you do not believe me," he added with a faint smile, pointing towards the two.

That was Naba and Suparna's secret, with Anamika and Raktim being the only outsiders who knew about it. The revelation of the secret was enough to convince Naba that the man standing before him was indeed Raktim.

"And Arly, do you remember that quiz competition where I was sidelined by one member of the audience after we won the competition- mainly because you shared his surname - and how proud he was that someone with his surname came first at his local quiz?" the man now turned towards Arlen and asked bluntly.

Arlen was stunned. However, before he could react, Naba leapt from his chair, ran towards the man, hugged him tightly and shouted, "Kelaaaaaa... Johoni... fucking bastard! He is RAKTIM! Kela toi Raktim bey, you are Raktim! Guys, this... is Raktim!"

It wasn't just Arlen or Naba who were convinced that the man standing before them was Raktim - every soul present there, to whom he had shared an untold story, was certain that the man before them was indeed Raktim- the ghost who vanished thirty years ago.

The group walked up to Raktim, who stood there with a warm smile and eyes wide with delight.

Even after the mysterious man had provided enough proof to establish his identity as Raktim, Pranab, Raj, David, and Imdad were still not fully convinced. Standing in a corner, they smoked and watched him intently, firmly believing that the man claiming to be Raktim was, in fact, an imposter who had come to the reunion uninvited with some hidden motive.

Meanwhile, Priya, Darshana, Mahesh, and Kaushik remained confused and uncertain — torn between siding with the majority or the minority. Their minds were clouded with doubt, yet their hearts were ready to accept the stranger before them as Raktim.

Raktim noticed them and sensed the turmoil and confusion they were in. He waved and smiled, reassuring them that he was indeed Raktim and no one else. They nodded in acknowledgement, though still not completely convinced.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, Raktim was bombarded with a barrage of questions - starting from where he had been all these years and how he had even heard about the reunion.

Raktim lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and, releasing the smoke in a long sigh, said, "I ran to the Andes, then to Everest, before settling down at Mount Kailash. I was meditating all these years, and now I am a seer with telepathic powers, who can read even a dead man's mind."

"What?" a stunned Naba asked in disbelief, eyes wide open as if he was convinced that Raktim was actually a seer who had returned from the mountains with some psychic powers.

Breaking the stillness, Raktim aded, "Aah! Jokes apart. I was out of the country - studying, working, and partying hard- living a bit of life, you see. After our HSLC exams, we - I mean, my father, my two siblings, and I - shifted to another city. My father had a transferable job. During my 12th, I got a scholarship to Germany, and I have been there ever since."

He paused for a second before continuing, "After finishing my studies, I joined a data management company in Berlin. I am their operational head now. This is my first time in Assam in the last thirty years; I returned just a couple of days ago."

He tossed a few cashew nuts into his mouth, his eyes scanning each of their faces - as though searching for something familiar, or maybe something that had changed.

"And for your second question - how I came to know about this reunion... Well, today everything is on social media - from the colour of your morning's poop to your latest passionate encounter. It wasn't exactly hard to track you down," he smirked, winking at Arlen, who was listening intently.

"But you’re not on social media?" Sima shot a sharp question straight at Raktim.

"Ha ha ha... Sima, oh Sima, you really have not changed. Arey, baba, I may not be on social media, but that does not mean I do not notice things. Social media is a double-edged sword, and it sometimes needs an extra layer of protection. But not everyone keeps their profiles guarded every time- some leave them unguarded, letting the world in—without even realising who is stalking," Raktim said softly, his smile lingering a moment too long.

"Eh kela, baad dey! Ki imaan policegiri kori asu bey? You are Raktim, and I am convinced about it- so are he, she, he, and they. Stop the questions. Come, the bar is getting cold. Kela, aji reunion- cheers to 30 years of our friendship!" Naba piped in, cutting the explanations short and urging everyone to enjoy the evening as he raised a toast.

"Cheers!" The others joined in, raising their glasses in a toast before continuing their chatter. With the doubt surrounding Raktim’s identity finally almost cleared, he was now more warmly welcomed by the group — after all, they were meeting him 30 years later, and he had countless stories to share from the past three decades.

From tales of love and betrayal to stories of rise and fall, countless memories were laid out on the table, and soon nostalgia wrapped them completely. A music system played in the background, but no one paid attention- their stories carried a rhythm far deeper than the songs.

The group was large, made up of twenty-five people, and it was not possible for everyone to stay or sit together in the same place at the same time. They eventually split into smaller groups, with partners and members frequently switching around. Since Raktim was somewhat the centre of attraction that night, more people naturally gathered around him, forming a larger group.

It was Pallavi, Raktim, Naba, Agomonee, Juri, Suparna, Anil and Nitul who had formed a group and were speaking on random topic, when Pallavi dropped a bomb- stunning everyone.

"But Raktim, I have to admit- you have turned into quite a hunk. Wow! Look at your body, oof!" she said, scanning him slowly from top to bottom.

"You could give Mr Sins some serious competition... I mean, you get what I mean, right?" she said, looking straight into his eyes without mincing her words.

"Whoaah... what?" Agomonee, who was sitting next to her, almost spilled her drink.

