Part I Chapter 3

There were no clocks inside the room, strange how an entire conference room was built without feeling the need for one. I do not know how long we were in there for. It felt like time stopped existing on the mere account of not having a measure. It felt like days, perhaps hours had passed. I do not expect a lot from my first meetings with clients, they do tend to go as bad as this one, but there’s always a buffer with them. I leave their homes with their closed ones consoling them after me, but it was a different game here all together. I couldn’t leave, not that I wanted to. It was just so inexplicably sad to watch her cry her eyes out. I could sense she hadn’t done that in a while, just let it out. Life gets to all of us in its own quirky way and its important to remember to let out some of the steam before it blows you up. Howling in the empty wasteland manufacturing plant was as good as any. Needless to say, not a lot of words were exchanged after that. It was not in my nature to ask questions at inappropriate times. I think I have the rare ability to know when to stay quiet, an ability I have hardly seen other people possess.

We left after all that time only to find that the lights had gone out. None of us were carrying our torch and had to rely on our own small beacons of light attached to our headgear. It cast a light only as far as the next step and we kept stumbling amidst the wind, the night, the boulders lying around. I had forgotten how cold it could get outside during the nights, not having had a chance to visit any place after hours. Her eyes were swollen shut by the time she got done, I knew she had trouble seeing so walked close to her. She stumbled a few times and I inadvertently stretched out my arm for her taking but she just looked at me for a second as if she was dumfounded by the suggestion and then as if nothing had happened carried on her way.

It was a long tedious way back home. I had my cycle parked at her place, but this was no time to be riding a two wheeler. Out alone in the big dark world with not even a torch to light the way. I waited until she went in and then put a padlock on the front wheel, tying it to her house. I wished to believe it would make her feel nice, to have a reminder of having someone else with her. That no matter how bad it was right now, she wasn’t alone.

I walked home that night and by the time I got back, it was almost time to go out again. So I just went into a bar that served coffee and order a bit of whiskey along with it. After the night I had had I needed something to process it all.

The place was filled with people of all kinds, the energetic bubbly younger ones hung out in the center with their coffees to go held gingerly in their hands. The older slower people were trying to make their way up to the bar without having to inconvenience the jostling group of about five young people. A couple had just walked in, taking off their gears and waving to the bustling group. I couldn’t bear to see all this so I asked the server to make it a triple, when asked which one, I answered both and took my drinks at the back, where a dimly lit corner held a one person table, because no one with any kind of company would like to sit in this corner. I didn’t mind it though, it has always been a choice of sorts, to have a life of this kind. I couldn’t be bothered to have people around me. My duties meant I had to give people a lot more than I could offer, people who I didn’t even know that well. It tends to take a toll, living like that, giving too much without receiving anything. After everything I had seen my parents go through, with my mother refusing to see my father and later me, when I decided to follow in his footsteps. She had dreams of a better life that he just couldn’t provide, not while living here at least. And he took his duties to his heart. He couldn’t do a bad job even if he wanted to and that just made things worse. She left us when I was about ten, she couldn’t bear to lose another member of her family is what she said as she walked out. Nothing in my life since then has made sense, it’s as if the center of my universe was thrown off balance and no one cared enough to put it back.

It was a weight that didn't let me enjoy any kind of pursuit of forming a similar relationship. Not that it would have gone any differently, I guess over time, with perspective I was able to realise that I couldn’t put anyone through the same thing that she went through with my father. It would be just too painful either way. At least this way, no one else gets to feel short changed.

I gulped down the drinks in a while and just sat there with my head in my hands. I barely knew anything about her, yet I couldn’t stop thinking of her. It hurt my head when I tried to stop, although I guess, it hurt a little either way. I was exhausted and really just wanted to go home and hit the bed without thinking of anything else but life here in this city didn’t make accommodations for whims like that. I drudged on to the admin building, stopping to look at every clock tower, wishing the time would run out this instance and I wouldn’t have to do any of this again. It didn’t though, nothing really changed.

I made my way to the building, dreading the very idea of having to work. I didn’t feel like it, my entire body felt jostled into this space. It felt unnatural to be here, to do all this, when I should instead have been by her side. I had to do something. I knew that. I couldn’t just let this be. I knew I wouldn’t be of much help, but it was my job to make sure that she at least had a moment of peace before she has to leave, to never come back. The very though of that idea made my heart sink into my chest. I had to find out more about her, I could’ve started with finding out her name but it just didn’t come up. How strange. I had spent an good chunk of a day with her and yet we had failed to exchange the pleasantries. She wasn’t anything like anyone I had ever met until now. Except for this one detail about her, I couldn’t put a finger on, this one small thing that made her entirely approachable, even when she put in all of her efforts into making sure that no one dared to.

