Oyo, A Tragedy?
"Where is the hotel?" asked the cab driver "I think we just crossed it. Can you turn back?" I asked. I took an Uber from Howrah station to The Diamond Plaza. I arrived at around half past five in the morning, paid the fare, checked my documents in the bag, and hopped out of the cab. The hotel didn't look promising from the outside, nor did I expect it to be one. I needed a place to crash and freshen up for an appointment at 11 a.m. I had been on the train for the past seven hours and did not sleep perfectly. As I closed in on the hotel doors, I realized they were locked. Locked iron gates in addition to glass doors guarding the reception area. I searched for any other means to enter, and I found one. There was another smaller iron gate - rusted and jammed. I assume the managers would not want guests to proceed through there. I had to get inside somehow; fortunately, I saw phone numbers, three precisely. I called each number a few times; a regular call, followed ...