"What did you say? Sorry, please come again, I didn't get you... What? Why are you looking at me with that strange glare?" she added, then paused, noticing that everyone around was staring at her, baffled.

"What? What's with those looks, everyone? Ugh, sucks! I am drunk, okay? Sorry if I said something stupid... Oh, fuck! Sorry, Raktim, I was- ugh, sucks! Hey, AG, sorry! You know I didn't mean it... Now stop it, all of you, please," she muttered, downing her beer without a pause.

"Ram remains the same; seems like Janu has been replaced," shouted Nitul to the others, repeating what Pallavi had just said and leaving her red-faced with embarrassment.

Everyone burst into laughter; even Raktim could not help but join in, his face turning red - not sure whether to blush, laugh, or hide behind his glass.

The air was filled with the carefree joy of old friends reliving their wild, unfiltered selves, taking them back to the best years of their lives.

"Raktim, now that you are here, there is something we need to confess... something that I need to confess," Arlen said as he and Raktim walked back from the toilet after relieving themselves.

"Every one of you has something to confess-and that to me? What?" he added, confused and puzzled.

"We are sorry... I am sorry bey bhai, for what we did to you thirty years ago. You never knew... it was Deb's, Arnab's, Nayan's, and my fault that the peon found those books. We were ransacking your lunchbox when we stumbled upon the books. Curiosity got the better of us, and we flipped through a few pages. But we never put them back where they belonged. And you know what followed next. We also isolated you," Arlen choked, as tears rolled down his cheeks..

"Sorry, Raksy... for everything you went through- because of us." He broke down and hugged Raktim tightly, muffling in remorse.

"Yes, Raktim, Arlen is right. We are sorry," most of them joined in with Arlen, watching as Raktim gently patted his back to calm him down.

Raktim was overwhelmed, and it was clearly visible in his expressions. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with their apologies.

"Hey guys... Sshh, Arly, it is okay. I am not holding any grudge. And if I had, then why would I have come here or kept track of you people all these years?" Raktim said, wiping Arlen’s tears.

He then looked at everyone and continued, "Seriously guys, I do not hold any grudges against anyone. Whatever happened that day was, perhaps, destined to happen. And the fault was mine. First, I should not have indulged in reading porn books, and secondly, even if I did, I should not have used the school address to get them delivered. And when I had those books in my bag, I should have been extra careful. Just as I said- I left it unguarded."

"I have come today to have fun and to intertwine the past with my present. The past is gone, the future is unseen; let us not destroy what we have — our present. So, come on guys, I am fine. I hold no grudges against anyone," he added, smiling and running his fingers through Arlen's hair.

"Ei saa, moi koisilu nohoi, ee amaak beya pai nathakey buli. Tumi son manuh bey! Cheers to Raktim - the man with a golden soul!" Naba said, raising a toast and lightening the moment. Everyone burst into laughter.

When everyone had settled back into their seats, Raktim lit a cigarette and looked straight at Pallavi, who sat directly across from him.

"Well, Pallavi, I must thank you for the compliment. You know what, I have a habit—I do not like to keep debts on me. You see, among all the girls in the group here today, you are the bombshell. I must admit, you have got quite a figure for someone in her mid-forties—well-maintained, balanced, proportionate, and... oof," he said, without mincing his words, looking straight into Pallavi's eyes, without blinking, much to the shock and surprise of everyone.

No one was ready for the blunt confession that came out of nowhere. All eyes turned to Raktim, who seemed completely unfazed by their stares.

He continued taking slow drags from his cigarette and kept glaring at Pallavi. But, after sometime he felt the everyone around was looking at him, he coughed, trying to regain his composure and ease the tension.

"What happened, guys? Why are you giving me this strange look? I was only complimenting. Sorry if that sounded... bad? Did I? Aaah come on, this much flirting—what? Aaaaa... what? Just because I was away for three decades, am I not allowed to...? Okay, sorry if I got carried away," Raktim said.

Hearing him apologise, Pallavi burst into laughter. Glancing sideways at Agomonee, she said, "Raktim, chill, dude. You do not have to apologise."

Glancing once at Agomonee and then at Raktim, she added, "It is just that... Ram and Janu... Janu and Ram..'"

No one could hold back their laughter watching the two of them, while Raktim just sat there, looking utterly puzzled.

And then came Imdad's elaborate explanation of the story behind Ram and Janu. Agomonee and Raktim could not help but blush, their faces turning red.

Drinks continued, stories flowed, and the night grew heavier and deeper, while the music player kept playing from classic retro dance numbers to present-day trending hits. After a few rounds of incoherent dancing, Raktim excused himself to go to his car to get some gifts.

"Dudes, give me a minute. I have brought some rich Belgian chocolates for you. I was in Belgium last week for a conference and bought these limited editions. Spare me a few minutes," said Raktim as he stood up from his chair to leave.

Pallavi asked if she could join him. She had to use the loo and then said she could help him carry the packets. He agreed.

They had barely left the group and stepped into the dimly lit path when Raktim dragged Pallavi to a darker corner and planted a passionate kiss on her lips- making her gasp for breath.

