I am an 'Interior Design' student. This course in particular, has made me observant.  Observant of little details related to buildings, interior decor products, new materials etc. From the skirting on the walls to the false ceiling designs, I keep noticing everything, unintentionally.

The phase of internship exposed me to various sides of Indian society, the prevailing culture and ethical bonds. Some sides which are creative and extravagant but some critical and sensitive to the bone.

I joined an ID firm in Howrah. It is located in the Central Avenue on M.G. Road. The firm is part of an office building, three stories high. The building was previously a residential type, I guessed from the exterior. But now, it is transformed, old, and very old. The huge rusted metal entrance door stands on the footpath. It leads us to a big atrium, covered by a green translucent corrugated sheet, making everything green, dark and dull. Various rooms surround the atrium, some rooms used as a store, some occupied by people but still very under-nourished. The staircase is on the right of the entrance. It runs throughout the height of the building. The lift well is beside the staircase, hollow.

The firm I joined is on the second floor. A long curved corridor surrounds the atrium on all floors. The railings are not at all reliable. They squeak and sway even when the wind blows. All the rooms on the second floor are occupied by other firms- an insurance company, an offset printers and a doctor's clinic. It was when I looked around from the staircase to find my firm, when I noticed the emergency exit, right on the opposite corner. It was locked. Who locks an emergency exit?

As I walked towards my firm, I stumbled on a big piece of wood which extruded from the railing of the corridor, making me loose balance. What a start to the new day! I was placed on a table beside the window, which opened into the corridor. I was disappointed about the infrastructure of the firm but my boss was a really humble and fatherly person. From my seat, I could see the doors to other offices, the emergency exit and the extruded piece of wood from my seat.

Not many people visited the insurance company and the printers, but there was a constant flow of patients to the doctor's clinic. Dr. Ray is a very renowned physician of the area, my boss says. He even owns this building. I saw local Bengali families with their children, women from north-eastern India and old people with sticks come on a regular basis.

After about 2 weeks of my internship, I got a welcome party from my boss at office, chai and club kachori. I was enjoying the feast on my seat when I saw something familiar. There was a woman cleaning the corridor.  She was Tibetan, I guessed from her face. She was not dressed like a maid. She wore a skirt and a top, clean and tidy. That was not a usual thing to see. Boss declared a holiday that day, after lunch.

The next day, I was working on my desktop when I heard a loud thud outside the window. A cute guy, about my age, stumbled and fell on the floor due to the extruding piece of wood. That is when I noticed, the emergency door was lighted from inside, and it was not locked. It bought a sense of satisfaction because it should not have been locked earlier. An emergency exit is very useful at the time of... emergencies obviously. And about the cute guy, I wished he was working on the same floor as mine!

A few days later, my boss was out to Sealdah to a site. I was roaming about in the building during lunch time. There are offices in the first floor too. I saw the Tibetan woman climbing down the staircase from the first to the ground floor. I was climbing down too, just behind her. She wore the same skirt and top, but they were untidy and loose now. I thought of talking to her but I am the shy type. I saw her unlocking one of the rooms on the ground floor and closing the door being her.

I went out of the building to a nearby book stall that I always wanted to visit since I was in Howrah. There were not many books of my type. I bought a newspaper instead and returned back. I spent the rest of my day making an estimate for a client. I hated those calculations!

The next day I was late to office. I accidentally hit a big guy while climbing the staircase in a hurry. He was a fat guy with a big face. He had a briefcase in his hand and a stethoscope round his neck. He must be Dr. Ray. I felt as if he was staring at me as I ran past him. I carefully dodged the extruded wood piece, without stumbling. My boss never complained when I was late.

That day, I noticed something weird. I saw around lunch time, Dr. Ray came out of his clinic, opened the locks of the emergency exit door, went inside and switched the lights on. After 5 minutes or so, the lights went off but Dr. Ray did not come out. I was shocked to see the sweeper, the Tibetan woman, walking slowly towards the emergency exit. She went in and my knees started trembling. I watched, waited. After about an hour, Dr. Ray came out. The lights were still off. While pulling out the handkerchief from his pocket, he went into his clinic.

I did not see the woman again that day. I kept wondering about her. About THEM.

I was back onto my seat in office the next day. I had nothing to do. Boss was out of station again. I opened my cabinet to find my internship diary but I found the newspaper that I bought the other day. I carelessly started reading the headlines. But one did catch my attention-

Nepal Earthquake: More than 160 trafficked Nepalese rescued by India in aftermath of quake

Activists said risks were much higher after the quakes when traffickers or 'brokers' duped devastated families who had lost their homes and breadwinners to hand over themselves and their children with the promise of a monthly salary and a good job in India.

Yet the reality is very different: girls and women not recruited into prostitution are sold as domestic slaves in India and other countries, while boys are taken into forced bonded labor.

My heart sank after reading the news article. I was shivering. Something hit my head. I ran to the ground floor to talk to the Tibetan woman. She was not there in her room. I started searching, her cupboard, the table drawers, and her bag. Her bag! I found what I needed. It was a voter ID card. It read-

Name- Saili Gurung

Federal Republic of Nepal

After a few days, I bought the newspaper again, from the same stall. This time I was reading the headlines with a smile.

