Chapter 2 by Sumira Khan | #WriteWithChitra #StoriesConnectUs

Chapter 2

Her heart was pounding now. She walked back into the living room and looked around.

‘There has to be an explanation to this,’ she said out loud, hoping someone would hear her. ‘Hello,’ she called out. She half expected that Divya, her 8-year-old daughter, would come out of her bedroom sleepily and ask her what the matter was. Or that her mischievous 5-year-old, Aarav would announce that he was hungry and demand breakfast.

With unsteady steps, she went towards the children’s room again and glanced at the closet. The two school bags, packed the previous night, were ready for school.

Panic began to rise in Manorama’s throat. She sat down at the edge of the bed and tried to think. What happened last night? She had gone to bed late, after checking the seventh-grade mathematics papers. The children were already asleep and when she entered her bedroom, Vinod was watching a video on his phone and chuckling to himself.

‘Oh, I’ve forgotten to double lock the front door. Please could you do it? I’m so exhausted!’ she had said tiredly.

‘Sure, I will. You get some sleep,’ he had replied, giving her a peck on her forehead before heading out of the room.

Manorama didn’t remember anything after that. She must have dozed off soon after hitting the pillow.

A crow cawed loudly at the window and brought her back to the present.

She rushed to her bedroom and got dressed hurriedly, changing into a pair of jeans and a kurta. She grabbed her bag, threw in her keys and looked for her cell phone. She had left it on the dining table when she tried to call Ma. She sank down in a chair at the thought of Ma. She dialled her number again. ‘Please pick up. Please pick up.’

No answer.

Sheela! I’ll call Sheela! She thought, and called her best friend who lived 20 minutes away. But again, no one answered.

Manorama took a deep breathe, counted to 5 and exhaled. She needed to calm down. She carefully put her phone in her bag and walked to the front door, wore her sandals, slowly unchained and unlocked the door. She closed the door behind her and rang the bell of Bajpayee auntie’s flat. There was no answer. No rustle of saree fabric behind the door, no sound of uncle calling out for someone to answer the door, and no whirr of the food processor.

She took the lift and went to the ground floor. The parking lot was deserted; not even the security guards were there. Her headache had launched into a full-blown migraine by now. She unlocked her car and before she could get in, she heard a whimper behind her.

It was Veer, the society watchman’s dog. He was a beautiful beige Labrador retriever. He wagged his tail to show he was happy to see her, but then continued whimpering sadly. Manorama kneeled down to pat his head. ‘What happened, Veer? Do you know where everyone is?’ He looked at her sadly and sat down at her feet. ‘If only you could talk,’ she sighed. Manorama pulled out of the society parking lot and drove out the gate.

The absence of any human sound was deafening.

The streets were empty. She had never seen Mumbai like this. The throngs of people that filled every public space had disappeared. The shops were shuttered. Empty vehicles, that were parked there the previous night, lined the roads. Having grown up in a city filled with a cacophony of noises, this was frightening.

She hadn’t planned on where she’d go but found herself driving to Vinod’s office building. Vinod was a senior associate in a reputed architectural firm. The sprawling commercial campus that housed numerous businesses, including Gem Architects, was empty, its gates shut and locked. Manorama drove slowly passed it, the feeling of dread rising within her.

She drove to Divya’s and Aarav’s school. She already knew this would be a fruitless exercise, but she still went ahead. The gate was locked there too. Manorama stopped in front of the gate and peered inside. There was no sign of life. It was just as deserted as the rest of the place.

Should I go Sheela’s home? Or to Ma? Have they ALL really disappeared? Manorama felt giddy and nauseous at the thought. She realised that she hadn’t eaten anything since last night. She decided to head back home and figure out what to do next.

Back at her apartment, Manorama despondently took out her phone to check for any messages. There were none. She shot off several messages to Ma, Vinod, Sheela, her colleagues at school, her cousins, even her hairstylist. She placed the phone down on the table, and slowly got up to make some tea.

It felt strange to be doing something as mundane as making tea in such a situation. She didn’t really want to make tea. She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream loud enough for someone to hear her and come running to find her. The panic that had been steadily building up inside of her was ready to explode. Tears welled up in her eyes and she burst into loud, nervous sobs. Her fingers gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and she continued to cry for a long time.

By the time the wave of terror had subsided, the tea was over boiled. She switched off the flame and wiped her tears with a kitchen towel. She reached inside a drawer for a tea cup and then she heard it. Her phone ringing.

Manorama rushed to the table and looked at her phone screen. It was an unknown number.

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