"I told you, I do not keep debts," he whispered, before kissing her again- this time, harder and more desperate, guided by untamed and wild energy.

His hands were all over her, especially her short skirt and he almost ripped it apart.

"Oh, Raktim… stop it, please… aah!" Her voice trembled; her resistance, faint.

As he was about to unbutton the last button of her shirt, Pallavi returned to her senses and pushed a wild Raktim away.

After adjusting her dress, she walked back to him, kissed him softly, and said, "Why are you sorry? I liked it. I never said I did not. It was just… sudden. This place, the people around, and then you and AG’s story-I thought you were still into AG."

Raktim kissed the back of her ear and whispered, "I have a spacious seven-seater car. The back seat is already turned into a makeshift bed. It is cosy, trust me."

She looked at him in amusement. Before she could speak, he added, "Agomonee and I could have been together thirty years ago, not now. And as I told you, I do not keep debts on me. This was half the interest paid on the principal of thirty years ago. Remember the library corner?"

A stunned Pallavi looked up at Raktim's dimly lit face, trying to read his expression. What he said was true- she had planted a short kiss on his lips while they were alone in the library on a Saturday afternoon. According to her, it had to be the shortest ever lip kiss in the world.

"And what was that about your car having a makeshift bed ready? Ahem! So… are you planning to pay the interest in full today, or in EMIs?" she teased Raktim, running her nails over his chest.

"Debts should be cleared at once. Who knows what is in store for us the next moment? Who knows whether we will witness tomorrow's dawn or it will be our last goodnight today? So..." Raktim said, kissing her again, unbuttoning her shirt and tracing his hands over her soft mold.

Wasting no more time, the two hurried their pace towards Raktim's car, parked outside the main entrance of the resort.

Some secrets are not discreet enough to stay hidden forever, and the passionate encounter between Raktim and Pallavi was not carried out in much darkness either. Their final kiss and slow walk towards Raktim's car were witnessed live by Anil, who had gone to the loo but hid himself in a corner when he saw them sharing a passionately intimate moment.

"And what were we discussing the other night, that Raktim and... And since when did Pallavi have feelings for Raktim? Woah! This is some news!" Naba said with excitement.

"Has Raktim really changed so drastically, or was he always like this? A person who mostly kept to himself and rarely spoke has now become so blunt and candid! Amazing. I doubt if he is actually Raktim," said David, looking at Naba.

"Oh, come on, David. We met him thirty years ago," Naba said, stressing the words thirty years ago before adding, "In thirty years, a lot can change. Even the ugliest-looking Hindi film hero from back then is now a fashion guru. PLEASE DO NOT compare a teenager with a forty-year-old man.

"Come on, Naba, no one changes this drastically unless... Look, I am his age too. Have I changed that much? No. Sure, I have changed physically and emotionally, but when it comes to my values and behaviour, I am still the same decent teenager I was thirty years ago. But he—huh!" David snapped.

"O bey, toi thikei koiso, toi tilmatrowu soloni howa nai. You were a moron then, and you are a moron still. Right, you have not changed at all, David," Naba sorted.

"And dude, thirty years is three decades- an entire generation. What do you expect, that nothing would change in that time?" he added quickly.

David was about to reply when Raj cut him short and said, "Okay, fine, people can change. A person can become candid from being reserved- change is constant. But I still have my doubts."

"About all this mystery surrounding his life- where he works, what he does. Did he ever name the city he moved to after HSLC? No. Did he tell us which university he studied at, or the company he is working for? No. His words mesmerise us and... are we just being fooled by his sweet talk? And what about AG? I do not see a hint of that old soft corner he had for her. We rarely forget our school-time crushes, but he seems to have completely moved on," Raj said sharply.

"Hey! Don’t drag me into this. We were fifteen or sixteen back then, and I have moved on, Raj. I love my husband a lot. I kept quiet when you all were cooking up the Ram and Janu story because we are friends- but this is too much now. You have doubts, go clear them yourself. Don’t drag me into it- I am saying it loud and clear. He is an adult; it is his life—whom he sleeps with or marries is none of my business. Disgusting!" Agomonee snapped and stormed out to the lawn for some fresh air.

"Dhei baal! Ki j maney? Ki nu bacchar dore ja ta boloki aso? Raktim kot? Raktim ahibo ney? Aal baal tohotiyei sinyori asilisun—and now? What is this now, guys? We wanted Raktim to attend the reunion, we looked around for him like madmen, and now when he is here, what are we doing? Even after he provided enough proof to establish his identity, you still think he is an imposter and not Raktim? That he is acting weird? Gawd!" Naba exclaimed, clearly frustrated..

"Yeah, I agree with them too. He is acting weird. And Pallavi- what’s wrong with her? Why does she look so desperate to... Bloody slut," Darshana muttered, punching the air in anger.

"There’s something off about him," he added, lighting a cigarette. "Something more than what we’ve seen—or maybe what we’ve been made to see."

The discussion was heated up, and had turned into an argument with each one of them lashing out at each other like kids- calling names and using abusive. Nitul who was with Agomonee, pacifying her, who wanted to leave the resort and rush back home, when heard the voices were being raised and the situation was getting out of control, rushed back in and yelled, asking all to shut up.

