It had been an incredibly ordinary day. A
day so mundane that, within a week, it would not leave even the slight imprint
of a long forgotten memory. As her computer whirred smoothly to a stop, she
packed her empty lunch box and the files that she would work on through the
night. People found it strange that a worker as devoted as her would shy away
from buying a laptop – a compact case of all the information she would ever
need. However, being a technophobe, she detested the impersonal click that
relegated a folder to nothingness. She would stick to paper files till the day
she retired.
It was 8:30 p.m. The workspace wore an
abandoned look with a single spotlight directed on her cubicle. The janitor
waited patiently, his broom propped up against the wall. As she strutted out
the door, he smiled at her but she didn’t notice. There was only one thing on
her mind – she needed to get home and get to work.
As far as Indian nights go, it was a
beautiful night. Pleasant and not too hot – it was the kind of night that would
inspire someone to take a long stroll or to picnic on the terrace with a glass
of wine and a comfortable shoulder to keep one company. Yet through the
darkened windows of her car, she noticed nothing but the road. Despite the
consistently crazy traffic, she kept her phone close – ready to take a call at
a moment’s notice. “She’s my best worker!” her boss would proudly tell his
superiors, “I can count on her to do something at any time – even at 2 a.m.,
she can recall the stats of our current customers!” People would nod and look at
her appreciatively. She was an indispensable cog in this well-oiled machine.
Pride would fill her heart when she delivered something on an impossible
deadline and she took great joy in saying, “That’s not a problem at all. I can
get it done.”
Her hard work had paid off. Financially,
she was the most stable 28-year old in her family, with a posh apartment in one
of the more highly coveted residential locales in the city. She would wake up
to the beautifully scenic ocean and her daily commute was an absolute joy. Her
car would glide silently past restaurants and cafes, brimming with people. As
the traffic inevitably slowed to a grinding halt, she would turn her attention
to these spots; families enjoying a quiet dinner, couples whose hands were
firmly entwined and friends who couldn’t stop giggling at the most trivial
jokes. For the tiniest moment, she would feel a pang of guilt and her mind was
overwhelmed with thoughts of unreturned calls and overdue visits. It was a
sharp one that lingered for an unbearable few seconds.
The car behind her honked and she opened
her eyes. The traffic had begun moving. She shifted into gear and her thoughts turned
once more to the files in her bag. It was going to be a long night but she had
work. And it had to be done.
