The layman’s dead and other 1001 Arabian night stories
I first met Sonia under very unusual set of circumstances, it was a Monday evening and I just gotten home from the holidays, I was sitting on my computer checking mails. I was wearing that XL size sky blue shirt and that legendary cream colored shorts (the one that’s super loose and didn’t have a button but only a chain), so I was just checking mails idly when the door bell rang, I ignored the first one thinking that it was perhaps some guy seeking chanda for the temple that was to be supposedly built somewhere in the locality or some irritating classical music CD salesman from the times persisting that I should develop taste for such stuff, two doorbells and I got off from my seat, two doorbell means its somebody else, these salesman people don’t generally have the self-confidence to hit somebody’s doorbell multiple times.
“Who’s that”, I shouted on my way, nobody answered but doorbell rang again, nobody had hit the doorbell thrice during my stay here. Even the newspaper guy whom I haven’t paid for like eight months straight only hit twice to collect the balance, so who was it then, I wondered. I unlocked the bolt and my shorts slipped a little, either I had been constantly losing weight or the waist of the shorts was growing magically, you choose what more likely scenario was. So, I opened the door a little bit, just a crack where I could see the other person, to my surprise there was some fine young woman standing on the other side of the door, I haven’t seen her before, she was smiling a little. I opened a little bit more, and she said - “hi.”
My heart skipped a few beats, not because she was pretty and all, infact she didn’t even register in mind, it was more because i was so scared of a voice of a familiar stranger. As, I stood there holding the door I wondered who could that be, let me recall, I did I leave my wallet somewhere or lost my debit card in atm that she had come to return. But it was neither of that.
She had an envelope in her hand, I wondered at the thought if it was for me, and if it was then why she was not giving it to me already. So, I opened the door a little more and with one hand with other hand I was holding my shorts, pulling it up constantly, so now she took bit of initiative and pushed the door a little, a few notch I guess, and I let it open too. She smiled again and said that there was a letter for me, and at that precise moment the curiosity took me over, I took the envelope, it surely had my name on it and that’s it, no sender’s address, and with one hand I held it and with other I tried to open and that’s when it all happened. All hell broke loose, my shorts slipped down, albeit in a slow motion, as if I had deliberately taken them down, I guess whatever the code of conduct says about dealing with pesky doorbellers but this, such behavior as shameful as mine never comes in any manual.
There I was standing before her, door open, shorts down, and my cheeks turned absolute tomato, although I was wearing underwear, a boxer infact but it was embarrassing, I wondered if any moment I’d heard loud shriek coming from her mouth and a sound of slap when her hand makes contact with my face but something else happened, she laughed and she laughed her guts out, I had not seen somebody laughed liked that in my entire life let alone when the object of laughter is me. Honestly, I was so embarrassed at the very instant, I am no macho or anything, it was hard for me to take. And then she looked away covering her eyes pretending to not see me, some other time, she said running back and disappeared. For several minutes, I just stood there confused what should I should do first - should I close the door or pick up my shorts or just open the damn envelope that caused the whole scene in the first place. You see my dilemma was of grave Shakespearean nature – to be or not to be.
Anyway, I went inside and I sat down in my bed looking for a place to open the envelope neatly – what’s in there?
#
Scene at the office was chaos, as I mentioned earlier I didn’t really listen to my manager and went on the holidays against her will. It was not a crime but perhaps I hurt her ego somewhere. And then there was an issue of extreme disliking by Mr. Senior Manager, Vishwas. I had to be penalized, I knew it was coming one way or the other. So, I was only glad that I went on a holiday and super-charged myself.
In no time I was given a release, I was on bench, again. It was time to say goodbye to everyone, I hated the timing I was just getting to know Bhargavi.
A guy from my bus told me that the bench area was in phase-2, I felt happy to hear that. After all, that’s where Ishika worked, finally, I thought, I would be able to reconcile with her. Why was I thinking like that, I had moved on. I tried to enforce in myself that Ishika phase was over. But then in some tiny corner of my heart lived a darkness that told me there was a chance, however weak it was, and I shouldn’t give up. Bhargavis comes and go all the time, but Ishika is permanent.
The bench in phase-2 was a strange place, it was nothing like I experienced in phase-1. It was a cool, damp place where no-sunlight reached and people continued their banal existence under the fluorescent tubes. There were rows and rows of endless seats equipped with computers on which people stooped, with their backs bent like bows. What I saw can be summed only as some surreal experience - a giant farm where the virtual and the biological fused together to form a hybrid. There was no life there – no shouting around, not even whispers of breath; it was only the blink of the eye that confirmed there was life.
I grabbed the very first seat I saw, I couldn’t risk going deep – I knew otherwise I would never be able to come back. I switched on the computer which felt blazingly fast, sooner than later my back stooped and my breath silenced. I imagined myself walking in again, but my eyes could only see the rows upon rows of hybrids – I was one of them.