"Shut up, guys. Grow up and stop behaving like uncivilised morons. Grow up! Huh! Is this what we’ve reunited for today? Okay, cool — he is not Raktim? Then prove it! Not by putting up some baseless, nonsensical conspiracy theories or logic or critical reasoning, but with well-documented proofs. He did it! Tell me — what he said about you, were they false? Why didn't anyone counter him back then? Because, deep down inside, you have accepted that he is Raktim. But... but something... alcohol, perhaps... something rooted in our society is stopping you from accepting the truth. THIS IS FUCKING DISGUSTING. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP, all of you, and DO NOT SPOIL THE MOOD, , please. Baal, bhabsilu yaat kisumaan bhaal smriti gorhim, kintu... My foot! What are we going to take back from here? What memories have we built here today? Disgusting!" Nitul was livid.

He was puffing with a mixed feeling of anger, frustration, and desperation. Usually a non-smoker, he had, in the past ten minutes or so, been smoking as if he were a chain smoker. Taking another from the pack lying in front of him and lighting it, he said again, "And what was that with Pallavi? What did you call her, Darshana—slut? Really? She is an independent woman, and it is completely her choice whom she stays with, sleeps with, hangs around with, or does whatever she wants to. Who are we to judge? And why should we judge?"

He lit another cigarette soon after finishing the one he had just lit, and continued his bashing.

"And why the hell should Raktim show his feelings for AG, even if he has any? He damn well knows AG has a family, and he should stay within his limits- that is what chivalry means. Ever heard of it before? This whole 96 nonsense has messed with your heads so much that you all started expecting something exactly like the movie. Baal buli hay kolu aru. We don't know what exactly is going on in his life, but still, we have to pass our our judgements," he snapped, taking a deep, angry drag of his cigarette.

"And guys, do you know this- Pallavi has always had something for Raktim? I once saw her kiss him in the library. They aren't doing anything immoral or unethical. Just because they don't fit within the boundaries we have set, we choose to judge them at our convenience. Let's not do that... let's not do that... let's not judge Raktim again. Who knows if we will even get another thirty years to apologise for judging him once more? And this time, the list will have one more name added to it," Nitul finished his cigarette and crushed the butt under his heel.

"And if you still have some shame left, flush the poop out of your heads- and yes, go and apologise to AG as well," saying so, he hurried to the bar counter.

"So, get your asses straight, buggers. Hey, AG, I am sorry, bro. Kela, amak maaf kori dey bey. Sobokey modey paisey," Naba called out to Agomonee, apologising.

Then, turning to the others who were still standing like statues, he said, "What? Stop staring at me and go apologise to her."

"And listen, one more thing- when Raktim and Pallavi return, behave and act normal- especially you, David. As Nitul said, flush your poop out, man," he warned lightly, before heading to the bar counter for another peg.

Naba's slurred preaching worked; the tense air eased, and things started feeling almost normal again.

"Nitul, I am sorry for being such a dumbass. Yeah, you are right- we have been judging them with our own weight balance. Our Palls has already faced a lot in life. After her mom's tragic death in that accident, she has been fighting all alone. And that miscarriage and divorce made things even harder. As a friend, I should’ve been happy for her. But what I... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did," Darshana said, walking up to Nitul to apologise for her behaviour.

"Pallavi had lost her father while doing her MBBS, then her elder brother and his wife, then her mother. In between, she went through a miscarriage and a bad divorce. And today, if she has found love again, I should have been happy for her as I call her my friend, but I...," Darshana broke down.

Seeing her cry, Nitul, Naba, Anil, Suparna, Anamika, and Agomonee rushed to her and tried to console her.

"And shit must always be relieved, which you did. Good for your gut health," came Naba’s quirky remark, making everyone smile- if not laugh- easing the tension a bit.

The resort was nearly deserted. Apart from the group of over-40-year-old teenagers reliving their teenage days, there were hardly any other guests that night. The manager had mentioned that only one family-a husband, wife, and their three children-were staying in the cottages on the opposite side.

"I think we should leave now. It is almost an hour since we left the group to collect the Belgian chocolates," Raktim told Pallavi, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her chest inside the car.

"They might come looking for us. It will feel awkward if they find us here in such a state," he added, pressing his lips into her neck.

"Such an oxymoron you are, " Pallavi whispered softly, adding, "You want to leave, yet you do not want to leave. You are crazy, driving me crazy."

"The debt was high, so the interest became even higher," Raktim murmured, slowly turning up the volume of the song playing through his car stereo.

"Aren't you bored and tired of listening to the same song on repeat for the last one hour? I know it is a sweet song, but... on a loop for thirty minutes? Don't you think that's a bit too much?" Pallavi asked, when Jayanta Hazarika's Mor Minati played yet again for what felt like the umpteenth time.

They dressed quickly and smoothed out the wrinkles in their clothes with their bare hands. Raktim collected the twenty-four neatly wrapped boxes of his limited-edition Belgian chocolates and glanced at his watch.

"It is almost 11 pm. We must hurry. The chocolates have to be consumed before dawn., or they will expire," he said, locking his car.

"What kind of chocolates come with such a strange expiry time?" a puzzled Pallavi asked.

