11 A

It was a melodious morning as birds chirped on her balcony, waiting for Sushmita to wake up from a deep sleep.
After she had her rest, she prepared herself to go to work and she hoped that her first day at the new school would be a breeze. She had been dismissed from her previous workplace due to bankruptcy. She had already known that something had been going on since her salary was overdue for two months. It had truly been a blessing to her that she had aced the Interview Seven days back at Ringsbury International School.

Her cab driver had a big mustache. On verifying the location, his goggled eyes popped up even more. He said with astonishment, “RIS? Madam, Are you sure?” “Yes, why?” Sushmita asked, scrolling on her phone. “Madam, it's about the plane crash that happened nearly five years ago?” At this, she tore her eyes away from the screen and asked, “Why? What happened? I was out of the country during that period. Was too busy to check on Indian news.”
The driver executed a U-turn, he said, “Plane crash. Everyone inside died. One sole survivor.” Sushmita’s eyes widened, and he continued, “One of the plane’s wings crashed into a class. Massive damage. Not a student of that class survived. A teacher had died too, I suppose.” “Truly tragic”, agreed the mustached man.
After a moment of silence, Sushmita inquired, “Is there anything else that I am required to know? Like an aftermath?” The driver thought for a bit and replied, “Umm.... well, few children were injured, those who were in the proximity to the crash, you know, but the burns weren’t life threatening.” He then paused, wondering for a while before saying, “Rumor has it that the school’s been renovated at last. Only the portion facing the playground, though.” A soft ‘hmm’ left her throat, signaling her understanding.

A few minutes later, the car took a right and then it came to a halt before a gate which enclosed a three-storey building. “I believe this is your stop. The fare is two hundred rupees.” 
Sushmita’s eyebrows came together, and she said in confusion, “This isn’t the place where I had come for the interview,” she turned to the driver and asked, “Where have you brought me?” “I brought you to the correct location. See, ‘Ringsbury International School’,” pointed the driver at a green signboard which was on top of the gate and the name was written in bold black letters. 
Sushmita mused, “Hmm. Indeed. Please wait for a few minutes I will pay for the drive shortly.” 
She got out of the car and went to speak to the only guard in the blue uniform. After speaking for what seemed like three minutes, she went back to the vehicle and gave the man two creased hundred-rupee notes and the driver went off. 

Apparently, the newly restored school now had three buildings – the authorities didn’t deem it as important to let her know. Her interview had taken place in the other campus of the school which housed the reception and other important offices. Maybe, that was the reason why our protagonist had gotten a little confused. 

Upon entering the building, a tall, spectacled woman (whom she had assumed was the receptionist) came rushing towards her and out of breath she said, “You are the new teacher, aren’t you? Please, this way. Your first class will start in an hour. Hope you have got your timetable.” “Of course,” said Sushmita as they made their way to the staffroom. 

It had been two hours since she came to the school. Her second class of the day was about to start. She refilled her bottle of water and headed down for her upcoming lecture at- class 11, section A. 
On her way down the stairs, a goggle-eyed man with curly locks stopped her and greeted, “Hello! You’re the newbie, right? Going to your next lecture, hmm? Well, 11A’s a bit rowdy, but you’ll handle them.” “Oh, sure,” Sushmita said with a non-plussed look as the man smiled while patting her shoulder. 

“Morning class! I am your new English teacher, and you may call me Ms. Sushmita,” the teacher said smiling.
Her introduction felt flat. She did not get a response so on looking up to do a quick scan, she froze with fear. What she saw was a bloodied mess. All her students had cuts and injuries at several places, and black smoke marred their innocent faces. The walls were soiled with grime and ash with a small touch of blood.
What made her heart leap into her throat was when she noticed her students’ expressions – their eyes had a curtain of sadness, and they were clearly unbothered with the wounds on them.
Sushmita saw all this unblinkingly and when she did blink, neither did she see the ashen room, nor the cuts and bruised marks. It was all perfectly normal with the children beaming at her.
“What was that?” she thought, perplexed. “Must be my imagination,” she whispered, shaking her head.

Sushmita's lecture finally got over After an hour without incident. After refreshing herself, she passed the class and saw that the room was empty - no students or their belongings. They must have gone for sports, keeping their things inside the lockers,” she had thought.

