...Without a Twist - Part I

Unless one counts the school English class exercises and the one competition I’d taken part it in (in which I won 3rd prize by the way), this is my maiden effort at story writing. That’s why its been while since I posted anything. As it always happens with me, the short story started getting longer, and so I’ve decided to post it in two parts…
So here goes..

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“As Vikram stepped into the lift, he tried to look forward to the day, but like every other day, he didn’t succeed. He didn’t enjoy his job.
And why would he, he often said to his wife when she started pointing out to him that other people were worse off…

When he was a kid, he had always wanted to be a policeman, he had loved playing ‘Chor Police’, chasing the bad guys (invariably his best friend and the neighbour’s kid – Satyam), and most of the times he had managed to overcome evil with good. During those days, the movies also always made the police the good men... sometimes even the main protagonist was a policeman. What more did a kid of 8-9 need? His own hero acting out his dream job. He always dreamed of the day he would be awarded a medal for his bravery.

However in the course of growing up, his dreams somewhat subsided; his inertia of action, plus the fact that the movies had started showing the policemen mostly as corrupt officials who merely acted according to the wishes of the goons (after of course being heavily bribed by them), made him somewhat less eager to be a part of the same organization.

The movies have always had a big impact on his mind. As a kid, for a month or so, he adopted a stray dog, fed him, played with him, after seeing the movie ‘Tere Meherbaniyaan’ which had a canine playing a great role. After a month, the fever wore off, and soon the dog was left to his own devices (even though the dog still wondered around the lanes near his home). During his late teens, he had made an attempt to convince his supposed sweetheart (Satyam’s sister – Maya who was 2 years younger to him) to elope with him after declaring his undying love for her in the most theatrical way possible (as shown in the English movies – ones he had seen mostly for the images as the accent was too tough for his Hindi medium 10th standard English to follow). Fortunately, she, a level headed girl with no such great love for drama, brought him back right to reality, saying she liked him, but marriage and that too elopement was a rather impractical idea. Patiently, she said that there was no need to elope as she could foresee no problem, why either of their parents would object, considering they were such good neighbours and occasional lunch/dinner invitees. He stared at her, all the drama sucked out of his heart, while she explained how they were going to go about the whole issue of marriage. Bit by bit, she mapped out how he’d need to get a job, then, ask her parents while she would stall her parents’ groom-searching by some pretext.

At that time, they were 19 and 18 respectively, and Maya had mapped the next 5 years for the both of them, Disappointed by the rather flat course of events, totally contrary to the outcome he had expected (both of them riding far away on a bike (how he’d get that was something he had not thought about), while their parents coming after them with promises to let them be together, all contrite in shame), he agreed to her plan.
His future had been planned out while he was still struggling in the 10th standard of a local school for the 3rd time. For three years now, Vikram had searched in vain at the results sheet of the matriculation exam, hoping to see his roll number in the list of passes. Each time, he was disappointed. Watching movies every Friday had taken its toll. On Fridays, the teachers never saw him, on Wednesdays too he was hardly to be seen (that was the day of the week when Maya came from school early), the rest of the days, he was physically present in class, but mentally someplace else.
Trapped in a class with boys 3 juniors to him, it was but natural for him not to prefer going there. He lived in an alternative reality, where his parents didn’t nag him to study, where Maya didn’t keep planning unromantic undramatic courses of life, where he wasn’t trying to comprehend the complexities of physics in a room full of screaming 15 year olds who thought about nothing but cricket and exams; this was his world. Here, he was the director, the hero, the theme of the film, his parents were grateful that they were HIS parents, Maya felt lucky just being in his presence and listening to his words of wisdom, the boys in his class worshipped him because of his status as an adult - he was happy in this world.

When he failed to pass the matriculation exam for the 4th consecutive year, his parents were not really surprised. They finally gave up and allowed him to quit school. What he would do was a matter of contention. His dreams had changed dramatically (no pun intended) – he wanted to be an actor. Maya tried to talk him out of it, his father tried to force him out of it, his mom tried to cajole him out of it but he would not budge. He had worked it all out. He had a friend who had friend who had a cousin who was acting in some television show in Mumbai. He would go to Mumbai, stay with that unknown person and try his luck too.

What followed was a sequence of events that changed his perception of life forever – made him grow up. Leaving the painful parts, lets just say that post that experience, Vikram never takes any food from any train passengers, no matter how friendly and harmless they seem, neither does he keep much cash while travelling, and when someone says that ‘My friend’s friend’s cousin’s son will help you’, he doesn’t believe him. Also, he never stays in stranger’s rooms without keeping his luggage locked, never trusts people who seem to be going out of their way to do him a favour. The falsity of people, the tinsel unsure of the movies struck him like a jolt.