"Well, didn’t I tell you these are limited edition? These are specially curated limited editions- made just for you," Raktim replied quickly, as the two hurried back to the group.

"Bluffing, aren't you? It is just like you spending time in the Himalayas?" a confused Pallavi asked again.

She playfully punched his chest, pretending to be angry, and together they started walking back toward the reunion zone.

After walking a few steps and breaking the chain of thoughts they were sharing, Pallavi asked, "So, what next? I mean… when are we meeting again?"

Raktim stopped, turned toward her, and looked deeply into her eyes. "I live in the present—neither in my lost past nor in my unseen future. Let us not think too far ahead. Let us live this life moment by moment. If there is a tomorrow, then surely we will meet," he said softly.

He stepped closer, kissed her lips, and pulled her into his arms. She hugged him back passionately, and they stayed that way for a while.

"A lot has changed in me. A lot has changed in you. But whatever this is between us right now—it's beautiful. Thank you, Raktim," Pallavi said, breaking the hug and smiling warmly, looking deeply into his blue eyes.

Soon, they returned and rejoined the group within a few minutes. By the time they arrived, most had already finished their drinks and were waiting for dinner to be served.

Raktim placed the chocolates on the side table and announced, "Guys, guys, guys- listen up! Finish your dinner quickly, then try these. These are specially curated limited-edition chocolates- a special edition for a special bunch of people!"

Everyone loved the surprise, quickly gulped down their unfinished drinks, and ate the assortment of dishes spread before them to their hearts' content.

The jokes and stories continued, and on their request. The songs played at the music system were diverse, ranging from English to Assamese. By late midnight, around went to their rooms.

It was 7 am the following morning. The resort was gradually waking up, with one or two staff members resuming their day’s work. Cleaners were cleaning the dining and resting areas; the dishwashers were washing the plates and other utensils used the previous night; the gardeners were watering the plants; the cooks were in the kitchen — being a Sunday, the resort was expecting a lot of footfall. Everything was going fine when a wild shriek broke the silence.

The owner of the resort and lived a few furlongs away with his wife, two daughters, and parents, was out on his balcony enjoying his morning coffee and newspaper when he was startled by the shriek. He saw one of the cleaners running like a mad person on the lawn. Being far away, he was unable to make out what she was saying.

Just then, his phone rang. It was the resort managers, whose frantic, unintelligible words he could barely understand- except for one: murder!

He rushed to the resort, throwing the coffee mug and newspaper onto the ground, still in his night suit. At the boundary that separated his residence from the resort, he met the manager along with some of his other employees, who were running towards him in panic.

"Sir... sir... mur... murder... There has been a murder... twenty... murder," the manager shouted, panting and struggling to get the words out clearly, while pointing towards the rooms that were booked for the reunion night.

The owner, a close acquaintance of Naba and Nitul, looked at his employees in shock and rushed to the room allotted to them. What he saw there, he hadn’t imagined in his wildest dreams.

Naba, Nitul, and David lay in a pool of blood, thick streaks dried around their mouths. Their eyes were rolled up, and their hands were clutching their necks, as if they had been trying to cough out something.

He then rushed to the other rooms where the batch members were staying, and a scene as horrific as this unfolded everywhere.

"And listen, make sure the news does not spread. Do not let the media in- not until the police arrive. None of you should leave the premises or speak of this incident to anyone until the investigation begins. And DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING in the rooms. People might break in and vandalise," he had ordered the staff, before telling the manager to inform the local police about the case.

The local police, on receiving information about the multiple murders, immediately reported the case to the City Police Commissioner, who rushed to the scene with a convoy of 15 policemen accompanying him.

The resort staff acted as they were instructed, and they kept the matter hushed and under wraps.

The locals were unfazed and did not react to see so many policemen coming to the resort early in the morning, especially on Sundays. They were accustomed to it as most Saturday nights ended in brawls and quarrels between guests and resort staff or between different parties of guests and police had to intervene the next morning. So, that day also seemed usual for them, despite the number of police vehicles being more than usual.

When someone enquired as why the gates were locked and policemen were guarding it instead of the regular guards of the result, those on duty replied that city's top police officials were meeting for an important and urgent meeting later on the day at the resort, and the entire exercise was a part of safety drill and that was the reason two dog squads had also accompanied the police teams.

The resort staff was asked to queue up as the police seized their mobile phones.

The police began their investigations and not from one, or two or three... but bodies were discovered in a total of fourteen rooms, much to the horror of the investigating team.

Even the police commissioner was shaken to the core at the sight of the crime scene. His face turned pale, his eyes wide in disbelief- horror clung to his expression.

"I have seen thousands of crime scenes in my career, but... but this is insane," he muttered, voice tight with shock.

"No sane person… no one with his heart and mind in the right place could carry out such clean but brutal murders," he said, heaving a deep sigh as he moved from one room to another- each one a mirror of the same cold, methodical horror.

The investigating team stood frozen for a moment. Their eyes moved from one body to the next, disbelief clouding their faces as they tried to grasp what they were looking at.

The forensics team had already begun their work- gloves snapping, cameras flashing, evidence bags rustling. The faint click of a camera shutter echoed through the corridor like a ticking clock.

