Attachments

Chapter 18

I was late.

I was an hour late to wake up because the four of us chatted until 3 a.m. before we dosed off in the living room, one after the other, and when my alarm rang in the morning, one of the four of us kept hitting the snooze button, repeatedly, until Nash powered-off my iPhone in annoyance; I ended up missing three incoming calls from Mr. Joshua, and two messages from his side, which read, 'Where are you? I'm cutting a thousand rupees from your salary and that's final'.

The needles on my wristwatch struck 10.34 a.m., when the elevator doors slid open on the third floor of the building, and exposed an office where everything was still and silent. The sound of the elevator forced heads to turn in my direction, and eyes uncomfortably gawked at me for a long while, before everyone shifted their gaze back to their files and notes. I turned my head in the direction of Darshan's cabin, and desperately wished he was present that moment; he would have somehow saved me from getting fired! But on his chair sat an older man with jet-black hair, which was obviously dyed to perfection, and had wrinkly eyes which scanned a file with focus. I dragged my eyes away from the old-man, and walked towards Mr. Joshua's cabin, clasping my hands together in nervousness. With every step I took towards the monster's cabin, my heartbeats rose in an uncontrollable manner and almost snatched my breath away; stupidly, I did spare a moment to wonder if my colleagues stared at me because they heard the sound of my heartbeats. But all of them, literally, had that sympathetic expression smeared on their face, as if they were aware about the drama that'd break out within seconds.

I stood in front of Mr. Joshua's cabin, where the curtains were drawn shut and concealed the whole cabin; mentally, I thanked God for making that happen because no one would watch and snicker at the sight of me getting roasted that morning. "Oh God, please save me; I promise I'll observe a fast for You if I don't get fired", I whispered, looking up for a moment before shuffling forward and gently knocking thrice on the door. I didn't mind standing at the doorstep and knocking it fifty more times if that meant delaying the process of facing Mr. Joshua, but I simply forced myself to push his cabin door open. "Excuse me, Sir", a literal whimper left my mouth in fear, and as always, I stuck my head through the gap, looking at him. He sat stiff and straight behind the glass-tempered desk and clasped his hands on the table, with a face that was grumpier than ever; he was waiting for my arrival with much anticipation and anger bottled up in him, I could feel it in his glare. "Are you going to stand outside and play hide-and-seek with me for the next one hour? Get in, Dityaa!", he ordered and I hurried towards his desk, like a robot.

"Goo-good morning, Sir", I greeted and cracked my knuckles. "You think it's a good morning?", he questioned, in his usual deadly tone. "Mor—morning, Sir", I corrected myself, hesitantly, and he sighed, shaking his head to the sides. I couldn't believe he gave up on me already; I was a bigger disaster! "Let's crack the pattern, Dityaa—", Mr. Joshua said, and fetched a pen from the pen-stand. "Yes, Sir", sincerely, I nodded my head in agreement and he pinned me down with a death stare. "When I'm talking to you, don't talk in between", he instructed, calmly, but it sounded terrifying. "Okay, Si---oh shit, sorry, sorry", I pursed my lips together. "Will you come on time tomorrow?", he questioned, and looked at me expectantly. I looked back at him, wondering if I was allowed to talk to him or not, after the rule he laid. "Can I—talk?", I asked him. "No, no, sing an answer", he forced a sarcastic smile and I felt the urge to punch him right on his face, but for the sake of securing my job, I tolerated the crap that left his swollen mouth. I was convinced that his mouth was swollen because people cursed that mouth for the harsh words it uttered. "Sir, I will come on time tomorrow", I answered to the point, even though a major part of me wanted to take the risk and 'sing an answer' to him. "What about the day-after tomorrow? You'll come late?", I questioned. 'If you want me to, I don't have a problem', my rebellious inner-voice answered. "No, no, I will come on time", I said, instead. "No, you will come late!", he stated confidently. What was he; a General Manager or a Fortune-Teller? "No, Sir, I will come on time", I argued, powerlessly. "Look at the pattern, Dityaa – you're late one day, and early the next. Today you're late, tomorrow you'll be early, so what happens the day-after?", the jobless man played mind-games with me. "I'm supposed to be late, but I promise I'll come early!", I attempted to convince him. "Oh, is it? How do I believe you?", he raised his brow. "Sir, God promise!", I swore. "Don't swear on God, Dityaa; don't target God with all your fake swears", he spat, angrily, and silence filled the room for a while.