I still saw a silver lining in my situation, being on bench was a perfect opportunity for me, I finally started thinking about writing a full blown novel, but what I was to write about was still a challenge. A million thoughts would come and go just as the tides came kissing the sandy coasts and went away. Or perhaps it was my little attention span, my growing impatience; I just did not have my heart into it. I could hardly sit for fifteen minutes continuously on a topic; I’d drift around – play music, read paper or just plain fiddle with pens.
I looked ahead there was a small path that went through the woods, seemingly towards the sun setting in the distant skies, I wondered how long the journey was to be, I wondered how lonely it was to be. I thought about giving up, I thought about lying down and to just watch the sun come and go, I thought about ignoring it completely, I’d just close my eyes and stand still till eternity.
There were talks beginning to surface about recession and all, and there were two parties: one – optimistic, who thought it was mere a challenge, and not a problem, we will sail through comfortably it they said, and then there were the realistic ones – who just said, brace your-self for the bumpy ride. And finally came the day that cleared every doubt, the fall of the giant – Layman Brother – fourth largest investment banker once, now tattered. The shockwave rippled through the market, businesses across the industries fell, and IT was no exception
There were terrible news making the rounds in the company, the company which was so known for its pro-employee stance was letting go people without a second thought. One by one, the people who were sitting around me began to disappear. And those who were left speculated what happened to them, some placed their bet on getting a new project while others were not that hopefuls. The situation was grim we all knew, there was no point pretending.
After lunch, Pradeep my new manager rounded some ten of us. He had a small list in this hand, and he called us one by one. People around me look tensed, I too had a slight hint where it was going but I chose not be bothered.
“You all know how the situation is in the industry these days” Vishwas began. People nodded in silence. “Our biggest client financial stressed right now, budgets are shrinking rapidly. It is no longer the question of profits and margins, but a question of survival. What happened with Layman is just beginning of the show” People shuddered at the thought.
“We the corporation-“ He continued, “so far have managed to keep the expectation of the stakeholders, our customers, and our employees in balance.” His placement of the employees at the very end made me smile, it was as everyone knew a fact that employees always figured as the least priority, if at all they figured.
“But with crisis deepening passing every week we have to work harder so that we could maintain our commitment to our customers and stakeholders, and –“ He paused
“So that we the company could maintain our commitment to our employees” Faces looked pale, and throats went dry, nobody said anything.
“As you all know that you are not in any billable project but that doesn’t mean you cannot contribute to the company. You contribution is as important as someone who’s working in a project” “Finally, I urge each one of you here to support the company in these trying time, and put all your efforts to help us sail the troubled water smoothly.”
Everybody relaxed hearing him, their shoulder dropped in ease, the tension released. I too was moved by his speech, but more by the fact that he trusted us. Somehow, we ten were an important group of people who shared the vision of the company, we entrusted by the management to lead and set example to all other employees on bench.
Vishwas moved on and grabbed a marker and began scribbling on the white board. He told us he was assigning us a project that the company is trying to pursue from a new client. It was something related with anti-theft measures in back-office of online banking system. He explained the architect in brief and began assigning our tasks, we were told to do UMLs, and designs etc. I went back to my desk, sat down satisfied and began to work; I felt I was on a mission - to bring the lost glory to the company.
Dheeraj who sat two seats next to me asked me over for some help, he was stuck somewhere while designing a package diagram, “No, I think the OverheadSecurity package should supersede the ChannelManager package”
I suggested. Aiyar was sitting on the opposite row also jumped in, we all three have different views and finally we agreed on a middle ground to create a new package altogether which would supersede both of the two. The solution looked perfect, we agreed.
“So what are doing on weekend?” Dheeraj asked casually. We had hardly introduced ourselves to each other, so it seemed a genuine way to get to know each other. After all, if we were going to work together on the project we should get to know each other first.
“Going to watch a movie” I said, “and some chores pending for some time, I need to get my bike serviced”
“This weekend is special for me.” He replied without me asking anything. “My wife is pregnant, and we are going for her first checkup, maybe we will see the baby”
“Congratulations” I said beaming, it was something unexpected I admit, I was kinda expecting the usual – I will catch-up some sleep kind of answer.
“What are you expecting?” I asked. “A boy or a girl”
“A baby girl.” He replied. “I never had sister, even in my family all my close cousins are boys” Definitely a girl is a blessing of the God himself, I reckoned.
#
The weekend ahead looked quite relaxed and I worked till long on Friday night. I sat in front of the computer, I wrote words, words that had missing letters, since few of the keys of my computer were jammed from the last time when I spilled a glass of milk. I wrote something like - there was this guy and there was this girl. The guy was sort of interested in the girl, the girl seemed to like him as well. But as he always did, he was successfully able to screw things royally. Soon, the girl moved on, but the guy couldn’t, he persisted, and...
No, no, no this is not what I wanted, I backspaced everything and sat back in my plastic chair thinking how did the key jam, I remembered the milk spilled, my hands shook because some creepy noise startled me, I was alert, my ears wide open, but I was scared too, my breath uneven and my heart running like a wild horse.