"How many rooms were booked?” the commissioner, who was leading the investigating team, asked, his tone flat but heavy, eyes fixed on the resort staff who could barely meet his gaze.

"Initially, they had booked twelve rooms, but later, around 9:40 yesterday evening, two additional rooms were booked," the manager replied.

"And who booked the extra rooms, and why?" the police commissioner, who had settled on a chair near the cash counter table, asked in a stern tone.

"I don't know his name, but he often comes to the resort. Sir would be knowing more about them," the manager replied, glancing towards the owner.

Heaving a deep sigh, the owner replied, "He is an acquaintance who often comes here- sometimes with his family, sometimes with his friend, whose body has been discovered alongside. He often went trekking in the forest nearby for birding and bird photography, and since I also have an interest in photography, we connected well. Sometimes his dead friend also accompanied him, though he was not a bird enthusiast," the owner went on to reveal everything about Nitul and Naba- how they met, why they met, and how close they were.

"Once he asked me if he could host his school batch's reunion here, I readily agreed and helped with the room bookings. Since it was a large group, I made sure not to accept other reservations for that day," he added, explaining why there were fewer guests staying the previous night despite it being a weekend Saturday.

"School? Which school? And they asked for fourteen rooms?" the Commissioner inquired once again, his tone measured.

"Initially, it was twelve. However, yesterday at around 9:30 pm, Nitul contacted me to inquire whether any rooms were still available. He mentioned that an additional guest had arrived without prior intimation, and they required two more rooms to accommodate him, And.. I am sorry, but I never asked him about his school. It was just... we shared the same passion and...," he added.

"Hmm... So, do you accommodate extra rooms to other guests as well if they ask for it after their initial bookings or this was a special case," the police commissioner asked in suspicion.

"If we have rooms available, we do allow guests to book an extra room in cases of emergencies. It is very rare that guests ask for extra rooms. This was a rare incident," the owner said.

The owner looked tense, chain-smoking one cigarette after another and stealthily downing vodka shots.

The police commissioner observed him closely. The man's nervousness was understandable- after all, a mass murder on one's own premises would shake anyone.

"I hope the CCTV cameras are working fine. Show me the footage from last evening," the commissioner said to the manager, pointing toward the cameras installed along the corridors and outside the rooms in a stern tone. His words snapped the owner back to reality.

"So, the initial booking was for... 23 people? Who was the extra guest, who came late? Do you have any idea," the commissioner asked the owner as they made way towards the CCTV room.

"No sir, there were in total 25 people here last evening," the manager piped in, cutting the owner short.

"And... and it was 24 people who arrived first. The last guest- a man -came around 8, maybe 8:30. I am not entirely sure. There was a power cut for about 40-45 minutes, when man in black came in," the manager said, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening, and referring Raktim as the 'man in black'.

"What? 25? But we have only got 24 bodies here!" the commissioner exclaimed, his voice firm. "Can you identify the man who came last? Do you remember his face?"

He signalled the forensics team to quickly take photos of the victims’ faces on a mobile phone. One of the officers did so and showed the pictures to the manager, who scrolled through them one by one.

"Sir, he is not here among the dead," the manager said, his brows tightening as he scanned the photos over and over again.

"And sir, one more thing- even his car is not at the parking lot. Everyone's car is right there where they were parked last evening, but his car is missing," came the manager's another big and shocking revelation.

"Hmm... A missing man and a missing car- coincidence, or something staged? Either he did it and fled, or someone took his car, maybe even his body, to make it look that way. A bloodbath inside, and now a vanishing act outside. What next? Also show me the parking lot footage," the commissioner said, his voice firm and sharp.

"Mr Manager, are you sure the number of guests yesterday was 25 and not 26? Could it be possible that you miscounted?" the commissioner asked the manager as he began rewinding the CCTV footage to the previous evening.

"Sir, I very well remember, there were 25 people here. Yesterday we had just one more family staying with us. They are sitting in the lobby," the manager replied.

One of the officers rushed to the lobby to check whether or not the manager was telling the truth. Indeed, he was. A police team was already questioning the family.

Meanwhile, the police team was shocked to see the CCTV footage, as in every frame, in every footage, everyone's face was visible except Raktim's- their man in black.

Either he was captured from behind showing his back, or he sat in such a position that the CCTV was unable to capture his face. The lobby, the corridor, or the hall in which the main reunion event took place- his face was not captured in of the CCTVs here.

"What is this? This is brilliant! The man, this man in black- he knows where the CCTVs exactly are, and he has avoided each one of them perfectly. He was aware of the CCTVs' placing from earlier. Is there any clip where his face has been captured?" a frustrated and livid police commissioner shouted at the resort staff.

"What? Where is his car? It is not in the parking? Where is his car?" The commissioner was furious.

"Sir, it was parked not at the main parking lot, but instead at the second parking lot, which is still under construction, and we have not installed CCTVs there yet," the manager revealed in a trembling voice.

"Well, we do not have the car right now in the parking lot. Show me the time his car entered the resort. Zoom on his number plate," the Commissioner said sharply, his tone firm and no-nonsense.

