Arthur Road jail was built in 1926 by the British. It occupies about two acres of land and houses close to 2000 inmates.
On arrival, the Police Commissioner and two guards received them in a small office. The smell of disinfectant hung in the air. No words were exchanged—Rupa shook the Police Commissioner’s hand while others nodded on eye contact—and the group moved to the jail’s noisy interiors. Finally, at the end of a dark corridor, they stopped. They entered one by one through a wooden door that was kept open for visitors.
It was a waiting room with a lone metal chair kept in the center. A ceiling fan whined above them, but for some reason, there was no air. A naked bulb hung in one corner, dangling on red and white cables braided together.
A frail looking old man with sunken cheeks sat in the chair. The body moved and joined his hands in a greeting.
‘This is the Don, madam.’ The Police Commissioner announced, his turnout so immaculate that even his shoelaces seemed ironed.
Rupa looked at Andy Karan as the guards moved back near the walls.
‘Where is my son?’
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*Excerpt from The Girl Who Loved a Pirate. Now also on Kindle. Order here: http://amzn.to/1Sy8hY9
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*Excerpt from The Girl Who Loved a Pirate. Now also on Kindle. Order here: http://amzn.to/1Sy8hY9
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