Now, Sushmita had joined mid-session, so she had a ton of work to catch up to. For compensation, she was determined to stay late to rearrange her files and check students’ records. Once she was done, she felt parched and remembered that her bottle was in the class she had last taught. She hurried there without a second thought, took the bottle and headed back. 
Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of steady light, illuminating a room. She sauntered to the room and realized that the students of the class hadn’t left. She was about to reprimand them, when she saw the same image, she had seen two hours after coming to the school. The only difference was that the children had their voice, and they were chanting in their eerily monotone tone, “Why were we wronged? Why wasn’t there any justice for us? Were we that rowdy?”
Sushmita wanted to run but she had cold feet. Her body stiffened with terror and unable to process anything; she collapsed and blacked out slowly, with the painting of horror lingering in the back of her mind.

Thirteen hours have passed since the incident. The ‘new’ teacher was lying straight on a white hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling fan, contemplating about something. She was so deep in thought that she did not hear the door opening.
A doctor, with a stethoscope around neck and a first-aid kit in her hands entered, followed closely by the man with curly hair, Mr. Oberoi. 
Sushmita snapped back to reality when the doctor stated, “Oh! You’re awake. You were passed out like a rock since yesterday!” “I remember and I know everything now,” she said fearfully, with a hint of sadness. 
“Anyways, if the bottle's yours, a child slipped due to it lying on the corridor,” the doctor spoke as Mr. Oberoi placed the thing on the side table. He said, “You’re completely out of the cold, ya know. Thank goodness I was there; I brought you here.” “Ah, thank you,” said the patient clutching her head. “What happened, Ms. Sushmita? Are you sick?” “Nothing of that sort. I just saw something bizarre, Mr. Oberoi.” 

Sushmita took a leave that day. Although she had insisted on teaching, the doctor forced her to be on bedrest. Turned out, that day off proved to be very beneficial for her. 
As soon as she got home, she began digging out all the news articles written about the crash. Almost all of them were regarding the victims’ family, most of them were related to the investigations and trials and some of them were about a certain person.
This ‘certain’ person was Ayushman Singh – the sole survivor of the tragedy. As his face appeared on the screen, a wave of anger and resentment pulsated through her veins. She looked up all his social media profiles which showed him enjoying his life carelessly, and; his address.

C-22, Rajdhani Avenue, Street 3; the address read.
Sushmita put on a pair of fake eyelashes and eyebrows and temporarily altered the cornea of her eyes. She wore a brown-haired wig and even went as far as to dress her face. These worked as perfect disguises, she thought as she pressed on the doorbell.
The door creaked open and the owner of the house looked at the woman with a questioning stance. The woman’s eyes were beginning to blaze with fury, but she somehow managed to conceal her anger.
She introduced herself, “Hi! I was one who called you in the morning.” A look of realization passed Ayushman, he said, “So you’ve come for the interview. Please enter. Come in.”
The disguised woman entered the apartment cautiously, observing every nook of the house. As the man led the way, he said, “The crash few years ago was frightening.” “You mean a couple of years ago.” “Uhh...yeah! Right! Two years since the incident! Only a fool would say that it wasn’t terrifying,” he said, fumbling. “Anyways, here, keep the tripod on the table. The background will be great,” he said pointing to a round wooden table at the end of the room. “Haven’t had an interview in a while. After the crash, everyone wanted a piece of me. Then they forgot.” “Can you please quit small talk and get on with the discussion?” Sushmita requested, presenting a tight-lipped smile. “Wow! You’re quite straight-forward! I’ve dealt with few people just like you for the past two years and dealing with you will just be fine.” “Uhh...huh. Well, I’m sorry if my demeanor upset you,” she said keeping her smile in place. “Shall we proceed?” “Sure, why not?” 
To maintain her cover, Sushmita asked basic ‘everyday’ questions – How did you survive, state of the plane and other things as such.
“So, what was the seat number?” Sushmita asked, even though she knew the answer and sensing where the talk was going to go, Ayushman replied, “If you mean the seat on which I sat on, it was 11A. But I assume you already know that.” “Of course! And there is a big coincidence! The only survivor sat on that seat, and the plane, by chance, toppled into which class? Obviously, 11A!” 
At this point, Sushmita’s anger became noticeable. Ayushman, being a keen observer, did not miss the expression, so he said, “Definitely! It was a shocker for the media and the world, not to mention me! Now, let’s take this convo seriously. Starting with you, taking off that ridiculous disguise! Napkins are in the third drawer.” 
Sushmita’s face turned white. Her pupils dilated with panic and fear. However, she quickly managed to regain her composure and asked, “You, you knew?” “Why, yes,” Ayushman said coldly. “Your eyes are extremely familiar even though you wore such cheap lenses. I knew the moment I opened the door. Besides, I had the desire to play along, but your last comment really set me off.” 
Sushmita saw no point in keeping the accessories, so while removing her wig, she said, “Are you going to confess your offense? You could’ve saved those kids, yet you didn’t.” Ayushman chuckling drily, said, “Hah! Those children who you think are spirits? They are nothing but hallucinations, you woman!” He stopped his laugh midway and started, “Ah! That reminds me! Aren’t you wondering how many of your memories were kept suppressed? A friend helped.”
The teacher grabbed his collar roughly and thundered, “And you committed such a crime when I passed out, huh?” “Passed out? More like passed away,” the man grinned to himself.