The CCTV operator quickly obeyed. Everyone gathered around as the screen flickered and the recording rolled back. The car appeared, its headlights slicing through the dim light near the gate.

As soon as the number plate came into view, the Commissioner leaned closer. For a second, his eyes widened, and then he almost blurted out- his face showing both disbelief and anger.

"Bloody hell! Is this a car number? ASP... This is a fake registration plate!" he shouted, slamming his hand on the table.

"Someone get me strong black coffee, please," he said, glancing at the resort staff.

He kept staring at the monitor, mumbling something under his breath. The room felt heavier by the second.

Finally, without looking away from the screen, he spoke again- his voice low but firm,"Get me the identities of the victims. Fast."

"I need their identities ASAP. Get me their ID cards, passports, Aadhaar, PAN- whatever they have, from their bags. Get me their phones. Contact the families. Officers, get moving! Buck up; get your act together. We will not be able to keep the matter under wraps for long, and before the media gets to know, we will have to crack something. Boys, come on, come on," the commissioner ordered firmly, unaware that what awaited him was nothing but disappointment.

He instructed the forensics to go to the parking lot where Raktim's car was parked and asked them to scan the area thoroughly and see if they could find any clue, as he continued viewing the CCTV footage.

Initially the party began in the small lawn outside the party hall. Right from the arrival of the first guests to them leaving the party hall at around 1:30 am, the police investigating team watched the footage of nearly 9 hours within half-an-hour. They slowed down a bit during the heated discussion, but as the footage had no sound, they could not make out what they were talking about.

"Why is that there is a blackout at 4:30 am at the exit gate CCTV footage?" the Commissioner asked the owner, showing him the glitch.

Meanwhile, the officers who went to the crime scene to collect identity proofs of the dead, returned empty-handed. They did not have a purse, nor mobile phones or any other documents to establish their identities.

"Sir, we scanned and searched the rooms thoroughly. No one carried a phone," one of the officers reported.

The commissioner immediately checked the CCTV footage and found that no one carried a phone to the reunion area. Upon further scanning, he noticed that those who came by their personal cars had given the keys to the resort's valet for parking it. When asked about the keys, the valet informed that they were right there at the key counter near the cash counter.

Two officers rushed to the cash counter room, retrieved the keys and went to the cars parked outside and opened them. Luckily, the phones were there.

"Sir, we found the phones but it seems no one carried any identity proofs with them," they informed the commissioner while handing over the phones to the forensics. The phones were password protected.

"Get me the documents used to book the rooms. We will get the address there," the commissioner instructed the manager, and he did it as instructed.

"Bingo! Flat Number 345, Rose Garden Apartments... Quick, send a team to this address and bring me someone who will be able to shed more light into the case," the Commissioner instructed his team.

Looking towards the owner, who was in an animated discussion with his staff, the commissioner said in a firm tone, "So, what about this glitch?"

"Sir, the CCTVs of the exit gates reset automatically at 4:30 am and resume back at 4:32 am. This is a technical thing. And the same happens with the CCTVs placed at other locations of the resort at set intervals. The exit's CCTVs reset at the last," the owner replied, visibly tensed.

The Commissioner immediately looked at the footage from other locations, this time more minutely. At 1 a.m., Raktim- their man in black- handed each member a gift box, which they took with them while leaving for their rooms. When he asked the forensics and the police team about the boxes, they denied finding one.

On close monitoring, the Commissioner noticed that all the rooms were in a single line, in the same corridor, and the CCTVs covering these rooms went off at 3:45 am and switched back on at 3:51 am.

"So, the CCTVs covering the rooms and the subsequent corridor reset in six minutes?" he asked the owner. The owner nodded affirmatively.

When asked why six minutes, the owner replied that these cameras had some problems and were to be replaced soon.

"Room Number 006. It was Room Number 006 to which our man in black, the suspect so far, went in with this woman wearing the black skirt and white shirt at 1:45 am. The corridor's CCTV went off at 3:45, and the exit's at 4:30. So, if he is the killer, then he waited till 4:30 to leave the resort. He left in his car- why did no one hear his car's engine rev? Who was on duty at the gate last night?" the Commissioner looked at the resort's staff and asked firmly.

A guard, who had gone to the toilet to dump, came running and shouting that it was him who was on duty at the gate the previous night.

"Sir, I don’t know what happened to me last night, but I dozed off soon after dinner. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I woke up only in the morning when the bellboy shook me vigorously. And sir, it wasn’t just me- even the guard at the parking lot was found asleep," the guard replied, breathing heavily.

"Yes, sir, he is right. All our guards were found asleep this morning, and it's extremely unusual," the manager piped in.

"What? Is this a joke? The script of a thriller film? And don't tell me they ate something given by him- our man in black?" the Commissioner asked glancing at the manager, his tone laced with sarcasm.

The uncomfortable silence and a sense of helplessness on his face were enough for the Commissioner to understand that his guess was right.

He sat down on a nearby chair, drank a glass of ice-chilled water, lit a cigarette, and, taking a deep drag, looked at his team and asked how long it would take for someone to arrive from Nitul's address.

"They are on their way and they shall be here any minute," an officer replied quietly.

