The next morning.
The usual bustle in the office corridor.
Someone rushing with files,
someone at their computer,
someone chatting over tea.
But in the last room of the third floor, an unusual kind of silence.
Amoresh Saha opened the door, stepped in, and froze.
His eyes went straight to behind the desk.
That old chair.
Dark wood.
Thick armrests.
Strange carvings on its back.
Everything as before.
Amoresh moved forward slowly.
Last night's words kept circling in his mind—
I remember everything.
He touched the armrest with his hand.
The wood was cold.
Nothing unusual.
He told himself,
"A trick of the mind."
Just then there was a knock at the door.
Tap... tap...
Ranju Singha walked in.
A familiar smile on his face.
— "Sir, Amrit Singh has come again."
Amoresh, without taking his eyes off the chair, said,
— "What does he want?"
— "His file."
— "Tell him it'll take time, as per the rules."
Ranju smiled a little.
— "Sir, he has no time to understand rules. But..."
He pulled an envelope from his pocket.
Placed it on the desk.
— "The man's finally understood."
Amoresh looked at the envelope.
A few seconds of silence in the room.
Then he reached out his hand.
Right at that moment—
Crack!
A tremendous sound.
Both of them jumped.
The chair's right armrest had trembled slightly.
Ranju stepped back.
— "Sir...!"
Amoresh said nothing.
He kept staring at the chair.
A faint reddish glow seemed to pass over the wood.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then everything normal again.
Ranju said,
— "Did the chair just move?"
Amoresh said sternly,
— "Old wood. Just a sound."
But there was no confidence in his own voice.
At noon Pradipta Das was sitting in the records room, working.
Suddenly he saw Amrit Singh standing at the door.
Despair on his face.
— "Didn't it get done?"
Amrit shook his head.
— "No."
Pradipta was about to say something, then stopped.
He knew — in this office, speaking the truth wasn't easy.
Just then Amrit said,
— "Babu, I'm a poor man. If I can't pay, will my work never get done?"
Pradipta's face went pale.
He said quietly,
— "Give me your papers."
Amrit left.
Pradipta picked up the file and looked through it.
All the papers were fine.
No problem at all.
Then why was the file stuck?
Toward evening the office began to empty.
Sulata Ray came to check on her work.
Pradipta told her,
— "Your file is still on the sir's desk."
Sulata was startled.
— "For how long?"
— "A long time."
Sulata stayed silent for a moment, then said,
— "Can I speak to him myself?"
Pradipta hesitated.
Finally said,
— "Speak carefully."
Sulata walked toward Amoresh's room.
The room's door closed.
Pradipta stood outside.
He couldn't hear what was being said inside.
But after a few minutes, suddenly—
Thud!
The door flew open.
Sulata came out quickly.
Anger on her face.
But no sign of fear.
Pradipta stepped forward.
— "What happened?"
Sulata only said,
— "You'll understand later."
Then she left.
Pradipta stood staring at the door.
Inside, Amoresh alone.
And behind him—
the chair.
Half past ten at night.
Amoresh alone in the office.
Ranju had gone.
He was about to switch off all the lights and leave.
Suddenly it struck him—
the chair didn't seem to be in its usual place.
He stopped.
The chair was nearly two feet from the desk.
Sweat gathered on Amoresh's forehead.
He remembered clearly—
that morning the chair had been right against the desk.
He walked forward slowly.
The writing on the armrest, again.
But this time, beneath the earlier three words, another line.
The reckoning has begun.
Something clenched in Amoresh's chest.
He stepped back.
Just then—
the chair's armrest rose slowly on its own.
Then—
Thud.
An old file fell to the floor.
Amoresh looked at the file.
He recognized it.
This was the file—
that he had deliberately held back three years ago.
Dust had gathered on it.
But written on it, in red ink, a single word—
Why?
Amoresh didn't go any closer.
He ran for the door.
Opened it and rushed out.
Reached the corridor, gasping.
Then looked back.
Door open.
Darkness inside.
The chair, still.
But it seemed to Amoresh—
someone was watching him from within the darkness.
Downstairs, at that same moment, Tapan Ray was standing.
Even after retiring, he sometimes still came to the old office.
Seeing Amoresh rushing down the stairs, he was surprised.
— "What happened?"
Amoresh gave no answer.
Tapan slowly looked up.
Toward the dark window of the third floor.
The smile faded from his face.
He said very softly,
— "So... it's started again."
Amoresh stopped.
— "What's started?"
Tapan looked at him.
After a moment of silence, he said,
The chair has awoken.
Amoresh's face turned white.
And on the third floor, in the darkened room—
the old chair slowly turned to face the window.
As if it were waiting—