I imagined myself languishing in care-freeness of a country side, I’d borrow creativity from the falling leaves of autumn, lying on the bed of green grass, I’d submerge myself in the depths of stagnant whirl pools thinking about the endless cycles of life and death, all nestled in the hamlet of grief and joy.
It felt like I was dreaming, it was a strange sensation. It was not a dream since I could feel the reality, I could smell and I could see; it was a dream since what was happening was entirely unreal. I was somewhere in the high mountains, Himalaya perhaps, wearing nothing but a strange striped uniform and a dull grey pull over. Near my quarters, a impressive one, mind you, with a garden and a view of the valley, I was taking an evening stroll, observing the night creatures. This was when I first bumped into him; he was no peculiar man, a very simple tasteless one. But what was remarkable about him was his ability to tell stories, he mesmerized me with his stories of what he called - life experiences. We grew friends and shared whatever we were allowed to share by this strange facility. He was a writer, patient sixty seven as he called himself.
And suddenly whack, my head hit the table, I don’t know how did it happen, I only remembered the pain in my head I felt when, and suddenly like I just woke up. I can write, I can imagine.
#
It was Sunday and I was giving my blue bike a little spongy bubble bath, I had a bucket nearby, some water in a plastic mug and a sponge in my left hand. I was rubbing it over and over, there was a little spot near one of the sides of petrol tank, she came from behind and totally startled me. “Hi, there” she said.
“Oh, hi” I said turning to her side, with the sponge on my hand and soap all over shirt. She was wearing a beautiful sky blue dress, long sleeves, high neck and way below the knees. I could even say that she looked absolutely like a child who was dressed neatly by her mother for some occasion.
“Sorry about the other day” I said. She smiled at me and said innocently as if nothing had happened, “What about the other day?”
“You know that –“ “What happened when you…”
“What happened?” She asked again.
“Sorry never mind, nothing” She smiled and said,
“Great, so what are you upto? Giving some seasonal bath to the motorcycle”
“I had nothing else to do” I replied. “That leads to the question what do you do, btw?”
I looked at myself, and answered “besides this?”
“Yes, besides this”
“Well I make software”
“Ohh! So they say the great IT industry of the country, the sunrise industry of the country” I failed to see the sarcasm in her response.
“What about you” I asked her. “What about me?”
“Yeah what about you, what do you do for living?”
“I study.“ “I study drama, and I study filmography”
“Oh yeah” I said with sudden realization, “At the New York Film Institute?”
“How do you know?” She demanded.
“Your brother told me”
“And you know my brother. But obvious dear brother is indeed very friendly.”
”Yeah” I replied.
“What are you so meticulously working on?” She asked.
“Nothing it’s just a bad spot that just won’t go.”
“Let me see, she said and ran her fingers over it. It’s a scratch.”
“A scratch?” I looked at it again.
She seemed to be a great girl just like her brother minus the weirdness. I wondered what different they have done to raise their children, or was it the money? Did money make all the difference? Even in your thinking, does it affect the individual and the collective in the same way? Were we really changing or was it just my perception or perhaps my association with people from different division of society, I could walk few blocks and bet that those people don’t think the same.
Her mother shouted from the car to help park it, she was wearing those big and square brown shades that film actresses of yesteryears used to wear. I wondered where the duo was com
ing from so I asked her, “Mother and daughter time?” She didn’t say anything, just hurried up, and I got a glance at the little cross that was wrapped around her neck barely visible through the little crack in the neckline.
Later in the evening I went to her place, I wanted to catch-up with auntie, there was some repair work that needed an attention, the pipe was leaking below the kitchen sink making the whole area very messy. My maid complaint to me thrice before giving it up, she knew well I was a lazy bum, too relaxed too do anything. Auntie and I were really chum, just talking about the grand slam and her favorite Nadal when the bell rang and then door creaked opened itself, I turned to see Sonia getting past into her room tip-toed, she had a friend with her whom I could barely glance. All I could say about the girl was that she had a frail frame, as if a cat which was not being fed properly. Sonia passed me a smile before she and her friend went inside and locked the room. From that point auntie looked bit off, as if something hurt her which was in wild contrast to the mutual affection I witnessed in the morning. That was the first time I sensed all was not well in the family.
#
The week began with what was a regular Monday, but soon it became clearer that all was not what it looked like. After I had my usual poha for the breakfast at the Food Court 7, I walked back to my desk and settled down. I was going through my regular share of emails, there was one from Vishwas, it was regarding that package we were discussing the other day. I shouted, Dheeraj without turning myself toward him, there was no reply. So, I called him up again, but again no response. There was a man standing beside him, I saw he bent over to his ears and murmured something. I grew suspicious, what was it that was being spoken so secretly. I couldn’t hear them but I could very well see and judge for myself. Dheeraj looked pale, I wanted to ask him how did the appointment with the doctor go, how was his wife doing, and if they saw the tiny speckle of life. Instead, he shutdown his computer, picked up his bag, he looked at me as he passed. He flashed a smile, but a forced feeble one. I stood up, I wanted to stop him and talk to him. But he was hurried, the guy in the black suit just escorted him away.
Zero Defect: An autobiography of a software engineer Page 16