It was my day off today, but I decided not to go home. I wanted to stay in and get some revision done. Not that I woke up early we’d slept far too late last night. After the “rendezvous” we had, none of us dared to sleep in our own rooms. So we camped out in Manjit’s room. Seven of us. Don’t ask me how we fit Nurjahan, Maria, Manjit, the two Noraisahs, my roommate, and me. Bodies sprawled everywhere, like a game of human Tetris.
This morning, Nurjahan, Maria, and the two Noraisahs were all on morning duty. My roommate was off too, but I didn’t see her at breakfast. She’d vanished early, leaving me a note: Going to MacRitchie Reservoir for my morning run. Preparing for the Ministry of Health cross country. She’d mentioned it a few days ago. I’d never been to MacRitchie. Maybe I should join her one of these days.
Why did we sleep so late last night?
It was Manjit’s birthday, and of course we had a little party in her room. And, as expected, once the cake was gone and the lights dimmed, the conversation turned to ghost stories.The latest gossip? Another intruder this one just two days ago.
One of the girls across our cubicle said her room had been ransacked. Strangely, nothing was missing. Then the talk turned back to the intruder the hostelite’s boyfriend who fell from the toilet window and fractured his humerus.
Apparently, he told his girlfriend he’d never set foot in the hostel again. No matter what. We pestered her to ask him what exactly he saw. Finally, she told us: “He said it was a figure covered head to toe in a white sheet. Couldn’t see the whole face just the eyes. And it stood there, in the passageway… looking straight at him.”
That detail about the eyes… it stayed with me long after the chatter moved on. At 2130 hrs, Jamunah arrived from her afternoon duty with a whisper that made us all sit up.
“I think I saw something… up on the 4th floor.”Before we could respond, Maria shot to her feet.
“Come on — let’s investigate! This is a good time.
”Six pairs of eyes turned toward her, incredulous.
“Huh?!” we all exclaimed in unison.Maria was half Chinese, half Indian. Tall, fair, and strikingly pretty — the sort of face that could pass as either Chinese or Indian, depending on who was looking. Fluent in both Mandarin and Tamil, but with a curious streak of bad luck when it came to boyfriends.
She’d told us more than once about dates where the man never showed up and yet, she would agree to see him again. Medical students had tried, she refused. Several doctors, especially the housemen, had asked her out also a no. But a man who treated her badly? She’d chase him.
“Yeah, why not!” she continued, undeterred. “Let’s go up there and investigate. Let’s put this thing to rest once and for all. What’s there to be afraid of? There are six of us, and only one of… whatever that is, up there.”
“Yes, she’s right,” Manjit Kaur chimed in. “We’ve been hearing stories all the time. Why not go see for ourselves?”It took a moment for their words to sink in.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “You and Maria go in front then. We’ll follow from the back.”
“Set. Let’s go.” Manjit stood up and headed for the toilet.“Hey! Where are you going?” I called after her.“Taking the broom lah… it’ll be our protective device.”
And so it began — six of us, in pyjamas, creeping up the stairs one slow step at a time toward the 4th floor.The lights were off, as per the Hostel Supervisor’s rule: lights out at 10 p.m. Since the 4th floor was almost always empty, they stayed off completely. Maria led with her torchlight. The door to the small cubicle of four rooms was shut. A saloon-style half-door, no higher than 18 inches.Manjit, leading the pack, froze.
“Shhhhhhh! Did you hear that?”We gathered close, ears straining toward the wood.“Somebody is crying.”
“Maybe the cries of the dead soul… you know, the nurse who committed suicide,” Jamunah murmured.
“Chey! How can you talk like that at a moment like this?” Maria snapped.
“Shhhhhh! You girls are too noisy lah!” Manjit hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. She pushed the door open slowly. The crying was coming from the second room on the left, nearest the toilet.
“That’s the room,” Jamunah whispered. “The one they say she died in. You really want to go in there?”
“We’re already here,” Manjit said, gripping the broom tighter. “Let’s just finish this once and for all.”
She took her first step toward the room. We clustered behind her, holding our breath.And then —
“Aaaaaaaaacho!”I sneezed. I’d been fighting it, pinching my nose to hold it back, but it burst out anyway.Every head whipped toward me.
“Did you hear that?” Manjit whispered. The crying had stopped. We moved to the second room from the left. The door was slightly ajar.
Someone had been in there. Every other door in the cubicle was closed tight. Maria flicked her torch inside. The beam slid over bare walls, empty bed frames, closed cupboards. No sheets. No signs of life.
“I’m sure the crying came from this room,” Manjit insisted.We all nodded we’d heard it too. They moved on, shuffling toward the toilet to check the other rooms. I lingered. That’s when I saw it. Half-hidden in the shadows beneath one of the beds something flat, glinting faintly in the torchlight’s afterglow.
A photograph. I bent down and pulled it out. Two friends, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, laughing. One of them I knew well. The other… looked like a girl, dressed like a girl but I knew she wasn’t. She was a he. A transvestite.