I went through the motions, I was posted at the gate today. This is better than what I was doing a week from today. Someone from the patrolling shift had had an emergency and I had to cover for them for an entire week. I had figured it wouldn’t be too much different from what I had been doing my entire adult life, just making sure no one unauthorised came in, but it turned out to be a different game all together.

For starters, the uniform they wear is hideously huge, and has enough straps and knobs to make one feel like going on an exploratory mission to Jupiter. I had to come in earlier than usual, because it took over an hour to strap it on. And only half of that time was owing to my incapabilities, since everyone else on the shift too took forty minutes to put on their gear. It was such a hassle, taking it off and putting it back, I almost considered sleeping in the building just to avoid doing it.

At least now I was back doing something that didn’t require that much of an initial effort. My feet hurt every day of the week when I worked the patrol shift. I was barely having enough energy to walk back home and order in from the diner across the street. I spent my entire time laying down on my back, occasionally coming up to munch on some snacks and to take a swig from a bottle a colleague had recently brought over.

I suppose one has to go over to the other side in order to realise the inherent value of the side they were on before. Never before had I thought of the gate shift as a boon before that. They didn’t even let everyone take the break two at a time, one had to take their food to a lonely little cove at a corner to eat their food. Although, the peace was nice, but the cost was definitely too high.

By the third day of the shift, I couldn’t bare to look at the uniform hanging in the locker room without throwing up a little. I hadn’t been particularly fond of my previous work at that point of time, but having had a little time off, did seem to bring in some sort of positive perspective in my life. I had gotten used to the lifestyle that came with being the gate guard for the most important building in all of the city. It held everything of real value. All of us here get paid with money of sorts, that lets us survive our life in the city, but those pieces of paper are more or less meaningless in terms of having any real value. The city knows it, we know it, but we still have to pretend as if it is the most important thing. The people in the city that work in the admin building are the royalty of sorts, they get to decide what happens to the fate of the people before them. Every week, about five different people are chosen to be freed of their natural existence to make way for the newer generation. If they aren’t let go off, the city says they would not be able to control the resource situation in the most optimum of ways. The primary function ofcourse of the people that work in here is to ensure that the city remains a self subsisting organisation, that needs as little outside help as possible. As it seems, without much of the resources and the good planners of the successful corporations, cities don’t tend to be much of a success at being independently sufficient.

There’s definitely an aura of importance and grace that is attributed to the class that gets to decide the important stuff, we are, at our best, the pawns in this game of chess. As frustrating it feels, it is reassuring in a way to have the rest of your life be dictated by the arbitrary terms of a body which doesn’t have a face. They individually do, it would be weird otherwise but in toto, they are a faceless corporation, buying us time to live our lives in this place we call our home.

I greet the regulars at the post with my usual smile, and I thought I had been doing an okay job until I got called into the manager’s office. Now he was an okay guy of about forty years old, a regular smoker and frequenter of the city bar. If I wasn’t too wrong, I think he had a drink named after him there. He had just been assigned to this post a while ago and he felt the need to check in with the staff at regular intervals, an activity that had really lost its charm on me when it happened for the fifth time in a month. I had figured it would be the same kind of thing today when I walked in, only to find him eyeing me with  a look of concern on his face.

‘Are you doing all right there today?’, he said with a red face that sat atop a bulky neck of the same crimson shade. A cigarette butt was sitting half lit in the ash tray as another one was stuck between his fingers. His voice had a crackle and he started coughing as he was trying to ask something more, wheezing in a silent movie, he motioned for me to sit in the empty chair in front of the desk.

I nodded and proceeded to sit in the chair and I couldn’t help but notice the more than a couple of frames sitting on his desk. He had a big family and wasn’t afraid to put it out. It was quite a rare thing for people to do in these parts of town. Most of us either didn’t have much to show for, or were too scared to have it all taken away. In a world where everything is scarce, it takes courage to parade your wealth, even if it is the kind that can not be bought. I never got the sense in it. It didn’t add up, to do all of that, for just a fleeting of happiness that was as good as putting a cross over your being, asking for it all to be taken away. Not that it was always the admin’s fault entirely, sometimes, things just didn’t work out, privately, without any corporate intervention, and I don’t know if it was worse or better than having your loved one bundled up and taken away.

I must have been lost in my own thoughts for a while before I realised that he had proceeded to exchange the pleasantries and dive right into it.

‘I have been noticing you for a while now, you don’t look all well, is everything all right?’, he prodded me with the same gaze of concern.

