Chapter Seven

06:00 pm. New Year's Eve.

"Hello? Aap mujhe sun sakate hain!" Kanwaljit called out, almost shouting into the cell phone. He received no confirmation from the other line except for a faint crackling noise and some indiscernible broken words. "Hello? Hello! Hey Ram..." He muttered, combing his free hand through his dark wayward curls as he walked out of the motel.

Kanwaljit pocketed the cell phone in the right pocket of his khaki pants, and gave a sharp intake of exasperated breath. He let his legs take him to the intended destination while his mind explored his thoughts and feelings. He was a mixture of dread, disorientation and despair.

Losing his job was a violent punch to his gut. The kind that was silent and unsuspecting that it left his ears ringing and his head in a vertigo for a couple of days. But, as a stroke of luck, his employer let him keep the visa for an extra month. He needed to hunt a new job as soon as possible or fly back to his home country.

Kanwaljit huffed out a long sigh through his nostrils and raked his fingers through his hair again, causing a few wild curls to fall in front of his eyes. In an involantary motion, he swept the strands back from his face and increased his pace to a brisk walk.

He glanced at the horizon, noticing that the sun was almost down for its slumber and the sky was rusty red fading into a dull blue. It was only a matter of minutes before the sky turned darker.

Kanwaljit slowed down his strides as he approached the telephone booth that was a walking distance away from the motel. He stopped at a magazine vendor and changed a ten pound note into coins for the machine. He then entered the booth and closed himself inside.

Grabbing the telephone receiver, Kanwaljit plugged the change into the coin slot and dialled his home number. He listened to the droning overseas ringtone, his back braced against the phone booth wall, until a soft mellifluous voice hit his ear. He immediately felt like being enveloped in a cozy blanket.

"Maa," Kanwaljit exclaimed, the corners of his mouth upturned into a mega-watt smile.

"Kanwal!" His mother called from the other line, and he could practically picture her smiling with watery eyes. "How are you, beta? " She inquired in Hindi.

"I'm fine, Maa," He replied in his mother tongue. "How are you? How's everyone? "

"Alright. Everyone's alright, beta." She paused, taking a deep breath. "We miss you a lot."

"I know, Maa..." His voice almost cracked at the end. The muscles in his throat constricted and he swallowed the choking lump of emotion, mumbling, "I miss you too."

"Everything's alright there, right?"

He closed his eyes at his mother's innocent question. The concern in her sweet voice made his chest ache, and he flexed the fingers of his free hand open and closed, before replying, "Yes, Maa. Everything's good here."

"Okay, hold on, beta. Beti is here. I'll hand the phone to her now."

"Ji." Kanwaljit switched the reciever to his left hand. He then propped his right forearm against the phone booth wall in front of him and rested his forehead on it, hunching over the telephone.

There was a shuffling noise, then the endearing rural accent greeted him, "Hello?"

"Hello, I don't know why the call didn't connect." He said, referring to the phone call trouble earlier. "I'm calling from a phone booth now."

"Oh, no problem," His wife replied, and in tow came bubbling giggles and nonsensical cooing. "Did you hear that? Baby Taara says hello to Papa." She chuckled, causing him to smile along. There was a moment of silence, before she spoke again, "When will you come home?"

Kanwaljit gnawed the inside of his lip and twiddled the silver ring on his finger. "Soon. I will come soon."

They small talked for a couple of minutes until he heard the baby wail from the other side.

"Okay, I'll call you tomorrow." He mumbled and hearing the affirmation from the other line, he added— "I love you" before he hung up the phone.

Kanwaljit dipped his head and blew a gush of air through his mouth, running a hand over his face.

He needed to find a new job. He knew his family was dependent on him — even though they never demanded anything.

Kanwaljit felt like being caught in a blizzard. It was impossible to know which direction to go and the familiar landmarks were hidden behind the white that billowed from all sides. It felt like his world was spinning, and he just wanted to sit down. 

He stepped out of the telephone booth and into the chilly night air. Goosebumps tickled his arms and legs despite the layer of clothes he wore, and he rubbed his arms with his hands.

