Another Heaven. Annu Subramanian

Although her curiosity had prompted her to open the door, the stranger’s appearance made Tina extremely nervous. The woman’s furtive glance and something strange that twitched along her temples—everything spoke of unusual behavior.

      Panting for breath, the young woman continued. “I…I came running from that room,” she pointed at the other end of the corridor, “I must get out of here. Please don’t ask me for details. Hide me. They torture me. Please hide me.”

      At Tina’s apparent hesitation, the stranger began to cry.

      “Please, I beg you. I need your help. I came to your room and knocked on your door because I knew you were the only visitor in this building. I overheard the warden telling someone about you, and I know this room is usually allotted for visitors. Please believe me, and this room is the only one upstairs that has a direct exit to the grounds outside,” the young woman begged desperately, throwing rapid glances at the door inside the room leading to a set of stairs.

      But the stranger had no chance to complete her plea. Hearing hurried footsteps on the stairs from the other side of the hallway, she turned immediately and had her back towards Tina. In an instant, she transferred whatever she was clutching to her right hand, which she held against her back. Tina noticed that it was a crumpled paper. As the people on the stairs neared Tina’s room, the bizarre visitor tossed the paper on the floor and started to run, but the men surrounded her in no time.

      Tina was not sure what kind of intuition prompted her action at that moment. She pushed the paper with her foot and saw it safely sliding under the cot. As she instinctively tried to shut the door while her heart seemed to thud out of its shell, a couple of men walked to her door. One of them was the manager. The other man had a thick mustache and a nasty scar on his right cheek.

      “I haven’t seen you before. Have I, Madam?” the man with the scar asked her. He seemed a little stunned as he gaped at Tina, assessing her frightened brown eyes, questioning her foreign appearance.

      “No,” stammered Tina, trying to steady her quivering lips. “I... I was stranded at Seloor station, and I thought this was a YWCA facility.”

      “Yes, yes,” he continued, exchanging a glance with the manager. “Madam, did that girl bother you? Did she say anything?” His voice held more anger than concern.

      “No.” Tina swallowed anxiously before asking, “Who is she? What’s wrong with her?”

      “She is mentally disabled. She’s been trying to run away. Are you sure she didn’t say anything?”

      “No, she did not,” Tina replied firmly. “She was just crying and knocking on the door.”

      “She must be crying because we’re taking her to an asylum.”

      “But she looks…”

      “Madam, shut the door, bolt it, and stay inside.” His formidable tone, unbendingly set on steel, discouraged her from asking more questions.

      As Tina was about to shut the door, she saw the warden in the group that was crowding the hallway. She secured the latch and retreated into the room, trying to calm her pulsing heart. Mentally disabled! Could that girl really be insane? Who were those men? Her relatives? Employees of the asylum?

      Tina sat on the cot and turned off the alarm on the phone. Sleep was impossible at a time like that. Anyway, she had intended to wake up in the next half hour. Those men... Men! And that warden would not let Dr. Shaker stay in the foyer overnight because the place was filled with women and women only. Why did she lie? What were those men doing there? Obviously, they must be staying there if they had come to transport the poor woman to an asylum. But why was she staying in a shelter? Was her group stranded at Seloor station as well?

      Tina took a few deep breaths. The recent panic made her feel parched, and she reached for the water bottle in her backpack. Her mind jumped to each frame of the incident while meandering through various, unfamiliar faces. The young woman’s pathetic face was etched in her memory. She could never forget that face. And those men’s severe expressions—intimidating, daunting. And Tina was sure she saw the warden among the men who were chasing the unfortunate woman. What was her role in that group? Was she assisting those men to capture the fugitive?

      Tina wandered to the window and stared at the grounds steeped in darkness. Except for a stray cyclist in the distant lane, there was no activity. When her glance fell on the edge of the paper under the cot, she picked it up curiously. It was nothing but a scrap cut out from a newspaper. Why did the fugitive leave it behind? Was she trying to convey a message? Disappointed that it was nothing important, she decided to ignore it. She retrieved her laptop from her backpack and tried to send a message to her aunt, but there was no wireless connection. Having nothing else to do, she decided to take a quick shower. When she entered the bathroom, the same nauseating and revolting odor that had invited the visitors the previous evening permeated the atmosphere. She undressed and turned on the tap while looking for a shower fixture. There was none. All she saw were a dented metal pail and a plastic, quart-size mug into which a cockroach was contemplating a sly journey. A skimpy flow of cold water trickled into the beat-up pail. She poured a few mugs of water on her unwilling limbs while working up a good lather with her fragrant soap. When she returned to the room, there was a knock on the door.

      “Who is it?” asked Tina, considerably nervous.

      “It’s me, the warden. The gentleman is here for you.”

      “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes. Thank you for the message.” Tina picked up her belongings and bolted out of the room. As she began to walk towards the staircase, she noticed another set of stairs at the other end of the corridor. Again, the size of the building impressed her—rundown but roomy. She quietly and quickly walked to the foyer.

      “Good morning. I managed to hire a car to get us to Pennoor. Did you rest well?” asked Shaker, taking the suitcase from her hand.

      “Yes. I’m so glad to see you.”

      Tina briefly looked at the warden, trying to trace some kind of acknowledgment of what had happened with the fugitive, but her rigid face expressed nothing. Her hair was still restrained in a tight bun, and Tina vaguely thought that everything about the woman was a little tight—her generous breasts seemed to be stuffed inside a one-size-too-small blouse, and her cotton sari was clinging to her solid frame like a wet newspaper on a chunky pillar. The manager appeared at the front desk, looking even more haggard than he had seemed the previous night, his furtive glance traveling from Tina to the warden. When he opened the front door, Tina followed Shaker to the small courtyard that was already draped in amber streaks of dawn. Her eyes wandered to the number plate nailed on the lintel—19 Temple Street. A strange name for a street that had no temple in sight, she thought. She glanced at the rusty number plate again and at the shabby wall that badly needed a coat of paint and followed Shaker to the waiting car. He deposited the suitcase in the trunk and opened the door for her. Tina settled in, dropped her backpack by her feet, and turned her head to look at the receding structure with an immense sense of relief.

      “Where to? Pennoor?” asked Shaker. “I’m sure you’ve eaten nothing since yesterday. May we stop on the highway for breakfast in half hour or so, or would you like to stop somewhere right now?”

      “May we stop on the highway? I can’t wait to get out of here.”

      He laughed and drove through the rusty iron gates.

      “This is a beautiful countryside. It’s just that the building looks quite bizarre in the middle of this lush greenery. These are paddy fields?” asked Tina.

      “Yes. They grow a lot of rice here. And yes, that building could use some attention. It must’ve been a gorgeous structure at one time.”

      “What do they do with the money they collect?” asked Tina, looking again at the receding hostel.

      “The money goes into some pockets, certainly not the right ones.”

      Tina’s attention was caught again by the decaying building behind a line of trees in the middle of the paddy