Someone shouted out loud just when I was about to close the gates, I pulled it back without
My reflexes were at work and so I waited for that one second to get over. There
came a familiar face, who as usual greeted me with a smile which probably expressed her
gratitude for that one second I waited, and I smiled back. Those smiles were not so unfamiliar.
This was quite a regular affair between us. I knew of her smiles and never of her sorrows, I liked
how it was. The lift stopped on the third floor and she walked out of the small claustrophobic
compartment by putting more weight on her right foot. I knew she would take her time, I waited
She faced me and closed one of the doors and I closed the other, ending the joyful meet and
greet there and then.
I was always fascinated by the relationships these elevators bloom.
There were times when the 30 seconds inside the lift with a person seemed so less, because you
want to know everything about him and sometimes those 30 seconds seemed to be an eternity,
especially when you know the person is probably thinking about how the size of your shorts is
way too less or how your hair is bit too weird today.
There is always a question of what kind of conversations you will create when you meet with a
familiar face of house number 201. You know they exist but you do not know much about their
existence. You just wave a hi, or tell her she looks pretty or maybe talk about how hot it is today.
But it’s good to know that this relationship has no expectations attached to it.
So, one day yet again I heard the lady living in house number 304 shouted “one second” to me right when I
was getting late, but I waited anyway. She took more time than usual to come. The machinery
lift lady was ‘kindly’ reminding me to close the door by saying the same thing over and over again and I was pretty annoyed by that now.
The one second had turned into a minute now! The phrase ‘one second’ is surely used very lightly
here. She finally entered and tried giving me the grateful smile again but I knew by looking at
her how sorry she felt. I noticed something different in her. The wobbly walk had turned rickety
and today she looked really thin than usual. I wanted to ask her what was wrong but till the time I
could find the right words, 3rd floor came and she got out of the lift without giving me a
goodbye smile. Something was definitely wrong.
A week passed and I was again in the elevator going to my college early in the morning. The lift
stopped on the third floor and then 2 people came inside the elevator with a stretcher. There
she was draped in her white cloth with the same grateful smile stuck to her face. I was too
zapped to move to make space for her.
I had never told her how her morning made my day and how her one second was the prettiest wait.
I wanted to know more about her! Listen to her childhood stories and know what she thought about love. But there I was anticipating my relationship with her while both of us got outside the elevator; one dead and one alive.
I dared not wait or smile for anyone inside that elevator after her.
This 30-second relationship was too weak to call close and too strong to just forget. I wonder how many things we suppress inside us. The claustrophobic elevator and its relationships represent our real life.
Too special and deep for us!
Why not create a bigger space for them then?