As her glaring eyes bored into his cold ones, Ayushman was vaguely reminded of the past. He could feel a pang of conscience in him. 
He had thought that it would be a new start for him, but he had not expected it to be catastrophic. A few seconds after the take-off, the plane began to shake violently. Multiple plane parts fell like a house of cards. The emergency door gave away, and he saw that the ground was dangerously close. Like a sensible person, he chose to save his life and jumped. He had limped away and didn’t dare to look back. Ina moment of thought, he heard an explosion. Sounds of glass shattering and the wailing of children reached his ears.
From that day onwards, his life became a closed loop – hospital, interviews, eat and sleep. That was his life then until, a woman who taught at that ‘school of tragedy’ came to visit him.
Her voice was filled with accusation towards him when she claimed that the children could have been saved. She wanted to take the matter to legal hands. He had coaxed her a lot, but that yielded nothing.
Accidently, he stumbled upon the unsettling truth that she hallucinated ghostly apparitions, and it was not long before he found her dialing the police. In a moment of urgency and dread, he knocked the phone off her hands and banged her head repeatedly in the apartment railings, killing her instantly. 
As his rage and panic subsided, it dawned on him what a gruesome thing he had done. At the desperate opportunity to ‘undo’ his crime, he sought help from this friend.

Burying the past, Ayushman mockingly said, “If you wish to know how we accomplished such a feat, my friend’s nearby. He’s a genius.”
Sushmita’s expression darkened, her eyebrows furrowed, and she shoved him hard, back onto the couch. “Do you think I want to interact with him? What I desire to do right now is to put you both behind the bars and make you two face severe judgement,” she said storming out.
As she was about to twist the doorknob, the man’s voice rang out, “You can enter now! Your graceful present is required here!”
The door opened, revealing a goggle-eyed man with his straight hair pushed back. Sushmita space changed into confusion as she failed to identify the man before her.
“Can't recognize who I am?” the man said, flashing a twisted smile. He pulled out a curly wig from his sling bag and put it on. “Mr. Obe...Mr. Oberoi?” “So, you do recognize me!” “Obviously. She tends to recognize the past. There's no chance she'd forget you,” Ayushman smirked, coming over, fixing his collar.
“Vivek, why don't you show her your other identity? She may have figured it out by now.” “You.... You're the c... cab.... cab driver,” The female stammered.
“So, Ayush, what should we do with her now?” “You know about the drill. Just finish her off,” Ayushman remarked carelessly, waving his hand.
Still distracted by Vivek's revelation, Sushmita barely heard a word Ayushmann said.
Soon, she felt a sharp, stinging and painful sensation on her neck and immediately began to feel drowsy. Her knees buckled and through her half-lidded eyes, she saw an evil glint in Ayushman’s eyes. His malicious words pierced her, “Such a shame that you had to die four times, thrice by the same method.”
Sushmita’s death was fast, yet slow. She felt her breath becoming ragged and eventually her lungs gave out. She tried taking in as much air as she could, but it was to no avail. Her vision gradually succumbed to darkness, and she was unable to see the light again.

Vivek checked the body’s pulse and said, “She’s unalive.” “Great! But that was quicker unlike the other times.” “Yeah, I added an extra dosage of the pill.” 
Ayushman sat on the sofa and after drinking a few sips of water, he said, “Well, this one didn’t even last two full days!” “True. I didn’t monitor her efficiently,” Vivek said with mild disappointment. “That’s fine. Just be more vigilant next time.” “Hmm,” Vivek said, nodding his head. “I’ll go place this body back in the capsule.”
“How much time will it take to create another clone?” “A week.” “Fabulous! I’m off to brief the guard and the receptionist on the details,” Ayushman said, getting up from the sofa and reaching for his 22-carat gold watch.
Somewhere in the city, a capsule sat empty, waiting.