Sufficient to say, he came back from Mumbai after 2 years, disillusioned, disappointed and dejected. Having lived in a room not much bigger than the storeroom of the rented house here, trying to start a career in acting, a talent which he slowly started realizing didn’t exist in him, staying with a good for nothing guy who spent all his time in bars or the production houses, doing spot jobs here and there, feeling ashamed of going back, he had longed for the sanctuary of his parent’s comfort, his mom’s patting his back, consoling him, and his father speaking his few words of consolation, which contained no sign of the ‘I told u so’ taunt. It was only after Maya’s frequent persuasions that he found the courage in himself to return back… with even less than what he had gone with.

Nobody asked him what happened, and neither did he ever speak about it. Sometimes, in moments of painful memory, he would recall flashes of those terrible days, alone, uncared and be thankful that he’d come back. He recovered quickly, and now, even though he no longer wanted to have anything to do with cinema, he retained his original custom of visiting the theatres every Friday and that’s where the passion ended. His father got him a job at a nearby restaurant, as a waiter. He lasted there for about 3 months; somehow the concept of taking orders of food from people and recalling it at the kitchen, seemed like a job too lowly for him (according to him). Then followed a series of jobs which never lasted more than 3 months (maximum) - waiter; delivery person, salesman, were some of the jobs among the range...

He realized that he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, he didn’t know what he was good at, he didn’t know what he was interested in; he felt completely lost. After 2 years of changing jobs, his parents were frustrated and so was he. And then came the lightning jolt that broke his indecision and made him desperate to get hold of a job where he was interested enough to stay. That jolt was the search for prospective grooms for their daughter by Maya’s parents. Maya had managed to stall the search for almost a year now, and now after seeing his meandering career moves, she knew he needed a shock to make him consider his actions.

One evening, she told him that even though her parents had a slight suspicion that they were in love, but they could see nothing in him to make him even slightly acceptable in the role of their daughter’s husband. His past adventures as an unsuccessful actor, and his stream of temporary jobs had even worsened his impression. She confided, somewhat shyly, to her brother, Vikram’s friend Satyam, who had his suspicions from a long time. Satyam was not surprised and neither was he against it; however he had his concerns regarding his friend’s career plans. That night he had a heart to heart talk with him and they came out with a plan. Satyam would approach his supervisor at work and try to get his friend a job at the same security firm where he worked.

Satyam worked as a Guard at a local bigshot’s house; sent there as a part of a 2 member team who stayed at their post outside the huge gate of the mansion 24/7 on a shift basis. Inspite of the long nights, sleepy afternoons, he didn’t mind the job – his employer being a generous tipper and a humane person in general. When recommending the job to his friend, he focused on these factors and very tactfully omitted all the other inconveniences of the job. Likewise, while recommending Vikram for the job, he didn’t mention all his failed jobs and just mentioned the sojourn to Mumbai. After an interview, Vikram had to wait for a week until he was informed that he was now an employee of the security firm. He was allocated as a guard at a software firm quite far from his locality…and that’s where he was still working, for 3 years now.

That job gave him the right opportunity to ask Maya’s hand in marriage, and made his family much less in despair and much more proud of him, and yet, at as he walked to his desk, in the lobby, he wasn’t grateful. He knew it was a good job, paying ok, but somehow the job wasn’t as exciting as he’d expected it to be. The monotony had a deadening effect on his enthusiasm; he didn’t feel like a guard protecting the people there. He was just an attachment to the institution, a person required, but essentially of no use. He himself wondered, of what use he would be in an emergency situation (not that he could imagine an emergency in such a boring place as the office he was posted in); he had no training, no gun, no access to the few security cameras installed, and almost no authority. However, since emergencies were a distant improbability, he wasn’t really worried, just a tad bored.
Even though he had been in that office for a little over 3 years, and in the process, been promoted from the external gate, to the internal entry and then finally now he was one of the floor security guards (a job considered much more comfortable than the previous
two), he was yet to start liking the job.

Anyway, moving back to where we started…
That morning, as he took his place at his desk, he could still feel the tiredness in his eyes. Two day before, he had had the night shift, which he had been unable to sleep off the next day; that sleeplessness hadn’t left him. It was 6:55 am and he had 12 hours to go. Until 8:30, the office was almost empty, except for the one employee, Varun who frequently spent nights in office, doing what Vikram couldn’t really fathom, and who sometimes talked to him in moments of stress during his own night-outs. After 8:30, the company buses started arriving and the place started looking inhabited.
While the lifts stopped at his floor, people came in, sometimes greeting him, a smile of acknowledgement, a nod, while some didn’t bother to give any sign that they recognized him. After all he was a security guard at a corporate organization where they were the privileged employees. And that was case when he was in his uniform; navy blue shirt and pants with grey colour at the sleeves, a tie, a cap which he seldom wore, and black shoes. Not an uncommon colour combination, especially when 20 other guards wore the exact same uniform. Their acknowledging his existence when he wasn’t in uniform was an event that had less probability of happening than that of pigs flying.

