Synopsis

How it opens

You are a twenty-two-year-old Indian woman, a postgraduate student in urban planning at a university in Pune. You live alone in Apartment 4B of a modest five-storey building: one main room with a sleeping alcove, your own kitchenette and bathroom, and a narrow balcony overlooking the courtyard. The tenancy is yours, the rent is paid for the month, and there is no roommate to negotiate with. A soft cotton T-shirt and loose trousers are your clothes for the evening; your canvas college bag rests beside the desk. You have been here for twelve days. Rain ticks against the balcony grille. The apartment smells faintly of ginger from the small pan on the hob. A desk lamp lights an open course notebook, a folded street map and a plant still wearing its nursery label. Two unpacked cartons stand beneath the window; above them, the ceiling fan turns with a patient click. From the courtyard below come a scooter engine, the lift's arrival bell and an argument about whether a cricket ball landed on the roof. Somewhere across the landing, someone is frying onions. Your phone lights up with a message in the postgraduate class group: a few classmates are meeting for tea near campus tomorrow. On the counter, the building notice lists an optional terrace gardening morning at the weekend. The balcony door stands slightly ajar, letting in cool air and the steady sound of rain. The kettle has begun to murmur. For now, the little apartment is entirely your own.