Life After My Wife Left

In my youth, I was a Business Analyst in the IT sector… before becoming a jailbird

This is how it all came about:

I was twenty-eight years old at the time and I was living in this little apartment on Broad Street, Kolkata. Now when you are married accidents can even happen in a pigeon hole of place. My wife fought with me and left for her native country. Her move changed my life for ever… she locked the door and took the keys along with her…

After resorting in vain to hammering at my front door and shouting for help, I decided to call a locksmith shop. Now if you live in India you will know trusted ones don’t have their phone numbers printed on any directory they can hardly use their own phones and the ones you have printed are alien to human need.

Anyway while waiting for the locksmith, I informed my office I would be coming in a bit late.

The locksmith arrived quite promptly. Though it has been ages since I saw him from the peep hole outside my front door I still remember he was a complete ass hole.

I asked him to unlock my door or just break the lock and in return he stepped two steps back and said sorry its trespassing.

It’s my house!! my door!!!
This time he sketched a quick gesture of annoyance in the air: "On the inside? In that case, it's already a more difficult matter. It's going to take me at least three hours, and I'll have to charge you about ..."
He estimated a terribly high price.
"I don't have that much money in the house right now the person who locked me inside took all the money before leaving," I replied. "But as soon as I get out, I'll go to the ATM and pay you."
He looked at me with reproachful eyes, as if I had suggested something immoral to him: "I'm very sorry, sir," he articulated with instructive courtesy. "But our business ethics doesn’t allow that."
I smiled, incredulous: "You're joking."
"My dear sir, I am bounded by our strict quality service norms.' "
I prepared not to accept such ridiculousness: "Please," I said to him. "Be reasonable. Open the door for me, and I'll pay you at once."
"I'm sorry, sir. There are ethics in every profession, and in our company they are inflexible. Good day, sir."
And, with that, he left slipping a bill of home service under the door for me to pay I don’t know when.
I stood there for a few moments, bewildered. Then I called my company again and informed them I probably wouldn't be able to come in that day. Next I went back to the telephone directory and placed some twenty calls to as many locksmith shops. Few came and went back in the same fashion with me locked inside and then I guess… I became popular… the instant they heard the address, they all flatly refused to do the job.

I called the security guard of the building and described the problem to him.
"Two things," he answered. "In the first place, I don't know how to open locks, and, in the second place, even if I did know how, I wouldn't do it, since my job is securing the locks not breaking it. Furthermore, you've never been too generous with your tips."

I then started to get very nervous and carried out a series of useless, illogical actions: I had a cup of coffee, smoked a cigarette, sat down, stood up, took a few steps, washed my hands, drank a glass of water.
Then I remembered my long lost girl friend; I dialed her number, waited, and heard her voice: "Madame X" I said, feigning sweetness and nonchalance. "How's everything? How's it going?"

Her reply left me trembling: "you are dead for me for almost a year now and I don’t talk with buried people”
Arguing with women is beyond my capacity, especially in the state of psychological inferiority in which I then found myself. Nevertheless, I tried to explain to her quickly what was happening to me. I don't know whether she didn't understand me or refused to hear me out. The last thing she said before hanging up was: "I'm nobody's plaything."

I now had to carry out a second series of useless, illogical actions. Started watching tV and changing channels.
Then I called my office again, in the hope that some fellow employee could come and open the door. Bad luck; it got routed to my CEO, a dimwitted asshole whom I detested: "So you can't get out of your house?" he exclaimed abominably. "You just never run out of excuses not to come to work!" BLAH BLAH

I didn’t hang up… battery got over… where is the charger… she took it with her. Why?? Same reason why she locked me at the first place. She surely carried some weird luggage out of the house… And so ended that day.

New Day

I went out onto the balcony and began to shout to people walking on the street. The street noise was deafening. At most, an occasional person would raise his head distractedly, look at me disapprovingly and then continue on his way. It never helps to stay next to a mental asylum.

I took 20 blank pages and wrote the following messages "Madam or Sir: My wife has locked the door with me trapped inside and went away never to return. I have been locked in for two days. Please, do something to free me. 1-X Hansa Appartment."

I threw the five sheets over the railing. From such a height, the possibilities of a vertical drop were minimal. Wafted about on a whimsical wind, they fluttered around for a long time. Few fell in the street and were immediately run over and blackened by the incessant vehicles. Few landed on a shop roofs and few…. Those few landed on roadside some picked by passerby to read laugh and throw it away. Few read and smiled at me or frowned at me…I remember there was a foreigner who pulled out his camera and clicked a snap of me.

In short, for many more weeks I continued making all kinds of efforts. I threw hundreds of messages from the balcony; either they weren't read or they were read and weren't taken seriously.
One day I saw an envelope that had been slipped under my apartment door; the telephone company was cutting off my service for nonpayment. Then, in succession, I got messages of electricity being cut, tv cable being cut etc etc.

At first, I used up my provisions in an irrational way, but I realized in time what I was doing. I placed receptacles on the balcony to catch the rain water. I ripped out my flowering plants and in their flowerpots I planted tomatoes, grams, and other vegetables, which I tend with loving and painstaking care. But I also need animal protein, so I learned to breed insects, spiders, and rodents and to make them reproduce in captivity; sometimes I trap an occasional sparrow or pigeon.
On sunny days I manage to light a fire with a magnifying glass and paper. As fuel, I'm slowly burning the books, the furniture, bed and cupboards. I discovered that there are always more things in a house than are necessary.

I live quite comfortably, although I lack some things. For example, I don't know what's going on anywhere else; I don't read newspapers, and I can't get the television or radio working.
From the balcony I observe the outside world and I notice some changes. At a certain point the clocks also stopped running. I don't know how long ago that happened. I've lost all notion of time, but the mirror, my baldness, my long white beard, and the pain in my joints tell me that I'm very old. For entertainment I let my thoughts wander. I have no fear or ambitions.

In a word, I'm relatively happy my wife locked me inside when she left…