By Bina Nayak

Anita’s day started out bright and shiny. Just one small editing assignment on her job list—that would take an hour tops—the rest of the day was hers to do as she pleased. Brewing herself a big cup of coffee, she skipped breakfast and eagerly approached the job at hand. Simultaneously opening several tabs on her computer to check for movies or plays to watch after it was done. It took her just 45 minutes to complete the assignment. She emailed it and started shutting all tabs on her computer. Perhaps a movie at Panjim Inox and then dinner out with her daughter? Hell, why only dinner, why not lunch too? Just then a new email marked ‘Urgent’ popped into her inbox, a laundry list of changes from her client. Ah well, another five minutes more. Nothing could dampen her mood now… The second set of changes arrived in her inbox. She was still a picture of calm. The third time around, the assignment changed completely. A whole new brief. And yes, the client was extremely sorry, but he was willing to pay her in full for both jobs. All good, she convinced herself, she was making more money. It was past lunchtime now, and she hadn’t bothered cooking—she was supposed to eat out, goddammit! Ok, no problem. She asked her daughter to order pizza (never failed!) and braced herself for the new assignment undergoing at least a couple of changes prior to approval. Before she knew it, it was 7.30 pm, the day was gone...

A day like this might have been the norm mid-week, but it was a Saturday. Saturdays were meant exclusively for her daughter. Rita, her 12-year-old, was already judging her.

‘You promised we would see the movie today. We’ve already missed three shows. There’s just one last show at 10 pm.’

‘Oh great! I have time till 9 to finish this thing. It will just take us 20 minutes from Parra to Panjim…’

‘Mamma! I thought you were done! I’m dressed up and ready since 10 am…’

‘Sweety, just 5 minutes more. I promise.’

‘You’ve been saying that since 9 am today!’

They somehow made it in time for the day’s last show, never having missed a Marvel superhero movie. And they were the only ones who knew to wait until after the credits, to catch the sneak-peek scene of the next Marvel movie.

Anita and Rita were in a good mood as they stepped outside the cinema hall at half past midnight. The crowds had already dispersed from the Inox courtyard. Suddenly, ear-splitting thunder shattered the quiet night, the sky crackled with lightning streaks. Discarded plastic bags became airborne as gusts of winds swept the vast open area of the parking lot. It started to pour with heavy droplets. The last car revved to life and scampered out of the complex. ‘Really? In December?’ Anita muttered. as she started her bike, signalling Rita to sit behind. In just a few seconds they were completely drenched. Winter showers were unusual for Goa, not to mention disastrous. For both mango and cashew― the two main state exports. But that was the least of their worries. A cloudburst like this could definitely blow up electric transformers, leaving streets unlit on their ride home. The Panjim to Porvorim stretch would be a breeze; the Sangolda village stretch however would be excruciating to navigate in darkness and pouring rain. Anita switched off the ignition and decided to wait. They walked back to the cinema lobby, but found it locked with no security guard in sight. They were the only ones around.

The Panjim Inox theatre is located inside the Old Goa Medical College and Hospital complex one of Asia’s oldest medical colleges, built by the Portuguese in Goa, now annually hosting the International Film Festival of Goa. Just a few metres separated this 1840’s heritage building from a steel and glass cinema hall built in 2002. The old building appeared charming by day, but by night its tall, floor to ceiling pillars, were menacing. Anita shuddered recollecting that the morgue used to be on the ground floor, closest to where they stood. The glass exterior of Inox reflected its older neighbour, the two buildings became one. Holding Rita’s hand tightly, she hurried back to the parking lot. At this point, being in motion seemed like the most sensible option. The security guard had switched off the parking lot lights, probably assuming their lone bike was left behind, the bike owner having hitched a ride in some car. Anita wasted no more time, with Rita holding tight, she rode out of the complex and was on the main street in seconds. She felt lighter and gradually her breathing returned to normal. Lights twinkling on Panjim harbour and the promenade were a welcome sight. The downpour hadn’t subsided or weakened, but at least they were on the wide avenues of Panjim city, several cars and bikes keeping them company. As they passed over the Mandovi bridges to enter Porvorim, she saw a huge posse of policeman with shining torches, stopping the sparse traffic. Anita slowed down, expecting to be asked for her licence.

‘Ma’am, you cannot go further, there’s a landslide. Take a detour through Betim.’

‘But that is too long! May I see how bad it is? I’m sure a small bike can pass... cars and busses might face a problem,’ she pleaded.

‘Ma’am, two cars are trapped under rubble. Rescue work is in progress, you cannot pass. Please co-operate.’

