Arun really needed a break. What he believed was that having reached a middle management position, he was in a more relaxed and comfortable position. He no longer had to shoulder the responsibility of doing the heavy lifting and live as a bottom feeder and yet, he was safe from having to make the big decisions and face the big guns. He was never overtly aspirational and this suited him very much so.
The son of a shopkeeper, Arun knew what toil and sweat meant. He had spent much of his childhood as, in his mind, an indentured labourer in his father's shop. Because his father had saved enough, because his father never cared enough for his elder sister's education, he had the opportunity to go to one of the 'good schools', an English medium private school. Every morning, he would carry an inhumane number of fat textbooks on his back, wearing black shoes polished by him the day before till he could see his face in them. Every morning, for years on end, he would see the resentful face of his sister as he left for his 2 kilometer walk to school. Every morning, he would see the stoic and expressionless face of his father. Every morning, he would see the tired and somehow perpetually disheveled face of his mother. Somehow, their dreams and aspirations of him saving them from their impoverished existence seemed the heavier burden to carry than his textbooks. He excelled in school, not because he was motivated to do so for his family's betterment but to in fact be in a position to get as far away from them as possible. That was his childhood dream.
And now he was living it. Working on the 19th floor of an office building in Mumbai, hundreds of kilometers away from his hometown, he was the master of his own destiny. His sister had married one of his father's supplier's son and now had 3 daughters of her own to look after. His father and mother still lived in his old house, still paying a monthly rent to the same landlord, working in the same shop as they did when he was a child. Nothing had really changed for them but everything had changed for Arun. He was finally free from the shackles of his past with nothing but the abound sky of the corporate ladder to explore. As he returned his gaze to his screen, he thought back to what had been occupying his mind for the past 2 months, since his promotion: he needed a break.
As he shut down the tab featuring 30 places to visit before turning 30 on a social networking site, he returned to the project at hand. He had a conference call with his clients from Norway in an hour. After half an hour of working on the presentation and going through it twice to make sure he didn't miss anything, he went out to the 19th floor balcony for a smoke.
Sopan was already there, probably on his 3rd cigarette of the day. It was late afternoon and the sun was on its way to meet the Arabian Sea, basking the balcony in a golden goodbye. Sopan squinted towards the horizon, lost in conversation with his mother over the phone. Arun could hear a lot of monosyllabic grunts of agreement and it reminded him of his own conversations with home. He thought he heard a sob but it seemed Sopan was sniffling from the recent cold wave that had hit the city. As the wind blew away the smoke he exhaled, he felt restless and started browsing through tickets to tropical destinations. Bali should be wonderful, he thought.
With his heart almost set and mind already dreaming of the tropical paradise, he headed towards the door, looking to ace the presentation and then ask his boss for some time off. He was barely halfway through the door when he heard something. He turned to see the balcony empty, Sopan nowhere to be found.
And then he heard the thud.
The son of a shopkeeper, Arun knew what toil and sweat meant. He had spent much of his childhood as, in his mind, an indentured labourer in his father's shop. Because his father had saved enough, because his father never cared enough for his elder sister's education, he had the opportunity to go to one of the 'good schools', an English medium private school. Every morning, he would carry an inhumane number of fat textbooks on his back, wearing black shoes polished by him the day before till he could see his face in them. Every morning, for years on end, he would see the resentful face of his sister as he left for his 2 kilometer walk to school. Every morning, he would see the stoic and expressionless face of his father. Every morning, he would see the tired and somehow perpetually disheveled face of his mother. Somehow, their dreams and aspirations of him saving them from their impoverished existence seemed the heavier burden to carry than his textbooks. He excelled in school, not because he was motivated to do so for his family's betterment but to in fact be in a position to get as far away from them as possible. That was his childhood dream.
And now he was living it. Working on the 19th floor of an office building in Mumbai, hundreds of kilometers away from his hometown, he was the master of his own destiny. His sister had married one of his father's supplier's son and now had 3 daughters of her own to look after. His father and mother still lived in his old house, still paying a monthly rent to the same landlord, working in the same shop as they did when he was a child. Nothing had really changed for them but everything had changed for Arun. He was finally free from the shackles of his past with nothing but the abound sky of the corporate ladder to explore. As he returned his gaze to his screen, he thought back to what had been occupying his mind for the past 2 months, since his promotion: he needed a break.
As he shut down the tab featuring 30 places to visit before turning 30 on a social networking site, he returned to the project at hand. He had a conference call with his clients from Norway in an hour. After half an hour of working on the presentation and going through it twice to make sure he didn't miss anything, he went out to the 19th floor balcony for a smoke.
Sopan was already there, probably on his 3rd cigarette of the day. It was late afternoon and the sun was on its way to meet the Arabian Sea, basking the balcony in a golden goodbye. Sopan squinted towards the horizon, lost in conversation with his mother over the phone. Arun could hear a lot of monosyllabic grunts of agreement and it reminded him of his own conversations with home. He thought he heard a sob but it seemed Sopan was sniffling from the recent cold wave that had hit the city. As the wind blew away the smoke he exhaled, he felt restless and started browsing through tickets to tropical destinations. Bali should be wonderful, he thought.
With his heart almost set and mind already dreaming of the tropical paradise, he headed towards the door, looking to ace the presentation and then ask his boss for some time off. He was barely halfway through the door when he heard something. He turned to see the balcony empty, Sopan nowhere to be found.
And then he heard the thud.
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