I have decided to go back home. The absence of power in the city is not a good thing. I can’t think straight. I need time to sit and take my next decisions. Till now it has been all about exploring the city to find her or any other survivors, followed by a journey out of the city to find out if this is a larger phenomenon. It all changes now.

There is backup power in my home. It should last maybe twelve hours or more, depending on the usage. I don't know when it would have kicked in. The power supply could have been disrupted in my area much earlier. I will need to get back and charge all my stuff.

I take the right turn out of the station, get into the roundabout, and take the first exit. It will take me through Model Junction followed by the Bakery junction flyover, all the way to Palayam. This is the road I had decided to take while going back home. I can use the vantage view from the flyover to look for any signs in and around the vicinity.

There are a couple of cars and bikes lying crashed here and there. I am not paying them much attention. It is the same story again and again. My focus has shifted to the power situation.

The blackout must have affected the city completely. It wouldn’t have left any street untouched. Maybe the power for the railway station or the overhead lines comes from another power grid. Maybe that has just failed. But I saw the power in the prepaid auto cabin was out. Surely it would be getting its power from the local grid. I don't know much about our power grid system. I wish I knew. I wish I had learned this somewhere so that the knowledge can be put to better use. I am starting to get the feeling that I have never been ready for this kind of situation. Are you? I haven't been taught to survive in such a scenario. Life has become so automatic that I have not learned much of the basics needed to survive. This is not good.

Without power, the city would plunge into total darkness after sunset. Not complete though. All the backup batteries would have fired up by now. Solar-powered homes and offices will still have power. There won't be any street lights turning on in the evening, and no lighting in public places and buildings, roads, and streets. Thinking about that gives me the creeps.

I pass the two theatres run by the film development board of the state on my left. This theatre becomes one of the main venues for the international film festival that takes place in the city towards the end of the year. I haven't taken part in it although I was here and the event happened right in front of me. The theatre is currently undergoing renovation. I liked this theatre. It was big and comfortable. I haven't seen a movie here since passing out. It looks all beat up now. I wonder if it wasn’t as such.

I pick up speed on the road. As I take a turn I am greeted by a white ambassador lying squarely on the road, blocking it. It lies in front of an old hotel. I take the sidewalk of the hotel (which was made with a gradual incline) and cut across the Amby.

This stretch of road is known for the many private bus operators that operate daily buses to and from the city. You will find all the long-distance interstate private buses right here. They have built their offices adjacent to the sidewalk and their parking lot behind it. Now they are empty. The buses arrive in the city after six in the morning. I have taken their service for traveling to Bangalore and Chennai. They also provide service to places that are not serviced by the trains, like the hill stations. The offices here have their names and services displayed in flashy colors on big TV screens or LED tickers. This is how they advertise locally. They are blank currently owing to the lack of power.

I slow down at Model junction to have a quick glimpse of the surroundings. A car has crashed into the pavement on the opposite side of the road. It is nothing different from what I have seen throughout the day. I think there is no point in paying attention to these crashes. There would be no trace of anyone inside or any other sign. I thought I would find something of importance that would point me in the direction of unraveling the disappearance. Initially, I was looking for survivors from the crash. Now I know there aren’t any because no one underwent the crash. They all disappeared before the crash and it is precisely their disappearance that led to it.

I continue straight on the road. A bike lies fallen up ahead. I don't slow down. There is another car that has crashed onto the wall of a hotel. It is a bad crash. The front is totally gone. The front right wheel has come off. It lies on the pavement, away from the car. I observe them and move on.

I cross the Bakery junction only to slow down at the sight in front of me. A tempo has crashed horrendously into the compound wall of a house on my side of the road. It has toppled and lies on its left side. The premises is filled with shattered glass. The walls have given way for the front of the tempo to be wedged in it. I pull my brakes and stop. I walk around to the front of the tempo. There is no windshield, only pieces of it in the corners. The dashboard has been crushed, and the plastic is all broken. The fog lamps are lying around on the pavement. I look beyond the tempo. The overpass starts just behind it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The tempo must have been coming down the flyover for such an accident to occur. Gravity increased its momentum. It somehow avoided the beginning of the divider. Otherwise, it would have jumped over it and toppled much farther and away from here. I look around for any other crashes. There aren’t any, which is good. I take a peep inside the tempo, just in case anyone was inside. The chances of anyone surviving this would be slim. If there were passengers, they must have been sleeping. Apart from the bags, I see no one. I walk back to my scooter to resume my journey.

