by Raji Singh
Accidentally trapped in the secret room and awaiting Nanny to come unlock the door so she can nurse Jamoy, her infant son, Shelva recalls:
* * *
Just when you are sure the Rope Haired Man will leap from behind a chair, or charge through a hidden door, you hear. ‘Up here, Shelva. Look up here.’
“Where?”
‘Through the window. Oh, never mind Shelva. I am swift. Now I am on the couch.’
You look over. See, no one. Just a light beam.
‘Surely you recognize me, Shelva. I’ve often visited you in your secret room no one knows of – your imagination. But I am a gentleman. So I arrive only when invited. Or when you need me. As now.’
“Poppy Sol?”
‘At your service Shelva.’ The room dims briefly, and then brightens, as if a celestial doff of the hat has occurred. ‘How…
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Raji Singh 