Story of the Week [for the week 10.03 to 16.03.2008]

I used to work in a jeweller’s shop.

I say used to because I no longer work there. I was fired last night. We were robbed. I was labelled a pococurante, was called names left right and centre and was discharged dishonourably from my duties.

And all of this happened because the security cameras showed me nowhere in the picture when the robbery happened. All it showed was me getting pushed in when the robbers came in. And as the robbers went about their business, no visual cue about my activities thereafter was provided.

Here’s what happened:

After locking all the cases and tidying up the workplace, I was getting ready to leave the jewellery store premises. As I locked the outside door, in my peripheral vision turned up images of sudden, rapid movements near the mouth of the alley alongside the shop. I doubted malice and turned to check for strangers lurking around corners and miscreants waiting to pounce. I was greeted with silence and an empty street. With fear in my heart and trepidation in each wavering step, I started walking towards my home.

And then, I was pounced on by five people. Each of them was armed to the teeth and their common “sole purpose in life” seemed to be to trample me under their common weight. I realized that they were planning to get rid of me before looting the store. I managed to whimper a few words like, “Please don’t kill me. Please take whatever you want, but don’t kill me” or something to that effect.

All this had no effect whatsoever on them. So I turned to Plan B. Plan B involved shouting out loud: You morons! Killing me will not help you. I can disarm the alarm system. If it is kept on, and you try to barge in, the police will catch you in no time!

This had a calming effect, if calming is indeed the word I am looking for, on my attackers. A lull ensued, wherein each attacker was analyzing the situation and so was the victim. I was placing mental ticks and crosses on my options: make a dash for the nearest underground station… NO, make a dash for any random main street and hope and pray for a vehicle to stop for me… NO!, make a dash on foot and keep running for as long as it takes to get rid of my would be pursuers… Bigger NO!!, try to placate the perpetrators of a would be robbery and offer to help them, YES, try not to infuriate the people who were much stronger than me, YES… You get the drift, don’t you?

Anyway, the assailants reached a consensus and nodded towards each other. As one of them said to me later, when I was disarming the alarm, it takes plenty of guts to shout at someone who is mugging you. It seemed to me that they took note of my guts in this particular respect and decided to tag me along in their pernicious adventure. Once the alarm was disarmed, I was shoved into the store nonchalantly [this, of course was captured on the surveillance camera]

A thousand thoughts must have rushed past my mind in the first few seconds of my ordeal. However, the rate at which my brain was processing information had reduced by three orders by the time I was inside the store. Now, all my energies were focussed on how to survive this nightmare and come out of it alive, never mind the knight in shining armour.

The burglars went about their business pretty briskly. I could sense the urgency in their each movement. They signalled to each other to hurry up and maximize the hoard in minimum time. They might have entered the store as good for nothing haggards. But they were going to leave as millionaires. Of this, I was sure. What I was not so sure about was what the owner of the store, and my boss, was going to say.

My vision was filled with images of the burglars moving around the store, methodically examining and picking the priciest jewels, the costliest jewellery and the most expensive diamonds. If I had an eidetic memory, it would have shown me visuals of people moving around the store, carefully avoiding laying finger prints on any article. Of people who were moving really fast across the floor, yet never really moving at all.

Yet, I saw nothing.

My ears were bombarded with discreet sounds, as metal rubbed metal in the sacks in which the burglars were stashing their loot. My eardrums were exposed to sound waves that carried information about the rustling of their clothes against their hirsute bodies, cloth rubbing on calloused skin and unkempt bodily hair.

Yet, I heard nothing.

My throat was going dry. There were voices inside my head which pleaded me to speak up. Voices, detached from their speakers, which urged me to shout out loud and seek help from someone, anyone. My vocal cords were straining at their leashes, waiting to unleash a scream, a cry for help. Anything that would bring an end to the devastation of a legitimate business that had seen prosperous times till only a few minutes ago.

Yet, I said nothing.

The next day, I would be chastised exactly for what I did not do. Yet, that was a better thing than to face than a dressing down for what I did do. It is difficult to explain what was going on in my mind, when there was a beehive of activity surrounding me. I know whatever I did was a result of the duress I was subjected to. I know that there were a thousand reasons to justify whatever I did, yet the fact remained that what I did do in the store was disdainful and repugnant at best.

The reason I was not seen in the video surveillance camera evidence…

The reason I did not see, hear or speak anything during the entire gamut of the burglars’ activities…

The reason why the store got robbed in spite of my presence… is…

I was busy soiling myself in the corner where I had been deposited.

The only thing, other than this activity I performed, was a cleanup job.