Extract from ‘1966 Calcutta’
“The lift shimmies to a halt, leaving a narrow dark slit where it doesn’t quite touch the landing. The liftman calls goodnight and clangs the heavy gate shut. The old machine wheezes and grunts and descends slowly. It’s just two paces to the cream double doors of the apartment. The black mouth of the old concrete stairwell mocks. The right half of the door gives in to the turn of the key and a shiver snakes down my damp back. The stairwell is a dark cavern that frightens me. On the ground floor, the liftman’s wooden sandals clack across worn marble, connected to his hardened soles by a single knob that his toes clutch.
It amazes us that the liftman’s toes can cling to the single stud between the big toe and second toe, propelling him forward on wooden platforms. His pallet and blanket await him in the wide bare hallway open to the night.
The hot Calcutta night hums.”