Anita looked around wondering what to do next, the few cars and bikes ahead of her were already making a U-turn on their way to the Mandovi bridges and Panjim city. She had no friends or family in Panjim. An aunt lived in Porvorim, but a torn hill stood in between. She rarely took the Betim road, it passed through the thickly forested Betim hill. She had used it just once in her 15 years of biking, and it had been during daytime... The heavy downpour made it a dreadful prospect. What if she missed a turn, took a wrong road at a fork? Who would she ask for directions at 1.30 am? Anita rode hesitantly towards the Betim detour, Rita holding her tighter than usual. What if they met with an accident? Who would know? Anita’s husband worked in Bombay, and he had already made his once weekly call to check on them this morning. She had kept it brief because of the assignment. She regretted it now... Anita put her headlight on high beam and said a small prayer. ‘Please get us home safely,’ she whispered, as they rode into the thickly wooded hill. The temperature dropped perceptibly, the rain-drops hushed as they fell on large leaves. The narrow road snaking upwards was being carved into the hill by her headlight as she rode. Honking at every turn, she hoped to alert small creatures straying in her path, having already passed two indiscernible road-kills, and one flattened python. Then a scary thought made her stop honking. What if they got waylaid by some robbers, or rapists? Ha, this was Goa, ghosts were more likely patrolling hills at this hour... Wait, was that a howl? Were there wolves around? Anita panicked as her high beam caught a pair of shining eyes just a few feet ahead. She swerved to avoid the creature, her bike skid and she lost control…

Anita’s head throbbed; stale, coagulated blood filled her mouth. She spat it out and opened her eyes. She was spread-eagled on an operating table, bright lights above blinding her vision. ‘Where am I? Where’s my child? She was with me on the bike!’ Anita cried out, but nobody was around to listen. Sliding off the table she stumbled towards the door and looked outside. An empty ward stretched ahead, not a single bed occupied. How strange that she was the only one around. Weren’t hospitals supposed to bustle with activity at any given time? Her jaw hurt as she called out, ‘Doctor...nurse?’ The only response she received was the sound of her own feet padding softly in the corridor. Anita had no idea which hospital she was in, the signboards were all in English, but they made no sense. 'Operação Teatro' said the board outside her room. Maybe it was a spelling mistake—it looked suspiciously like Operation Theatre. Another board she passed read 'Cirurgia'. She touched her head and was relieved to note it was in one piece―no cracks, no bandages. And yet she couldn’t comprehend the signboards... She turned a corner and was confronted by a staircase going down. As she held the railing for support, she was oddly delighted at the feel of well-polished wood under her palm. Taking slow and deliberate steps on the old-fashioned staircase, she arrived at the ground floor of the deserted hospital. Now to find the reception and enquire about her daughter... She staggered through an identical empty ward. The silence was beginning to gnaw at her. At the far end, she saw an open room. Strains of a song drifted from within. Finally! Some sign of life in this godforsaken place... She hurried towards the room, eager to find a doctor, a nurse, or a ward boy even, not seeing the signboard above the door—'Necrotério.'

The room was like an oversized bathroom, white tiles covered walls and lots of large, amber coloured bottles stood on open shelves. The bottles surely contained vile smelling liquids, Anita was thankful the accident had dulled her senses. As she hobbled through the room looking for the music source, she realised it was coming from outside, through a slightly open window. Disappointed yet again, she walked towards it, whimpering softly, unable to bear the ordeal anymore. She pushed open the window and looked outside; a massive signboard cast blue light on her face and sent a shiver up her spine... It said 'Inox.'

‘Mamma! Mamma! Open your eyes, Mamma!’

Anita was startled, somebody was shaking her violently. She opened her eyes and saw it was Rita, hunched over her and crying.

‘What happened?’

‘A stupid dog darted across and you lost control of the bike,’ Rita replied.

‘Oh I’m so sorry. Are you Ok? Are you hurt? Let me see...’

‘I’m fine, mamma... but I thought you were dead,’ Rita burst out crying.

‘It’s ok baby, I’m here now. Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine,’ Anita hugged her daughter, tight. It had stopped raining. What a harrowing time they’d had... both, stood up and strained to lift the fallen bike. ‘By the way, how long had I passed out?’ Anita asked Rita.

‘I don’t know, seemed like forever.’

‘My watch is smashed, what’s the time?’

‘1.35 am.’

‘Only? Just 5 minutes!’ Anita chuckled.

‘Mamma! 5 minutes feel like forever when you are all alone.’

‘Yes, you’re right. I’m so sorry... from now on I’ll always be by your side. You will never be alone. And Daddy will come home tomorrow.’

‘Really? He didn’t say this morning...’

“He’ll have to come, now that…” Anita words were swallowed by the breeze as she rode one last time, to drop her daughter home.

Bina Nayak is an Art Director who designs, illustrates and writes copy. She is a dinosaur from the advertising industry in Bombay, from a time of copywriters and Art directors. She currently lives in Goa with her husband Jagdish and her dog Sikandar (Big dog and small dog). Click here to visit Nayak’s website here.

The banner image is by Atharva Tulsi and is downloaded from unsplash.com