Two persons held for human trafficking; two girls and a woman rescued

A doctor and his wife were arrested for alleged human trafficking for bonded prostitution and labour. The two girls were found at their residence and the woman was found at their office building. The three are rescued and sent to protection home, police said.

A few days later, I was back on my table beside the window. I glanced out. The doctor’s clinic was closed in locks and the emergency exit wasn’t. Perfect! 

I felt a sharp pain in my back as I turned to the side in the bed. I woke up to a new morning with an old ache. People who work on computers whether be an engineer or accountant or data operator, every such person must be having the same pain. I faintly unlocked my phone and suddenly my whole system changed. I rushed to the bathroom.

While I was struggling with my earring, I heard the announcement of flag hoisting on television. I ran to the drawing room and stood in attention for the National Anthem. As I was hymning the tune I saw the president paying salute to the flag, army doing the same in their beautiful uniform and the flag flowing in the air with its chin up.

“I want to see this live someday”, I declared in my mind room. The army persons were paying tribute to the flag; the crowd was quite sober out there at the event. It was when my phone rang that my eyes shifted away from television. It was my colleague on the other side.

“Office on 11, be on time”, it was more like an order. “Hey! I have got a set of tasks lined up, I will be late. Please wait till I reach.”, and I hung up with an explanation of being late in the near future. What I watched next was the president standing with his head down in respect and before him was a lady standing in a white saree and a blue shawl.

Her features told me that she belonged to north east and the commentary next introduced her to be the wife of late constable who lost his life fighting the terrorists. His wife politely received the honour and left the stage. As she was walking down the steps, I saw a grief yet satisfaction on her face.

She was crying as they pulled the camera on her. It was live. She met the president, she got the honour and she was crying. He had lost his life serving for the nation and she had lost her love. Nor she had anyone to complain, neither did she gestured to complain. She was polite and took it as an honour. He had chosen the nation first and she obliged.

My phone beeped again to a friend’s message. Meet me in 10 minutes. My friend was in town and he was leaving to the city he worked in that very noon. I tugged my hair, put my heels on and took the keys of my bike. I was driving my way to the cafe when I felt a change in the air. The weather was soothing, different from the other days. “May be the patriots and leaders who lead us to this day are doing this change”, I felt.

I reached the cafe. I was waiting there for my friend when I saw there was a change in the scenario. There were people hanging around with the flag painted on their face, gipsy and bikes were campaigning around like leaders, people around me were busy taking selfies. It was all engaging yet disturbing for me.

As we settled on a table; I and my friend couldn’t hold to watch the television in the cafe. The republic day ceremony was still on air. We were enjoying the showcase. The tableau from different states showing their culture, art and nature mesmerised my eyes and held them for ten long minutes.

Likewise, even my friend was concerned about the value of the day. “You saw the people? I don’t know what they feel it to be. I saw a flag waving on a gypsy.”, he was surprised. “Haha! Doesn’t happen in your metro city”, I said mockingly. And our talk over the respect of this day went on.

I left for my office, biding him goodbye. I missed the flag hoisting but met and greeted everyone. We sat over a light conversation on Bollywood with our boss and then he proudly told us how every year they celebrate the Independence Day and the Republic Day, invite friends, family, neighbours, workers, clients and even the kids passing by the office. They try to create a healthy celebration and a remembrance of the day.

Next, I drove back home. I spent the afternoon watching a movie on television that was based on a cricketer’s life and how he won the world cup for the country. It was a good film though.

I went for a walk in the evening with my friend. I told him about my whole day and how I felt about things; about the weather, the people, the television and everything else. He heard me with a smile and reciprocated politely as I asked him for his opinion. He said, “I think all the people who live nearby should gather in a ground and remember the freedom fighters and defence officers who have sacrificed their lives for the nation; that will be the best way to celebrate this day.”

And he was right, I realized. That one response summed up my whole day. Everything that I had felt that day, everything that had made me think a lot, that every thought got an answer when he said. “. We should at least resolve to follow a thought or a way given by some patriot.” such wise words felt my eyes as they dropped a tear of satisfaction.

The event of celebration that was been held in the capital every year, that was shown live to us, that we ignore every year, was actually a way to meet our real superheroes. The event salutes the efforts of our soldiers, give them a chance to rejoice and also show them the country they guard.

The flag hoisting give us a moment where all of us unite to pay respect to the nation who fought for our freedom, the flag that represented that freedom and the people who survived and even sacrificed for that freedom and the people who were trying at present to keep that freedom intact.

The small celebration like the one that was held in my office was just a way to keep the day alive, save the day to pass like just another holiday. And try to be a voice who said “We salute you” to the ones who worked even that very day for our safety. I got the purpose then.

The movie that had been telecasted was actually a salute to a sportsperson who had contributed shaping our country by his game and making the country proud in the international level. The channel contributed to the day by showing us the man who inspired us to be a better person and pursue our dreams.

The youth that was flaunting the freedom and was waving flags on their gypsy and bikes should have heard my friend. They could have got what this day was about and how they could have respect the day doing something better rather than wasting it that way.

 “By crushing individuals, they cannot kill ideas.” by Bhagat Singh, I read. I pledged to follow these lines and to never stop following my dreams and ideals even if it costs me to stand alone. I tried to make these words alive.

“Remember the freedom fighters and defence officers who have sacrificed their lives for the nation; that will be the best way to celebrate this day.”