From 49th floor…!

Today is a big day for me. I have been nervous whole night and could hardly sleep. I had tried calling Rosy last night to share my feelings, but she had not taken my call. That wasn’t new to me, but it made me more frustrated. My roommates were drinking through the night as I struggled to get some sleep and before I closed my eyes there was the wakeup call!

‘Ok, get in. We start the day early’ the manager said. ‘It does not mean you can finish before time.’

We scratched our heads with despair. None of us would talk while on work. And we would address each other by our assigned numbers, not our names.

‘B12 to B20 assemble near tower 12’, he ordered. I walked along with my team mates. The project deadline was missed long before and my manager was visibly tensed. The pressure was boiling down on each one of us. ‘You rogue, don’t you get it when I call your number once?’ he screamed at one of the fellow mates. ‘Get in line, quick. We don’t have time for demos or trials. Let’s get started. Take the elevator to level 49.’

It was the very first time I was getting that high. I had not imagined how small or scary it might look from such high floor. This was a new job and I had started just a month ago. It was a new country and I knew nothing about it. I did not understand what they spoke, though I understood when some of them stared right into my eyes after a long day at work. Most mornings, I don’t get to take bath. When there are 12 people in a unit sharing 1 bathroom, the lucky 2 or 3 get to bathe on a given day. We travel to work together by a private vehicle and I try my best to avoid public transport on such days. The perfume or deodorant doesn’t last long enough when the day gets hotter and longer! While they exchanged a smile with strangers, my existence went unnoticed. I would instead look at the small baby on a stroller that did notice and wave. I saw more places all of which were neat and clean, except me!

‘Why can’t you study well? We work hard to send you to school’

‘This boy doesn’t get anything; he’s fit to be a labourer and nothing else’

‘Get out of the house when you can’t earn enough. Your dad is sick and the money you earn can’t buy us water.’

‘Yes I love you, but you don’t earn enough to feed me, right?’

These questions had etched a strong mark on me and raised several questions on my own existence. I tried odd jobs from various sources but came back frustrated and penniless. Then someone said I could try abroad. I didn’t ask what my job was. I wasn’t good in school, but I was skilful or so I believed. I did not believe in anything else, not even god. God just did not exist. If he did, he can’t throw only problems at us. I had not remembered one day from my childhood when god was kind on my family. So god was as good as ghost, or may be worse, I had believed. ‘She might marry you if you go there and come back with some money’ I didn’t ask how much money. I wanted money to solve all the problems though I didn’t know how much!

I spoke less on the day I landed at this very large airport. I was taken into a room where 11 other people lived. They were young and old, came from various places, yet spoke one common language that wasn’t common enough to embrace me. I smiled at them and nodded for everything. That was my only language. Though I never learnt what they spoke, slowly I had started to understand what they meant!

Living stuffed like it were a cage meant we needed air to breathe, a little more space to stretch. On the day we had no work, which was once a week we would go out and explore various places that were free like public parks, bus stops or any space that was wide open and would end up at a temple. I did not go there to pray, but to eat whatever that was served for free until a priest would find out and shove us out to another temple. It would help me save some more money. I had learnt how to send money back home and I had a phone now to call Rosy. All of these in one month and I felt happy until today.

I am on level 49 with 8 others. They appear normal and nonchalant while I’m nearly shivering. They gave me some belt to wear and then a hood to cover my head, gloves that I always used. They were getting down, one after the other and I stood there without courage. I trembled as I got my foot down and set myself hanging in the air as I flung all over like a pendulum hitting hard surfaces everywhere around my reach before I halted. I held the rope tightly and looked down beneath my hanging feet. Then I heard a scream from above ordering me to concentrate.

And I dipped the brush in the container that had white paint. As I started to paint the building white, a drop or two fell from 49^th floor to the ground along with my sweat. I prayed my sweat should fall first followed by the paint. Or would it stink when it reaches the ground and make them stare at me from below!?