The Evening Shift

amrita.runs1
Women's Fiction
0 out of 5 (0 )

She hastened her pace as she heard multiple footsteps close to her heels. Even as she tried to maintain a gait somewhere between a sprint and a brisk walk, her mind churned with conflicting sensations. Fear, anxiety, and all of a sudden, a bewildering rage had started to course through her veins. At times, she wanted to halt, turn to her pursuers, and look them straight in the eye – defying every platitudinous reaction they must have anticipated.

“Don’t work the evening shift,” her mother had begged, “you know how unsafe it is for women.”

Geeta had, on purpose, avoided looking at her while she kept narrating horror stories and incidents specific to girls who worked late and travelled alone. It made her insides go queasy. But she didn’t have an option.

“Fine, I won’t go,” the rickety table had rattled when Geeta had slammed her purse on it. “Tell me how shall we pay the rent and bills this month? How will you fetch medicines? Will the households where you work help us?”

“I, I can ask them,” Kamini, her mother, had stuttered at first, and then looked at her daughter. Geeta knew that expression. Helplessness and inquietude were two things that had added more wrinkles to Kamini’s face than her age had.

Life hadn’t been fair to them. Her father was a daily wage worker. Over the past few months, he had started to hawk up blood whenever he tried to speak. The doctor at the nearby municipal dispensary shook his head after diagnosis.

“I think he has aspergillosis,” he had informed Geeta and Kamini, an announcement that led to an exchange of confused glances between them. As the treatment commenced, they had realised that the ailment was serious and the medication, expensive.

Kamini was a maid who worked seven homes to make ends meet. Her dream was to see Geeta in one of those tall government offices, sitting behind a wooden desk with her own nameplate on it. Whatever she earned and saved, she had invested it towards Geeta’s education. Geeta, in return, matched Kamini’s endless toil with her own indefatigable perseverance when it came to fulfilling her academic aspirations.

Had it not been for her father’s sudden illness, she would’ve already been halfway through her first year in college. She had even collected admission forms from some colleges. Crisp, fresh printed sheets of paper with a pleasing smell to go with them – they were the gateway to her hope and dreams. But the sight of her mother’s scarred and indurate hands stopped her from filling them.

Necessity was a hard teacher and at that point, Geeta decided that she needed to get a job. She had found one too, after several rejections. It was at a hotel desk. The pay seemed decent, but the hours weren’t. Her shift started at four in the afternoon and ended at 12 A.M. The hotel had informed that her conveyance wasn’t their responsibility.

The train station was 6 km away from the hotel, which did not make it a viable option at such hours. Cabs and rickshaws were sparse and out of her budget. The last bus to her colony was the only other mode of transport she could avail at night.

Initially, Geeta wasn’t too perturbed by the deserted road she had to take to reach the bus stop. But a few months after she had joined her new job, work had started at a new construction site a few blocks away from the hotel. During daytime, it was a clamorous site, like the rest of the city. But at night, it transformed into a joint for miscreants.

Earlier, when she used to pass the site, they would be busy gambling and drinking. But as days went by, they started to watch Geeta. A young girl, out at such unexpected hours all by herself – she was meat to them. It started with catcalls and lewd remarks as she passed their area. Then one night, they started to stalk her. Geeta was fortunate to find a police jeep at a junction near the bus stop that night, and she had rushed towards it. That had staved off the worst that day.

From the next day, she had changed her route. It was longer than the one she was used to, but at least she managed to dodge those men.

For a few weeks, a sliver of tranquillity eased her troubled mind. But it didn’t last. Somehow those men had discovered her new path and were now chasing her.

The bus had arrived when she reached the stop. She got inside without wasting a second, only to be followed there as well. As the men whistled and took seats around her in the vacant vehicle, Geeta felt pinpricks all over her body.

Like ravenous wolves, they ogled her. One of the guys, who took a seat behind her, started to crack obscene jokes while the rest snickered. Tears hurt her eyes as she fought the panic that rose through the pits of her stomach.

“The kitten had thought that she’ll outwit the hounds. But what’ll she do now?” One of the guys eyed her as he asked the rest of his gang.

“I think she should give up, Suresh. Kittens can scratch, but hounds bite,” someone from behind replied. Peals of brazen laughter filled the bus.

Geeta thought of calling out to the conductor. But the man, a haggard fellow, had his earphones on. Even as she called out to him, he looked the other way. For some reason, anger ripped through her as she saw this.

“Tell me bhai*, have you ever tasted the first mango of the season? They say it’s fleshier than the rest,” Suresh leered.

“There’s just one way to find out,” His friend retorted.

Geeta grabbed her purse as Suresh rose and advanced towards her. The other guys joined him too. Suresh was about to grope her when Geeta sprang from her seat and aimed a spray-bottle at him. While they were busy breaking her courage, she had quietly slipped it out of her purse.

“You want a taste of fresh mango? How about smoked meat?” Her jaw clenched, “The thing I am holding to your face right now is acid. If anyone of you comes closer to me, I am going to fry your faces.”

The men recoiled at her sudden change of stance.

“She’s bluffing. She’s a woman – what can she do?” Suresh tried to reassure his friends, all of who fidgeted in their spots.

“Really? You want to know what a woman can do when she has her back against the wall? She fights back. Let me start with your face – make an example of you,” she was about to press the nozzle when the bus stopped. The guys at the back scooted off first and Suresh ran after them.

“And if you ever follow me again, you will have hell to pay!” she shouted as they ran.

She put the bottle of water back in her purse as she got off the bus. A whiff of fresh night breeze kissed her face as she walked back home.

**

Bhai* - ‘brother’ in hindi

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