Girish stood near the window, looking outside through the vertical window grill. The sunlight slowly faded away. The roads, the people, the sounds in the air were new to him. He was far from home.
Girish was sent here for training. The company had provided him with this small old apartment for living. The wiring panels were still visible on the walls, the main door was two old creaking doors that had a hasp bolt on the inside as well as outside. All doors in the house had a hasp bolt. The kitchen needed some cleaning, one of its small windows was left open for months before Girish arrived. The apartment felt old but was otherwise maintained.
The sunlight completely faded away and Girish realised his cup of tea was now empty. He closed the window to stop the waves of mosquitoes that would otherwise enter uninvited.
Girish looked at the big trunk he had brought with him, there was a lot still remaining to be unpacked. As Girish walked back to the kitchen, his eyes again fell on what had been bothering him since he had come here. The closed and locked door of a room, for some reason this room had been kept locked in the apartment.
At first, Girish did not pay much attention to it, simply treating it as something nonexistent. But one evening, exhausted from work, he sat down in one of the chairs in the drawing room and he thought he heard someone walk inside.
Girish thought of calling out to whoever was inside, but realised his tired mind playing tricks. The next day onwards Girish tried to ask around in the office, but no one seemed to know anything about the apartment and especially the closed room, not even the senior employees who had been here for a long time.
The sounds of footsteps inside the room were becoming a frequent feature of the house. Then there was that distinct sound of someone coughing that Girish heard one night after he turned off the television to retire to bed for the night. The sounds were becoming too clear, too existent.
Girish never told anyone what he saw in the room. When Girish fell ill, the company informed his family and Girish’s younger brother Vidit came to take Girish.
Vidit knew about the room from the few casual mentions in the phone calls. He assumed Girish had pushed through the door to break in and see what was inside since the hasp bolt was broken, or had something inside finally broken out as a single hand print could be seen on the inner part of the door.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Behind the Door
Early Morning Memories 