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Khosla College ka Girls’ Hostel, Shimla ke baahar ek chhoti si pahadi par hai. Pura hostel 1960s ka bana hua hai — stone walls, wooden floors, aur purani iron-framed windows. Jab Niharika ne admission liya, usse Room 73 mila, top-most floor ka sabse corner wala room. Local students is room se bachne ki silently koshish karte the, par kisi ne openly kuch bola nahi.
Room 73 ka unique feature tha — usmein ek bahut bada purana full-length mirror tha, wall ke saath permanently fixed. Niharika ne pehli raat uss mirror mein apna chehra dekha, aur uske neeche likha tha ek mata ke mantra ka tukda, paint se likha hua par aadha mita hua: “Aham chh… ksha-tr…”
Doston ne bola, “Bas previous batch ne likha hoga. Ignore kar.”
Pehle hafte sab normal tha. Lekin phir ek raat, Niharika room mein aayi to dekha ki mirror mein uska reflection kuch seconds delay se respond kar raha tha. Usne haath hilaaya, reflection ne 3-second baad haath uthaaya. Wo chonk gayi, par socha neend ki wajah se dikh raha hoga. Agle din, jab usne phone se mirror ko record karne ki koshish ki, video slow motion nahi, lekin kuch aur hi pakad raha tha — reflection exact same pose mein tha, lekin aankhon mein aankh nahi thi. Bas black holes.
Usne room change karne ke liye warden se request ki. Warden thoda ruk kar boli, “Kya tum pehle bhi kisi ko jaanti thi Room 73 mein?”
“Main pehli baar Shimla aayi hoon,” Niharika ne kaha.
Warden ne permission de di. Lekin us raat, jab Niharika bags pack kar rahi thi, mirror mein ek aur ladki dikhai di — uska hi chehra, lekin bal puri tarah geele, aankhon se reddish tears beh rahe the. Room ke andar wo ladki nahi thi. Niharika chillayi, darwaza khola aur daud ke bahar gayi. Hostel ke seniors aaye, poora room check kiya. Kuch nahi mila.
Niharika ko naya room mil gaya — Room 58. Wahan sab sahi tha… do din tak.
Teesre din, brush karte waqt bathroom mirror mein phir wahi ladki dikhayi di — ab ki baar, usne sirf ek word kaha: “Pehchanti hai mujhe?” Uski awaaz reflection ke through clear sunayi di. But real room mein koi sound nahi tha. Woh awaaz sirf us mirror mein ghoom rahi thi jaise confined echo.
Niharika ne us raat purana mirror dubara dekhne ka decision liya. Kuch purani files hostel archive se milti thi — baaki students ki records. Wo wahan gayi, aur ek file mili: “PRIYA VATS — Room 73 suicide case 2019.” Uski photo Niharika jaisi hi thi. Thoda farak tha features mein, lekin uncanny resemblance. Suicide note mein likha tha: “Maine kisi aur ki jagah le li. Ab meri jagah koi aur lega.”
Niharika hostel waps gayi, aur secretly Room 73 ka door unlock kar liya. Mirror ke saamne jaate hi uska reflection normal nahi tha. Wo hila bhi nahi. Bas stare karta raha. Phir dheere se us reflection ne bola, “Original tum nahi ho. Tum bas bani gayi ho—jaise main thi.”
Usi waqt mirror screen ke jaise hilne laga. Jaise liquid ho gaya ho. Niharika peeche hatne lagi. Lekin reflection ne haath mirror se nikaal liya. Real room mein ek aur presence mehsoos hone laga. Niharika ne cheekhna chaha, lekin gala bandh gaya. Reflection baahar aa gaya, chalte hue mirror ke bahar khada tha. Real Niharika ke saath same kapdon mein.
Us next moment mein, original Niharika mirror ke andar thi. Andar ka space khali tha. Sirf darkness aur distant whispers. Baahar ‘Niharika’ normal life jeene lagi. Usne agle din sab ko bataya ki everything was a prank — and she feels much better after “some rest.” Lekin jab bhi woh naye room ke mirror ke saamne jaati — ek black blur uski aankhon ke peeche dikhai deti.
Warden sirf ek baat samjhi thi: Room 73 mirror mein reflection fixed nahi hai. Kabhi kabhi wo tum nahi hota. Kabhi kabhi, wo kisi aur ka chance leta hai — kisi aur ko jaga dene ke liye. Har generation mein ek copy banayi jaati hai. Jaise virus machine mein ghus jaata hai — ek reflection virus.
Aaj bhi Room 73 locked hai. Lekin kabhi kabhi us mirror mein koi saans leta hai… bina real body ke.