I didn’t know what to tell him, for most of the people, I was just this guy who guarded the gates of the admin block, they didn’t even know of my other profession until it was too late. I shook my head, I knew it would be hard to just lie and pretend so I decided to make him feel like he had done something good.

‘Actually, I haven’t been feeling too well, for quite some time. A friend of mine has been given the ticket.’

‘Oh’, he said and looked right into my eyes, to share a look of understanding that I honestly found to be a little too intrusive for my own taste. Or maybe, it just felt like it because it wasn’t the truth. Not entirely at least.

Noticing my pursed lips, he went on,’When is it stated to happen?’.

I honestly didn’t even know, we hadn’t gone that far in our friendship to know that, or even get name for that matter. Could you even call this friendship, is what I asked myself. I chose this instance to put my head in my hands and hunch over. I must have looked particularly dreary and depressed at this point, because he came to stand beside me, with his hand on my shoulder. It felt nice. Weird, but nice. I felt a sudden rush of emotion, and I wasn’t sure if it was the night I had just had, or the drink I had had before walking in, or the kind eyes of the manger I barely knew, with his hand on my shoulder consoling me, but something clicked and I could feel the deluge of tears rushing down my face as silent sobs escaped my mouth. I stayed there for about twenty minutes before he asked me if I wanted some water. As soon as he left his office to grab some, I made my exit and grabbed my stuff. I decided to not say anything to anyone, it just felt like this burden that would break me. If I had to utter anther word to another person today, I would break apart right in front of them. That's just how I felt. I can’t be sure if it was the sleep deprivation, the exhaustion, or just the sadness from having spent my day with the dying girl. I staggered my way home, stopping by the bar for a night cap at twelve in the noon, I was so out of it, I don’t remember looking at any of the towers, or for that matter, how did I even get in my bed. All I remember is that when I woke up, there was someone at the door. Knocking away till the end of time.

I groaned about five times before opening my eyes, I wanted to pretend it was a dream that I could avoid if I just didn’t give much attention to it. In between the pretending and the real knocking, I fell asleep and woke up at least twice. The knocks were relentless and honestly, I couldn’t figure out who could it possibly be. I wondered if my manager had decided to stop at my place on his way back home. It was quite late, however and I wasn’t in a mood to engage with anyone who could have more alcohol in his system than me. Dreading looking at hid pudgy face for the second time in less than twelve hours, I opened the door with a look of dismay. But it wasn't him.

It was my bicycle, leaning on the stairwell, looking as if someone had recently washed it with quite meticulousness. I peeked around to look for her, since the bicycle couldn’t have knocked, at least not this much. I stashed it inside before putting on my headgear. I wasn’t sure how far she had made. I found her sitting at the stairs on the ground floor. With her head in her hands, bent over and hugging her knees.

I didn’t want to startle her, so I just silently sat beside her, on the step below hers. She raised her head for a moment to pass a glance at me, I guess it was her way of saying hello. Before nestling back in there and staring into the distance. There weren’t a lot of noises outside at this time. Just the night people making their way to their places of work. Hustling in the quiet dead of the night. I often wondered if maybe they had it easier than us.

We stayed there for a while, before my headgear started beeping for lack of oxygen, I was planning on leaving without saying anything and coming back, but the moment I got up, she did too. We made our way back to our apartment and she sat on the couch beside my bed. I tried to make some excuse as to why everything was out of its place, but it seemed too trivial to bring up something like that, so I just stayed quiet. I hooked the oxynooze to my headgear and switched on the lights.

In the glaring white light, she looked worse than she did outside. Her hair was in a disarray and she was wearing clothes that looked old and frayed. Her helmet was still on, but I didn’t know what to say, again. I put on the kettle and took out the tea bags from the far end of the cabinet. I didn’t have much in terms of a collection, but there were three random bags left over from various packets over the year. Chamomile, lemon and something with jasmine in it. I gathered the best mugs I had with me. One was chipped inside so I kept it towards my side of the tray. Tray was an over reach for this big plate that I had had for over two decades. I plopped the cups with hot water on it and made my way across to her.

She still looked as frazzled as I had found her. It seemed weird how we kept on meeting each other with no words between us. Silence enveloped us all around, like a warm blanket that kept on getting warmer as time passed. It wasn’t going to get better, I had that figured out. I had to make an effort. This client was unlike any other and that fact glared at me through the blanket enveloping us. Clouding my judgment, I was about to do the unthinkable and just come out and ask her what was it that was bothering her, well other than the obvious untimely end to her life. My words had barely left my mind before she sat up, as if waking up and took off her helmet. Keeping it on her side, she looked around as if she had no recollection of walking in with me. A minute or two later she seemed to come to her senses and reached out for the cup of steaming hot water. I gestured for her to wait. I was yet to put in the tea bag, but she continued to take a sip of it anyway. The water must have been scalding hot but she didn’t seem it to mind it that much. Without explaining anything further, she just asked me, ‘I need to know what is wrong with you?’.