Somewhere at the back of my mind, a conversation stirred. “He’s my good friend. We grew up together in the village. When our village was relocated for the reclamation project, we moved to the new housing estate. We still stayed close. He went to a different school, but that never mattered. I knew about his night activities, but I never cared. We were like sisters. He would meet me after school, showing me his latest outfits, his new makeup sets. Sometimes he’d dress up just to make me laugh. One day, he told me he had something important to tell me urgent, he said and that he’d wait for me at our usual spot. I waited for hours. He never came. Later, they told me they’d found his body. In his hand, he was clutching this photo. They said he jumped from the 10th floor. I’ve been asking the same question ever since: Why? What was it he wanted to tell me?”
I slipped the picture into my pocket. The others didn’t need to know about it. This would be mine to keep. When I caught up with them, they’d already checked the other rooms and the toilet. Empty no soap, no toilet paper, just dust and cobwebs thick enough to write in.
Clearly no one had been here in years.
“Okay, we’ve seen it all. Let’s get back to our room,” Jamunah said, leading the way. We filed out in a tight little group, brooms and torchlight in hand, still glancing over our shoulders as though the “white figure” might suddenly trail after us.
By the time we reached the third floor, the tension had started to loosen into nervous laughter. Maria claimed she hadn’t been scared “at all,” which made Manjit roll her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Jamunah swore she heard the crying stop exactly when I sneezed, and the others decided this was proof the “ghost” didn’t like me.
I laughed along, but my hand brushed against my pocket feeling the edge of the photograph I’d slipped in there earlier. I kept quiet. Some things didn’t need to be shared. By the time we made it back to our cubicle, it was nearly midnight. One by one, the lights went out. The building settled into that deep, humming silence only hostels have at night.
Sleep didn’t come easy every creak of the hostel made me think of the 4th floor. The next day was my day off. I decided not to go home, thinking I’d stay in and do my revision. The hostel was quiet my roommate and most of the girls were on morning duty. I made myself some tea, spread my notes across the desk, and tried to concentrate.
Somewhere after lunch, my eyelids started to win the battle. I stretched out on the bed “just for a minute” and the next thing I knew, the room was warm, still, and I was deep in the kind of sleep where the world feels far away.
Only to be shaken awake.“Wake up! Wake up! It’s urgent.”I squinted at my roommate. “What’s up?” I mumbled, checking my watch. Almost 4 p.m.
“Jamilah needs our help,” she said, like she was announcing a medical emergency.
“What kind of help?”
“It’s about her boyfriends.”I blinked.
“How many boyfriends does she have?”
“Currently two lah… that’s all I know. Now suddenly both of them are coming today to see her at the same time.”I sat up.
“And how come we’re all getting into this?” She crossed her arms.
“Because Jamilah is our friend, and right now she needs our help. So we help her. You’re in or out?”I sighed.
“So what exactly does she want from us?”
“To distract one of them. While she sorts things out with the first, we go and talk to the second one. Once she’s done with the first, she’ll come and take over.”
“And who’s the second one?”
“Remember that Chinese guy from the officer’s function we went to? I think his name is Neo.”Of course I remembered Neo. Jamilah came in after that function in his car.“I already told Jamilah, if we help her this time, seafood dinner at Toa Payoh Central. We choose the most expensive items tiger prawns, the biggest lobster, the freshest fish.”
“You’d do all this just for seafood dinner?”
“Why not? She’s a rich man’s daughter. Should be no problem. How else can we make her spend on us?”
“Okay, so what’s the plan?”
“You see, our room is in a very strategic location. From here, you can see both places where the action will happen. Jamilah will meet the first one in front of the mortuary car park, while we meet Neo at the car park in front of the Emergency Department.”
“How romantic a date in front of the mortuary,” I muttered. “And who is ‘we’?”
“We equals Manjit, Maria, Jamunah, and me. They’re in too. All for seafood dinner.” She leaned closer. “Now this is your role. You’ve seen the charade game show, yes? What’s the sign for ‘everything is according to plan’?”I showed her the gesture.
“Good girl. That’s all you need to do. You stay in the room, standby at the window. Jamilah will position herself so she can see you. We will do the same. All you have to do is signal: ‘Everything is according to plan.’”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then you signal ‘Go to Plan B.’”
“And Plan B is…?”
“We invite Neo to our hostel lounge, say Jamilah is held up in the ward and she’ll meet him there.”
“You’ve got all this sorted out, eh?” I said. She grinned.
“Of course.”
Operation Seafood began at 4:30 p.m. sharp.
From my “Command Post Alpha” our window I could see both target zones. At the mortuary car park, Jamilah leaned casually against the railings, chatting to First Boyfriend.
At the Emergency Department car park, Neo’s silver car pulled in, intercepted immediately by my roommate and the rest of the team. So far, smooth. I flashed the “all clear” signal. Then it happened, First Boyfriend pointed toward the canteen.
If they went that way, they’d pass right by Neo. I swung into action, signalling “Plan B” a big, dramatic circle over my head. Across the compound, my roommate caught it instantly, leaned into Neo’s car window, and steered him toward the lounge.
Disaster averted.
Five minutes later, Jamilah strolled into the lounge looking like she’d just come back from a stroll, not a romantic crisis. That night, over chilli crab, lobster, and tiger prawns at Toa Payoh Central, she raised her glass.
“To my rescue team,” she grinned. My roommate smirked. “To Operation Seafood — mission accomplished.”
