Lost, found, lost again: Woman found at ITO goes missing from LNJP

NEW DELHI: She sat on a large stone, stiff resistance growling from every taut cell. Her hands cupped her knees, elbows held straight at a right angle, legs apart, almost cathartic. In black leggings and a green sweatshirt, she looked a cat ready to spring.
A couple of policemen hovered, street-food vendors offered advice, a dozen or so passers-by formed a ring around her at a safe distance.She sat like a wounded animal when I came across this scene after 10pm near ITO's Udupi last Thursday.
The police had spotted her moving around on DDU Marg in a listless state and tried talking to her. She sprinted away. They gave chase. She, the policeman said, powerfully ran across the ITO crossing, still busy at 10pm, leaving her bag and kicking off her sandals in her bid to run away.
They finally managed to halt her with some restrained struggle at the point near Udupi.
They now waited, talking on their walkie-talkies. She has already been categorized 'lawaris'. What now, I ask. "You ask her madam, kuch bolti hai?"
In the next few minutes all that she says repeatedly is "Shiv mandir jana hai", and "Woh bhi ganda kar dia tumlogo ne". No name, no address. Colleagues come over.
"Bangali ho, jao jao jao. Bangali na?" she says, hearing us speak.
Isn't there a woman constable around? No. Women's cell? We are 200 metres, if that, from police HQ. A leading newspaper's chief crime reporter stops by and moves on. This is no story.
A policeman on a mobike brings her charcoal grey knapsack and cheap brown sandals and flings it down. Police says nothing in the bag. They say she has no mobile either.
Another PCR van is called, and she is bodily lifted into the van. No resistance, just very stiff and her legs give way so she has to be hauled into the back of the van. Inside, she stretches out on the narrow seat. Bare feet, no nail paint but a white churidar-type with sequins peep out of her leggings. Medium length hair carried loose.
The straight hair frames her face which she has tossed around like in a voodoo dance while on the roadside. You can barely see her nose, her long slanted eyes don't focus. Hill features but where? What language? Himachal? Uttarakhand? Northeast? Nepal? Bengal? She watches her body convulse, a half-embarrassed smile on her lips.
A wave moves through her body. First her chest then pelvic area then legs. Finally she pushes with all her might against the door. The young police rookie sitting across her is reduced to ordinary pulp.
At LNJP Hospital, she apparently tells the doctor in the main emergency her name is Sunita, d/o Ram Singh. We leave the girl in their care. Her name could be anything. Her identity is MLC No 5642 (medico-legal case 5642).
A little after 12 of the night between Thursday and Friday, MLC 5642 was transferred to the gynaecology emergency. Why? Were there signs of attack? No, said the nurse. No noting. Just, "Brought in drowsy condition. Referred to gynaec emergency." She was anything but drowsy.
Gynaec emergency has MLC 5642 written in red, all MLC cases in red, rest in blue. The nurse scans the record to say: "She wasn't a prostitute. See, all these were prostitutes brought in by police last night." Then, "We referred her back to main casualty". The noting, "To be stabilized before examination".
But main casualty has no idea. "She certainly didn't come back here." Did she simply disappear?
The registration desk helps. MLC 5642 was sent to Ward No. 32 in the new medical block.
The nurses in Ward No 32. remember her well from Friday morning. Sunita, if that's her name, fought with all patients, was disoriented, "misbehaved with doctors", report the nurses, eager to share their stories of the strange woman who came in on Friday 13. "We tried to speak to her. She wouldn't listen."
What about seeking help of a psychiatrist if the emergencies couldn't handle her? "None in LNJP, we would have got a referral from GB Pant," says a nurse. Really? Maybe, she adds hesitantly. And rushes to add, "Even before examination, she went away." What do they mean "went away"?
"She had walked in smartly with the orderly early Friday morning. She left around 3pm. Our security guard went after her. She reached the main emergency and our ward guard came back." She was "handed over" to main casualty guards. This is Friday afternoon.
But the gate guards say she's not totally gone away. Friday evening she grabbed a parked car near Gate No. 3 and claimed it was hers. "Then she hugged a tree for 20 minutes, and played with pups," says a guard. Helpfully he adds: "There are others like her."
The register in the police's kiosk inside LNJP Hospital has 'Abscond, 10.20pm' scrawled next to the entry "Sunita, 23 yrs, d/o Ram Singh MLC 5642". Case closed.
I only wonder who is absconding. That mentally disturbed lost young woman or the rest of us? That is maybe where the story really begins.