Panic. Appu fumbled to lower the volume. Unni tried to jump down from the bunk, but his lungi snagged on a nail. He hung there like a startled bat.
The Vatican sighed, a long, tired sound. He looked at the speaker. He looked at Rajan's hopeful, terrified face. Then, the old priest did the unthinkable. He pulled out his own phone.
The room erupted. Not with the usual soft Mohanlal classics, but with a gritty, bass-boosted remix—a fusion of a peppy 90s track layered over a heavy metal guitar riff. It was chaotic. It was loud. It was perfect.
The whole hostel lost its mind. Boys poured out of their rooms. They formed a circle. Someone grabbed a broom as an air guitar. Another used a steel tiffin box as a bongo.