It was just 9am - he had another 11 hours to go before he could go back to the comfort of his home. Everyday, he did the same thing, count the hours; it was some pass time to make the job more bearable. His job currently had some responsibilities (as compared to previous 2 posts where it was perfunctory and not much more than being at the specified place at the specified times. Now, he was responsible for checking whether al the people coming into the floor had the company tags with them, allotting temporary id cards to the people who had forgotten to bring their ids, registering the employee ids of the same, redirecting any external people (courier services, bank people etc.) to the administrative floor, checking the housekeeping staff as and when they left the floor, registering people who have visitors , ensuring that no unauthorized person enters the workplace, checking if all the desks etc. are locked, and handling any other unexpected situation (which was yet to happen in his 3 years of experience).

So it was really not a very exciting job, and neither was it too socially active; because all the guards worked in shifts in the different floors, they had very less interaction, and as they had to be at their desk for 95% of their shift, they hardly got around to interacting with each other. Lunches were solitary with the rare incidence of company if some guard one knew also got off at the same time. There were invisible lines throughout the workplace; the employees, the housekeeping, the security, the admin, the cafeteria staff - they all had their groups, it was rare to see them intermingling. Call it difference, call it discrimination, it had evolved into a commonality. Some employees were indifferent to such demarcations and had their share of conversations with the tea counter person, the guard, the household staff, while some didn’t do so much as acknowledge their presence or the service that these people did for them. Most of the staff were inured to it and didn’t mind; it was not expected that employees would socialize with them – after all they were highly educated people who spent hours doing really complex and important work on their machines (computers); something they (staff) could barely comprehend, while others suffered through the thanklessness of their jobs, persevering for the sake of themselves.

As it was with Vikram, he had a few acquaintances here and there within the company; whom he managed to come across once or twice a week. The morning was generally the busiest time of the day for him. However, that morning, as if to accentuate his tedium, except for a few employees not bringing their id cards, there was no activity on his floor.

The general attitudes of the employees sometimes really irritated him. They knew they had to bring and display their id cards before entering the facility, and yet each day, someone or the other would just enter (try) with no sign of their id card or the lanyard attached to it. Generally it was easy for him to make out if the employee had the card, either around his neck, or attached to their pants’ pocket with clip, or in their hands, because of the bright red colour of the lanyard. However, some people would have it on them, but inside their pocket, or inside their bags (especially girls/ladies), and then he would have to start the reluctant process of asking them, then they would make an expression as if it was a burden on them to have to display and as if he was causing unnecessary trouble, then they would fumble within their bags and finally bring it out. Sometimes, after minutes and minutes of exploring the bag, they would be unable to unearth it. All confused and mystified, they would look at him slightly apologetically after which he would have to issue a temporary card after registering their names etc. He knew most of the people on the floor (by face) and yet he had to follow the procedure of asking for their id cards as if he was not sure they actually worked here. It was standard procedure, he hadn’t made it, however the employees behaved as if he was solely responsible for their waste of time in searching for an id card. He was used to their expressions and had become an expert in making his face unexpressive and blank during the entire process.

It was almost 11 am and the second round of employees had also finally come in (these were the people who maybe owned vehicles and did not avail the company transport which commuted at ungodly early hours, or people who just didn’t like coming early) when Vikram was really glad to see another uniformed guard coming down the steps from the upper floor. This guy had the night shift and that day his replacement had come four hours late, and finally now he was leaving. Vikram knew that his colleague wouldn’t be too pleased but he was desperate; he was really sleepy and needed some tea to wake him up. All he wanted was a replacement for 5 minutes so that he could rush to the cafeteria two floors up and get a cup of tea. The other guy would have had an intuition because he pretended not to even look towards Vikram and tried proceeding further. However, Vikram got out of his seat and literally ran towards the stairs and called him back. Very reluctantly, and not very happily, the tired fellow agreed to sit in, but warned Vikram (who lost no time in leaving) to be back in time.

