I checked into a small hotel a few kilometers from Goa. It is late. I am tired. I tell the woman at the desk that I want a room. She tells me the room number and gives me the key. "But one more thing comrade; there is one room without number and always lock. Don't even peek in there." I take the key and go to the room to sleep. Night comes and I hear the trickling of water. It comes from the room across. I cannot sleep so I open the door. It is coming from a room with no number. I pound on the door. No response. I look in the keyhole. I see nothing except red. Water still trickling. I go down to the front desk to complain. "By the way who is in that room?" She looks at me and begins to tell a story. There was the woman in there. Murdered by her husband. Skin all white, except her eyes, which were red.
MOHAK ROKADE
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