By Day 4, I was no longer just a hotel guest—I was a permanent fixture.
- The security guard had stopped checking on me every few hours.
- The housekeeping staff now avoided my room unless absolutely necessary.
- The hotel manager had accepted that I wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
I had become the ghost of Room 1005—a presence they knew existed but had stopped questioning.
And then, at 3 AM, the hotel decided to remind me that I might not be the only ghost around.
The 3 AM Horror Movie Scene
I woke up to a sound.
Not the usual city noises, not the AC humming, not a distant siren—something inside the room.
A soft thud. A chair moving.
I sat up, heart pounding, looking around the dark, silent space.
Cynic Upstairs: “Congratulations. You’ve officially lost it. This is what four days of isolation does to a man.”
I grabbed the only weapon I had—an empty Maggi cup.
- I listened.
- I held my breath.
- I mentally prepared for either an attack or full-blown insanity.
Then, after one long, terrifying minute… silence.
Nothing.
The room was exactly as I left it.
I opened the door just a crack, expecting to see… I don’t know, a ghost checking in at reception?
But there was nothing—just an empty, eerily lit hallway.
I locked the door twice, took a deep breath, and told myself, “It was just your imagination.”
Then the phone rang.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
Security Guard: “Sir, did you hear something?”
Me (whispering): “Yes… what was it?”
Security Guard: “No one, sir. You are the only guest here.”
That did not help.
The Morning Teams Call: Solutioning from Solitude
By 9 AM, I had almost forgotten the 3 AM incident—until my Teams meeting started.
Today? A Solution Architecture call.
I joined the video call, my camera off, sitting in my balcony like some rogue consultant on the run.
Client: “So, we’re evaluating different deployment models for scalability. Can you walk us through your preferred approach?”
Me (casually, sipping my coffee): “Sure. We can look at horizontal scaling with containerized microservices.”
Cynic Upstairs: “You are literally discussing cloud architectures while sitting in an empty hotel in a city that is completely locked down, eating instant Upma. This is peak 2021.”
The client kept asking deep architectural questions.
Meanwhile, in the background, I was also monitoring my laundry drying on the balcony.
I ended the call successfully, feeling like a tech monk balancing two realities—one of enterprise solutions, the other of surviving on Maggi cups.
The Afternoon: When the Hotel Started Messing With Me
By 2 PM, I heard a knock on my door.
Not the usual housekeeping knock.
A slow, deliberate knock.
Cynic Upstairs: “Oh no. Not again. Either it’s the ghost, or it’s housekeeping realizing they forgot to clean your paranoia.”
I got up, opened the door just slightly, and saw…
Nothing.
No one.
I stepped out, looked down the corridor—still nothing.
I closed the door, locked it again, and stared at myself in the mirror.
Cynic Upstairs: “You realize you are in a hotel with zero guests, and you just heard an unexplained knock? Enjoy sleeping tonight.”
I put on YouTube Puranas at full volume and pretended nothing had happened.
The Evening Teams Call: Pre-Sales & The Struggle for Sanity
By 6 PM, I had another call—Pre-Sales team sync.
I hated these calls. Not because of the work, but because they always followed the same pattern.
The Boss: “Guys, we need to close more deals this quarter. We need to get aggressive now the clients and prospects have accepted the remote delivery model!”
Meanwhile, I was sitting in a silent, abandoned hotel, aggressively stirring my instant coffee like it owed me answers.
Just a reminder—I am the Pre-Sales Head.
Also, the Enterprise Architect.
Oh, and let’s not forget—I have no team of my own.
Cynic Upstairs: “Ah yes, a one-man army. You set the vision, build the solutions, and if needed, you’ll probably deploy them yourself too.”
I took a deep sip of my sad coffee, realizing that in this moment, I was both the strategist and the intern of my own department.
Cynic Upstairs: “Yes, let’s get aggressive. Maybe the ghost will buy an enterprise solution from you.”
Then came the forever discussion.
Sales Team: “The customer wants a detailed architecture demo.”
Me: “Okay, but can you set expectations on scope?”
Sales Team: “Scope? We just told them everything is possible.“
I muted my mic and screamed internally.
This was my life now—solving cloud solution issues from a haunted hotel while eating MTR Poha.
Cynic Upstairs: “Next, you’ll be explaining multi-region Kubernetes while wearing a lungi.”
Honestly? Not impossible.
The Smoke Break That Felt Like a Therapy Session
At 7 PM, I stepped out for my lockdown smoke break—my only human interaction of the day.
The same few stranded souls were there, standing in silence.
One of them, a business traveler, suddenly spoke.
Him (exhaling smoke): “You ever feel like this is all a simulation?”
I stared at him.
Me: “Did you hear knocking at your door today?”
Him: “Yes.”
We both looked at each other, nodded in unspoken horror, and kept smoking.
At this point, I was fully convinced this hotel had some weird energy.
Or maybe… it was just isolation doing its job.
Final Thought Before Sleep
That night, I lay in bed, fully expecting another 3 AM disturbance.
- If I heard footsteps again? I’d ignore it.
- If the phone rang? I’d hang up.
- If the Teams call ghosted me tomorrow? That, I could handle.
I closed my eyes, knowing tomorrow would bring another round of unpredictable madness.
Cynic Upstairs: “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
I smirked in the dark.
Tomorrow, I’d be ready for anything.