I was pouring water into my cup as she said it and I ended up brushing the container with my bare finger. I was momentarily distracted by that. But I was infinitely more distracted by what I had just been asked, what was wrong with me?. It’s not as if the question had never crossed my mind, as I am certain it does all of us being forced to live in a world of rules and morals, and what not. But I was definitely not expecting someone, let alone a client, ask me that point blank. This is not conversion you have with a virtual stranger. Although, the tea and the dead of the night lined up perfectly with setting the mood for such a banger.

I just looked at her, with my mouth ajar. I was caught off-guard. When the lack of words couldn’t make the silence any bigger, I cleared my throat and asked her, ‘What do you mean by that?’.

It must not have come out right, if I ever heard that from someone else, I’d just declare they were insane and move on. I mean, what all had to be wrong to ask for a clarification. She wouldn’t be wrong to do it though, I mean I know all that is wrong with me. I do think about it, from time to time. It’s just that there never was a need to talk about them out loud. There was never anyone who wanted to know. That in itself has to be the biggest thing wrong with me.

While I was reeling on my own, I saw her take a sip from her mug and set it down. She really was not affected by the awkwardness of the conversation. I think, maybe, in her position, I’d have been the same, maybe not. She took her time and just looked at me right in the eye before she said, ‘I need to know what it is that fucked you up, I can’t tell you anything otherwise.’

That’s direct. I couldn’t ask any more leading questions. What it is that fucked me up. Well, where do I start should have been a good response, but this did not feel like a situation that would be able to handle a self-deprecating zinger like that.

I too grabbed the mug with the chipped rim and took a sip from the water that was still too hot to leave a bad taste on my tongue. I didn’t feel much different than my tongue right now. It was uncomfortable, I could hear myself breath and my heart was pounding in my ears.

Taking cue from my inability to still answer, she went on, ‘I need you to tell me what it is that makes you want to live, or die, or what is it that once did. I just know you’re as fucked up as me, and I want to know why, or I can’t do this.’

Well, that felt worse than the tea that just scalded my mouth. Her last sentence kept on running in loop in my mind. How could she know I was as fucked up. I mean, here I was just trying to be good at my job. I was making an extra effort to be nice to her and she just thought I was a fuck up. I wasn’t entirely sure if that’s how this was supposed to work. In the one hundred and eighty years that my family had been doing this work, I don’t believe any of our clients had asked us that. My father was a meticulous man, so was his father, and his father before that. They all maintained files that contained detailed notes on the questions asked, the appropriate responses and so on. Aside from how this present situation was going, our work was not full of surprises. I had helped my father take enough notes for his clients to know that.

My head was reeling in a way that was unknown to me, I just had no answer for her question. And the longer it took me to conjure up a repose, the longer she just kept staring at me. Somehow, even though I hadn’t told her a thing, I felt extremely exposed. Naked. I took another sip of the tea and looked over at her.

She looked more lost that I must have. Her hair and and her clothes were arranged in a fashion, but her face, it gave a look of disdain. Her eyes were sunken and permanently on the verge of crying. And that’s when it occurred to me, maybe this isn’t about me. It is about her, about having to come clean to stranger without having known anything about him. I could understand that. I just did not find any words to tell her. I knew I was fucked over. Time and again, the forces in my life had fucked me over in unimaginable ways, but I had survived all of them, since I hadn’t gotten a chance to get royally fucked by the admin yet. But she wasn’t as lucky as me, even with a bucketful of regrets, living always trumps dying.

I leaned over and stroked her hand that laid in her lap. I held her hand for a while, it was unbelievably soft and her fingers had clasped mine in a grip stronger than I could have imagined to be hers. She kept on looking at me while I looked at her. If it weren’t for the unfortunate set of events that had taken place for us to meet, it could have been a scene right out of those movies that are sappy and all about love. We did this for a while, before I got up and made my way to the kitchen. If she really wanted to know what fucked me up, it wasn’t going to be tea in our cups. I needed something stronger now that the hangover from my last episode with alcohol was wearing off. I called out to ask her if she would like a glass too, she nodded and I took two crystal glasses, a set my mom left behind and made my way back to her with a bottle full of the truth serum.