The Commissioner lit another cigarette when the forensics team informed him that they had scanned every room minutely and in detail and had collected all the samples.

"Sir, we have completed the initial investigation. We will be able to share more once the detailed post-mortem is completed," the head of the forensics unit informed the Commissioner.

"Did you find these gift boxes in any of the rooms? Or any alien-looking wrappers?" the Commissioner asked the forensics head, showing him the chocolate boxes that Raktim had brought as he zoomed in on them in the CCTV footage.

"The rooms were clean. Prima facie it looks like a case of mass poisoning. it seems, each one of them ate the same thing and died almost within a minute or two. We can call the ambulances and take the bodies for post mortem," the forensics head quickly added.

"Also call for backup forces. The city won't take this lightly. We can't hold off the media circus any longer," he said in a low, pensive tone. Just then, he noticed three women rushing towards him, tears streaming down their faces.

"Sir... what happened to Nitul? Is he okay? I am his wife," one of them cried, as the Commissioner looked at her, and then glanced at the other two women.

"She is Naba's wife, and she is Arlen's," the woman added, pointing to the other two.

"Your men told us our husbands are not fine. Please, tell us what has happened. Where are they? Why is there so much police here?" she demanded, her voice trembling as questions poured out and tears rolling down her eyes constantly.

A few female officers came forward and held the women by their arms while the Commissioner broke the news.

"There are twenty-four bodies inside. We need your help to identify them. Could you help?" he asked quietly.

Despite the officers' efforts to calm the weeping women down, the three nearly collapsed.

"Madams, we understand this is not the right time, but we need your help. Can you identify the victims and tell us why they were here?" the Commissioner asked again, showing them a screengrab from the CCTV footage.

Nitul's wife, slightly more composed than the others, wiped her tears and looked closely at the screen.

"This is my husband, Nitul. He is Arlen. That is Naba..." she said, pointing at faces one by one - recognising almost everyone except a few.

After her, Naba's and Arlen's wives identified several more, but none could name Raktim.

"The Class X photograph of my husband has everyone but him," Nitul’s wife said, her voice breaking.

"Is he the one who killed them?" she asked quickly, looking at the Commissioner's eyes, seeking answers.

She then told him in detail who they were, and why they had come to the resort. Her voice shook slightly as she explained that the Class X group photograph was the only one her husband had of his schoolmates- his only memory of those days.

"You could have got more information from the school, but the building was razed to ashes a few years ago in a fire- just three months after the headmistress, three of her senior administrative staff, and three senior teachers died in a road accident on the outskirts of the city. The school was closed down permanently, and the students were shifted to other schools. All the old records, files, and photographs were destroyed in the fire." Nitul's wife informed, struggling to hold back her tears.

"Sir... I think his name is Raktim! I remember my husband mentioning him to David da a couple of months ago," Arlen's wife quickly added, recalling her husband's words as she struggled to wipe her tears.

At that moment, the Commissioner recalled that they still had Nitul's and Arlen's phones with them. They might prove useful once unlocked.

He immediately asked if anyone knew the passwords. While Nitul's wife had no idea, Arlen's wife did.

The moment the phone was unlocked, Pandora's box lay wide open before them, revealing chilling details.

The Commissioner went through the WhatsApp chats and realised that the man in black was indeed Raktim- the same Raktim who had been missing for 30 years.

From discussions about the 96 movie plot to the humiliation Raktim had suffered, to their decision to apologise to him if they ever met again- the Commissioner and his team uncovered every detail they had talked about. The mystery of why no one carried their phones to the party area was finally explained in those chats.

The Commissioner sank into deep thought after reading the messages. His face reflected a mix of tension, helplessness, frustration, and deep anger.

As he lit a cigarette, the ambulances began arriving one by one. Seeing them, the locals realised that something was terribly wrong at the resort. Some informed about it to the local reporters, and soon the resort was swarming with people and an echoing buzz of voices.

The bodies were brought out of the rooms and loaded into ambulances. When the remains of Nitul, Naba, and Arlen were carried out, a heart-wrenching wail pierced the eerie silence of the resort.

The police avoided the media and their questions, with only the Commissioner assuring them that details of the case would be shared once the post-mortem reports were in.

With ambulances leading and the police convoy trailing close behind, the entourage began its way back to the city from the resort. The news had already caught fire; television screens across the state now flashed with stories miles away from the truth- anchors shouting over one another, accompanied by gaudy graphics and background scores of the lowest order.

The sudden screech of the brakes and the blaring of horns snapped the Commissioner out of his thoughts. For a moment, he stared ahead blankly, trying to gather where he was. The scenes from the resort still played in his mind- the faces, the silence, the messages. The car moved through the empty road, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The resort, now sealed under his orders, lingered in his thoughts like a weight he could not shake off. Inside the car, no one spoke; only the steady hum of the engine filled the uneasy silence.

"Hunt for me as much as you like. Look for me wherever you want. Ask about me, anyone you want, but until I decide, you will never be able to catch me. I told them, and I am telling you as well- I do not keep debts on me. 35 have cleared theirs; 5 more are left to pay," the message read, sending a chill down the Commissioner's spine.