The Tale Of 2:05 AM. The Timeline.

………..and he grew very fond of me the moment I stepped into his family as his daughter-in-law. We shared a great rapport.

My father-in-law spoke very little but smiled often.

I never got to spend enough time with him, a regret I will carry for the rest of my life.

But I always felt he wanted to share something with me.

I remember that fateful evening when we received a call that my father-in-law had been admitted to the ICU after falling unconscious in his room.

Arnab (my husband), who had just reached home from work, rushed to catch the next flight to Kolkata to be by his side.

My elder son, then 7, was in his final exams, so my two sons and I couldn't join him. I was in Mumbai, biting my nails, waiting for an update, praying the whole time that it wouldn't be serious.

My father-in-law was a very simple, God-fearing man. He had no worldly desires. He loved all three of his children without any expectations...

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I felt uneasy the whole day after Arnab left, a little guilty, perhaps, that I wasn't by my husband's side the moment he needed me most.

Anyway, I somehow managed to serve dinner to my kids and put them to sleep. But I found myself pacing the room, my strides bigger than usual. It made me tired.

I don't really remember when I drifted off to sleep.

The mobile phone buzzed. I was startled and struggled for a few seconds to realise where I was.

Oh!!! The couch. The lights were still on.

The ringing got louder while the world slumbered. I looked at the clock.

It was 2:05 a.m.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up. At that hour, I wasn't sure what the call could be.

"Hello?" I said, my voice quivering.

"Hello," said my father-in-law on the other end. He sounded cheerful.

"Dad!!" I screamed in disbelief. "It's you! We all got so scared. I'm so glad you're fine."

"Don't worry," he said, his voice hardly audible. "I'll come to visit you in a few days. It's been so long since I've seen my grandsons. I miss them."

"Yes, Dad, we can't wait to see you too. My boys would love that."

The line had already disconnected.

I smiled, relieved.

I'll call Arnab in the morning — he must be exhausted. It's been a long day for him too, I thought, as I stood up to switch off the lights.

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Then the phone rang again.

I woke up.

I thought I was on the couch, but found myself in bed instead.

I looked at the clock, this time in my bedroom.

It was 2:07 a.m. 

It was Arnab on the other end. His voice was calm as he said,

"Shilpa, Dad is no more. He had a brain stroke. The doctors couldn't save him." And he broke down.

"But Arnab, he said he'd be coming here in a few days..."

"Who? Who said that?" "Hello? Shilpa, are you there?" he kept asking, his voice fading.

Tears rolled down my face.

"Never mind..." I hung up, dazed, confused.

Suddenly, I felt cold. I rubbed my palms together and walked to my son's room. I hugged my little one, who might have been deep in his dreams. I was scared to sleep now, but his warmth comforted me.

Still, I couldn't stop wondering: what had just happened?

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Four days later:

After the funeral rites, Arnab was back in Mumbai for prior work commitments.

When I opened the door, I was taken aback.

As per Hindu rituals, after a father's death, the eldest son must shave his head and wear only white for a few days.

So there he stood, in a white kurta and pyjama — the kind of clothes my father-in-law always wore.

He had gone bald too.

Then I realised Arnab was a replica of his father: same features, same build, same complexion, only the son was a little taller.

That resemblance shook me.

I hugged him tight, and time stood still. The first ache of losing a parent, the feeling of abandonment, it all rushed in at once. I wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, but all I could do was cry as I held him.

I couldn't bear to see him like this. He had loved and adored his father.

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That Saturday night, following my usual routine, I pulled the curtains to make the room pitch dark — the way I liked it, so I could sleep in late on Sunday with no sunlight to wake me.

Then...

I stirred at the sound of heavy rain outside. The sky seemed to have forgotten to be quiet.

The room was dark. I checked the time on my phone.

2:05 a.m.

Did I close the windows? was my first thought.

The rain battered the windows without mercy. Thunder growled somewhere beyond the clouds, and lightning briefly exposed the world outside. The trees bent violently in the wind. Then darkness again. The wind whistled, rising and falling like a distant cry.

Something about the night felt unsettling. 

It felt eerie!!

My throat was parched. I reached for the water jug on my nightstand when a shadow appeared in a flash of lightning.

All of a sudden I felt a silhouette watching me from behind.

I turned and saw a tall figure in white, standing at the edge of my bed with both hands behind his back.

I was startled!!!!!!

It was Arnab!

"Arnab," I shrieked. "You scared the hell out of me."

He didn't move. He just stood there.

Nevertheless my younger son, Aarav, just three at the time, often sneaked into our room in the middle of the night and climbed onto our bed, between Arnab and me and slept. 

Another flash of lightning!!!!

His bald head shone in the light.

Assuming Aarav had taken his spot on the bed, I said, "Arnab, why are you standing? Wait, let me shift Aarav over and make some space for you."

It was too dark to see properly, so I got up, opened the curtains, and let in just enough light to check on Aarav. 

And I turned.

I froze.

There was no one standing there.

I reached for my bedside lamp and switched it on.

My husband was fast asleep right next to me — in the same kurta pyjama I'd just seen him standing in.

And Aarav???????

Aarav hadn't come into the room that night.

I ran to check on him. He was fast asleep in his own bed.

I let out a sigh of relief!

Then who had I seen and talked to?

It felt as though someone was 

watching,

waiting,

listening.

Then the wind stopped. The rain softened.

That's when I heard breathing behind me, as if someone had just run a marathon. For the first time all night, the room fell into a strange silence. I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking. 

But it wasn't fear.

I felt cold again.

His words — "I'll come to visit you in a few days" — kept echoing in my ears, his voice soft, almost a murmur.

He had kept his promise.

I opened the windows. The rain had stopped. The world still slept.

Silence had never sounded so loud.

Was it really my father-in-law, wanting to say something? 

I wondered, gazing up at the sky.

It's been 18 years since then!!!!

If only I had a way to know……

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