What Calcutta D’Costa Finally Saw.

Calcutta D’Costa crept out from under the worn looking aluminium table still feeling angry at his parents. The person on top of the table didn’t budge. The room was lit by a dim yellow bulb. Calcutta however, squinted at the light. It seemed all too bright for him. He looked around the room. The wall looked sticky. “Possibly stained with soot, grime, and years of evident neglect” thought Calcutta, or Calu as his friends called him.

There were others in the room with him. People he had never seen before. A young boy, in a green and maroon striped tee, sitting hunched on the table drew his attention. The boy looked up at him. Their eyes met. The boy was blind.

Memories rushed through his mind. Memories of his twenty one years of darkness.

“Looks like this one slit his wrists himself sir. Probably last evening sir. No sign of struggle at all” said pathologist Sukanto.

“Write it down on the sticker. As if I am going to remember all that by heart huh! Strange times Sukanto, strange times. Blind people manage to cut themselves up to commit suicide these days. Anglo on top of that. How many of them are left anyway?” grumbled Sub Inspector Panchanan. 
 “Got a spare bidi on you?”

“Of course Sir. Here you go.”
 Sub Inspector Panchanan, got up, lit the bidi and walked out of the mortuary.

Walking up to the table, beside the pathologist and peering over his shoulder, Calcutta D’costa looked at himself for the first time.