When Vikram greeted the guard at the cafeteria, he realized that the only thing at work he was thankful about was that he had managed to be a floor guard without having to go through the phase of being the cafeteria guard, which was inarguably the worst job of all. While the external and internal guards were atleast not alone (there would usually be two at a time), and they had the relief of being in the open, where the outside world did a lot to alleviate the tedium around, the cafeteria guard was the one who had nowhere to run.
Sitting at the entrance of the cafeteria, a solitary chair, (luckily a few days back, a table was also allocated) a register; that was the sum and substance of that job. All day the allocated guard had to sit, and check if all the people who entered the place had their ID cards or not, and if not, he had to note down the employee IDs. The worst part was, most of the people didn’t wear the card as it was meant to be worn, .i.e. around their neck; some had it in their hands, some in their pockets, and he had to literally visually scan every person and check if that person’s lanyard was visible, all in a fraction of a second (during the busy lunch hours). He didn’t have a moment of respite (except when he went into the floors to sit in for each of the floor guards while they had their lunch); even when he ate his solitary lunch, he had to sit near the entrance, facing it, so that he could continue his job while he had his meal. Besides that, all day he had no other responsibilities, not even nominal. Bored to the core, the post of the cafeteria guard was the most common position where the maximum number of guards quit the job. It was just not worth it. Sitting all day, staring at the entrance, and sometimes turning back and looking at the large screen of the flat-screen TV installed at the other end of the eatery. The current guard was looking like he’d resign the next day, although he kept busy all day, doing something or the other on his mobile.

Vikram got back to his desk a little later than he’d said, knowing fully that he’d be cursed at end when he returned, but he’d apologize and hopefully, the guy wouldn’t have minded that very much. However, he was in for a shock when he returned; his desk was empty, the guy, who was already irritated and tired and didn’t see why he had to fill up for a guy (Vikram of course) who needed 15 minutes to get tea, had left.

Our friend here was in an internal frenzy; he went and sat at his desk – checking all the registers and drawers to see if anything was amiss – why he thought something would be amiss he himself didn’t know. He had no idea for how long his post had been unattended and prayed that it was not more than a few minutes. Nevertheless, all through the checking, his mind was in a whirlwind of fear – what if the Admin people had come to his floor at that point (highly improbable but that dint strike him), what if some non-employee (housekeeping etc.) had entered the floor facility without getting registered and what if somehow the admin found out, what if some visitor had come inside the facility and the admin found out, what if some dangerous person had entered the facility and the admin found out (of course the admin would find out), what if some housekeeping staff or employees had noticed his non-availability at his desk and reported him to admin (housekeeping would never do it, and employees hardly noticed him but still.), what it , what if what if..

As these endless thoughts wavered around his head, while he sat there blankly, his replacement for lunch break , the cafeteria guard , with whom he had enjoyed that cursed cup of tea came in, and asked why he looked like he was about to die. He was a new guy (the new recruits always got either the cafeteria or the external gate) and was very cautious regarding his job. He never missed a moment out of duty, sitting on his chair at the cafeteria, looking rather bored and useless, staring at nothing in general, or noting some irreverent nonsense in the last page of the register which he would afterward tear off. On hearing his friend’s nervous possibilities, instead of allaying his fears, he brought forward worse things that could have happened in his absence. He, in fact suggested that the best thing would be to go and tell admin about this regrettable lapse in security.
Ironically, the cafeteria guard’s frenzied, rather unsuitable advice had the effect of calming our hero here, because instead of being worried of what could have happened in his absence, he was instead explaining to the other guy why all his suggestions and notions were unusable and completely illogical.

After making a thorough check of his desk, Vikram left the cafeteria guard in his place, and went inside the facility to make sure everything was normal (which by now, he was pretty sure it was); after all, if in these 3 years of work, nothing had ever happened to disturb the harmony (or monotony, whatever) of the place, why would anything out of the ordinary knock on the door in the few minutes he was away from his desk? And he was right. Relieved, he went for lunch, carrying with him the tiffin carrier that his wife had packed. He hated that even while having his lunch, he had to make sure that everyone entering the cafeteria was carrying their id card; every day he hoped that nobody had come without it because then he’d have to get up during his lunch and note down the numbers.

As he sat facing the entrance, opening his home packed lunch, elaborately opening all the containers and checking their contents; it was his favourite – Aloo Gobhi and daal, along with rice, when he heard some kind of commotion going on at the other end of the cafeteria. He assumed that it must be something do with the television and continued eating his food. Then he heard a single voice, vaguely familiar, dripping in anger and frustration, shrilly shouting some profanities – he immediately turned back. What met his eyes made him get up and stand - shell shocked; so much that he didn’t even move. The workaholic from his floor, Varun, with whom he had had many a conversation during the night shifts, was standing on the railing, holding his head, as if wanting to tear his hair out and screaming obscenities at the people who were trying to bring him down.

With an effort, Vikram moved from his seat and walked towards Varun. The people in the cafeteria were all in a nervous state, staring helplessly at the screaming guy, not knowing what to do. As he neared, Varun saw him and cried out ‘You know how I’m feeling! You know hard it is to work here, night shifts, black coffee, silent workplace… you know how it is!!’ As if in a single motion, all heads turned towards Vikram, and he stood there, aware that for the first time in 3 years, he had a chance to actually do something…..