The sun seemed particularly harsh for a December morning. Still, Rishav squinted and looked around trying to make sense of where he woke up, dangerously hungry and parched. It wasn't his bedroom or any room for that matter. He was out in the open, on cold ground, beside a huge dumpster and a wall with barbed wires crowning it. Everything hurt.

Rishav was a big boy, almost twenty nine. And this wasn't his first hangover. But it was certainly the most confusing one, given that he had absolutely no recollection of how he ended up there.

Hell, he didn't even know where he was. This wall had no gates, not as far as he could see, and there was not a soul in the vicinity. He was still in his work clothes, a full sleeved light blue shirt and black trousers. Rishav rummaged through his pockets. No cellphone, no wallet, and no shoes, for some reason. There was a familiar scent in the air, besides the rotting garbage. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Home. Rishav needed to get back home.

Weak, starving and dry mouthed, he started walking. The soles of his feet hurt with every step he took but he kept going. There was bound to be something in this place. For starters, he badly needed food, water, a phone and a pair of shoes. Second, any sign of human civilization and a lead on where he was would be nice.

The last person he remembered was Darshan, his best friend. They had stopped at a liquor store after Darshan picked him up from work, bought two bottles of whiskey and gone to Rishav's apartment. Rishav lived alone, making it the perfect spot for them to drink to their heart's content till they passed out on Saturday nights. In a few months, he'd be hitched to his long time girlfriend, Sunanda, and the apartment would no longer be fit for these little parties. She didn't like Darshan very much, hated the drinking that Darshan insisted everytime Rishav was with him. Darshan knew that. But they both remained civil for Rishav's sake. And he loved them both.

As soon as he'd find a phone, Rishav would call Darshan and Sunanda. He knew their numbers by heart. There were so many questions... And he felt like there was this massive pit of nothingness inside him. It was a bad feeling he couldn't shake...

No memory, a bad feeling, hunger, thirst and a splitting headache. That's poor company, in anybody's opinion. Where does one go from there?

Rishav found himself on what he assumed was one of the National Highways. He was certainly far away from Kolkata. The question was, how far? The sun was overhead. It must have been noon, or somewhere around noon.

Heart pounding, he stopped and sat down beside the road, on the dirt. His clothes were already unkempt. So, sitting there hardly mattered. It was odd, though. He remembered working out, every single morning, for almost an hour. His heart never behaved this way. And for it to be tired so soon, within minutes? He barely walked. It was odd. But then again, it could have been the hunger, the thirst, the sun. He reeked. Perhaps, it was the alcohol. Rishav hugged his legs and put his forehead on his knees. Seriously parched, he needed water.

A rumbling noise put his eyes back on the highway. It was a truck. Within a split second, Rishav was on the middle of the road, flailing his hands like a madman, signalling the truck to stop. It screeched into a halt before him; and the scrawny helper on the passenger seat swung open the door to hop out and size up the interruption.

"Are you out of your mind? Get off the road, you swine!"

"Please,...