Kanwaljit trudged along the pavement in a shiftless gait, his mind rapt on his footsteps that seemed to echo all around. He lowered his head and squinted his eyes halfway against the sudden gust of wind. His dark locks fluttered in the air and his clothes hugged to his body.

For a long time, Kanwaljit footsloged around the small town on autopilot. He felt cooped up in the motel room, suffocated by his thoughts and worries. So, he pushed his pace and freed his legs.

When the soles of his feet benumbed, he stopped at a half-empty park — a simple grassy field abuting a children's playground, and stretched his legs on a bench.

Kanwaljit pulled up his shirt sleeves and gaped at the Titan wristwatch strapped on his right arm. It was a quarter past eight p.m.

"Are baap re!" He whispered, jumping to his feet. He lost track of time whilst stargazing into the naked winter sky in the park.

He commenced his walk back to the motel, stopping at a street food vendor to fill up his belly for the night and to shop at a grocery store for some more food, water and other necessities on the way.

The time was ten minutes away from creeping to half past eleven p.m. when Kanwaljit arrived at the motel.

He pushed the storm door open and stepped into the lounge, his gaze falling over a drunken man slumped in the chair. He recognised the face but didn't know his name. An air of meloncholy always encircled the man.

"Good evening!" Kanwaljit said, trying the common pleasantries with a warm smile on his face. But, the man merely looked up and nodded his head at him before lowering his gaze.

Kanwaljit pressed his lips together and gave a once over before walking past the stranger.

Upon reaching his room, he dropped the grocery bags on the floor and dug his hands inside his left pant pocket, pulling out the room key. As he inserted the brass key into the keyhole, Kanwaljit heard muffled words from the neighbouring room, that grew into fighting noise. Grunt. Thump. Thwack.

His fingers twisted the key and Kanwaljit pushed the door open. He then grabbed the grocery bags off the floor and carried them inside the room. Just as he was about to close the door, Kanwaljit was stunned by a deafening bang, like a thunder clap before a small lightning flash. He stood there, gripping the door halfway shut when another bang reached his ears.

Kanwaljit was rooted to his spot, contemplating if he should check the next door or leave it alone. Before his mind could decide, his heart made the choice for him. His legs moved towards the neighbour room — Room No.10 — and his hand raised, knocking on the vinyl door.

Hearing no movement, Kanwaljit knocked again and shouted, "Uh... Hello? You okay? I hear some noise. You okay there?"

When the door remained shut with no noise in response, his shaky hand reached for the door handle. Hoping to merely jiggle the door handle to gain the occupant's attention, he twisted the lever.

The door opened.

"A-are, kya?" He breathed; in the freak out, his hand knocked the door by accident and it swung wider. He took one step inside the threshold and quickly seized the door handle when his gaze landed on the figure lying in the middle of the room.

Kanwaljit dragged his feet against the linoleum floor, taking no more than two steps forward, his eyes glued onto the splayed figure. He felt a tingling pressure in his muscles and the time slowed down for few seconds as his mind registered what he saw.

There, right before his very eyes, laid an immobile body of a man.

His knees buckled at the sight of the maroon fluid on the floor — trailing from the man's body. Kanwaljit staggered backwards, hitting his back against the half-open door, slamming it shut in the process.

He looked away, then glanced back to see if the body was still there. It was. The scene was grotesque enough that he was sure it would haunt him for years.

The adrenaline kicked in his system as fight or flight instinct activated, and he spun around, yanking the door open. He dashed out, slamming the door behind him. What he didn't realise was that his sacred silver ring slid off his finger in the midst of the bustle.

Kanwaljit looked up and his wide-eyed gaze secured on the olive-green scrutiny of the person in front of him. The motel staff.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears and he swallowed as his mouth and throat became dry. Kanwaljit hotfooted to his room. He reached up with his treambling hand and twisted the door handle, ushering himself inside and shutting the door.

Kanwaljit sucked in a deep breath and raked his hand through his hair, pulling out some tangles. "Theek hai. Sab theek hai." He chanted to himself, hoping this was a nightmare and it would be over in the morning.