Even though I have decided to be indifferent to the crashed vehicles I see on the road, I can’t help it at times. Like the tempo now. I had to go and check it out. If there is even the remotest possibility of finding someone badly injured and needing attention, I will try whatever it needs to save him. If I can’t then at least I will have known there is someone other than me who has not been affected by the disappearance. That would be a big revelation. It will surely spike up my hopes to find a survivor. As the day passes, my hopes are dying.

I don't think the power is returning. It has happened because of this disappearance. People would have disappeared from power stations and substations, thereby leaving the equipment and machines unattended. This would have resulted in the blackout, owing to a lack of supervision in controlling the usage and distribution of electricity. Something similar of this sort might have happened to the communications network also.

The networks in my mobile must be gone now. The walkie-talkie is the surviving means of communication. I need to ensure it remains fully charged and find a source of power to charge it from time to time.

We have an inverter in our home. It powers the lights and fans and a couple of power sockets. We have never faced a situation in which the battery has run out. So I really don't know how much it will give me. I need to be conservative and judicious with my power usage. I am conservative in this regard. So is she. She doesn’t like to leave a room without switching off the lights and fans. Because of this, we get a modest electricity bill.

I resume my journey. I drive onto the flyover. The sky is filled with tufts of white clouds obstructing the blue sky. The sun shines through them, casting shadows and being playful.

I reach the vantage point. They have built the side walls high. I can’t see sitting on my scooter. I get out. I walk to the wall and look over. I see the petrol pump in the junction below. I am familiar with it. Before the flyover came, all the state buses going to Thambanoor took the road below, leading to the Bakery junction and so on. This petrol pump always caught my eye. Maybe it was its location.

I look below and follow the couple of roads branching out from the junction. A bike and car lay crashed on the roads. There isn’t anything else. The road adjacent to the petrol pump leads all the way to the secretariat. It joins at the small junction adjacent to the cantonment police station.

There is no movement down below. I go through all the roads, houses, buildings, and open areas that I can see from here. It is not a plain area that is spread out. The roads that branch off all climb onto a nearby hillock. Trivandrum is a city made of these small hillocks. It has been developed and populated to such an extent, people residing in them forget what it was once.

My attention draws to the dogs that have entered the junction from the main road below. I follow them for a while. They go round and round each other, fighting playfully amongst themselves, as they slowly make their way into the street. I stretch myself from the ground so that I can have a look right below the bridge. My stomach rests on the base of the side wall. It has been made wide and strong. I am glad nothing untoward has happened on the bridge. That was the first thing I was looking out for when I reached here. There are no accidents along the whole stretch of the bridge. All the side walls are intact. Nothing has flown off the road. I hate such scenarios.

A wind blows and ruffles the branches of the large tree adjacent to the petrol pump. It flows past me, sending a slight shiver down my spine. It had a chillness to it. But the air is still hot. Did my mind make it up?

I cross the road to the other side. I can see the iconic name of a five-star hotel in the distance. It has been only a few months since it started. They have fine chefs in their restaurants. I wanted to take Anna to their hotel in Kovalam for a dinner. But it never materialized. We always kept it away for the next time I came home. I guess I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just taken her along on a whim. There is no use saying this now.

Just ahead of me down below is the white building of the Reserve bank of India Trivandrum branch. They are the apex authority of banking in the country. They dictate the terms and conditions of banking for all the other institutions. People here are more concerned with the economic decisions and their effects on the community rather than plain old banking. A job here is deemed to be coveted. I like it because they provide a living quarter facility for their employees. And the fact that they are located at some good part of the city. I have observed that their quarters and office are situated close to each other, often in the same compound. I don't know if it is the norm throughout the country. I like the concept of having your workplace close to where you live. You save on the time spent commuting.

Right beside the bank, a road winds up. It leads to Vazhuthacaud. It is a busy road at this time of the day. Currently, it is empty. I don't see any kids waiting for the local buses to take them home from the bus stop near the turn. I don't see people coming out of the bank after a day's work. I don't see anyone anywhere. I am recollecting things from my past and trying to fit them into the current scenario. It doesn’t help me a bit. In fact, it is affecting me more. Sometimes the feeling becomes strong and the imagery real in my head. It helps me to beat the loneliness for a few seconds after which it silently returns and takes control.

I find the edge of the side wall precariously dangerous. A fall would be pretty fatal. I stare at the wall only to be tranced by it.