The hostel was quieter than usual. Most of the other boys had gone home for the long weekend. Arjun’s room had been rearranged again: the two mattresses now formed one wide, low platform that took up almost the entire floor. Eighteen lengths of soft rope lay ready. The leather belt hung from the chair. Two full bottles of coconut oil stood open. A small wooden paddle he had bought that afternoon rested beside them. The tube light was off; only three thick candles burned, throwing slow-moving shadows across the walls.

Eighteen soft knocks came at exactly the agreed time.