When the lights came back on, everyone in the room was exactly where they had been, except one person.

Rahul was leaning against the window grill, peering out. His hands grasped the bars, his knuckles white. His crutches were resting against the wall. One of them slowly slid down and clattered to the floor.

Even amid the shock, Rahul’s mother rushed to his side and retrieved it for him. The grey-haired lady joined him at the window, absentmindedly handing him the crutch. She squinted into the bright sunlight and asked Rahul, “Do you know him?”

“No,” said Rahul.

The rest of the room came alive now. Seema, his sister, was the next to speak.

“But how, then…” she said.

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