Dana

The year 2001 was full of uncertainties. The dot-com ‘bubble-burst’ and the way it triggered plummeting of industry fortunes was depressing. In the west, people lost jobs by thousands and the ripples were felt as far as India. ‘9-11’ couldn’t have happened at a worst time, what with thousands of jobless, disgruntled and bitter people getting additional reasons for hating ‘Brown’ people. This nightmarish scenario was worst for Indians. First, there was the resentment that they were ‘stealing’ the jobs of ‘real’ Americans, and secondly most Westerners find it ‘tough’ to differentiate one set of non-White people from another. In that explosive year of economic downturn and terrorism upsurge, I found myself braving the merciless weather of Canada. A small wisp from the archives of my memory of the land of Maple leaf and Molson beer…

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The nasty winter and ever-increasing work load was getting to me. I decided to take yet another break and came to the ‘smoker’s area’. A couple was sharing jokes with a lady. This was the first time I had seen her there. The couple were regulars and always came together (the main reason why I’m ‘coupling’ them, later I found they were dating).

Unlike her friends, she didn’t pretend that I didn’t exist. On one occasion, she looked in my direction after cracking a joke. I nodded and smiled courteously. As soon as they changed the topic to weather, I stubbed my cigarette and hurried back to my cubicle; I know it when I can’t take it any more.

I saw her again after a few days as I sanctioned myself yet another ‘break’. This time we were alone in the smoker’s area. We smiled at each other and she started the conversation, “You from India, eh?” In the next ten minutes, I brought her ‘up to speed’ on who I was and what I was doing in this ‘cool’ place.

As time passed by, we kept on bumping into each other in the ‘Raucherzone’. We were equally committed to ‘testing’ our lungs. The time was spent in knowing more about each other and in reassuring each other that this is a temporary thing; and that we can kick off smoking whenever we want.

Dana was working as a support staff in the company. “My responsibilities include (but are not limited to) cataloguing shipments, liaisoning with computer vendors and sanctioning prize money for monetary awards”, she told me emphatically, letting out a thick cloud of smoke in slow, deliberate puffs. Was she trying to make rings, or was it hangover of the ‘Bollywood’ flick I saw last night?

Spring brings out the best in Canadians. The tense faces loosen, the smiles, nods and handshakes increase as the slow melts and trees start showing signs of life. There is a convivial mood everywhere and people throw off their clothes, tensions and formalities. One should be on-guard to avoid getting caught up in the ‘spirit of the season’. One of my friends believed in the environment more than his instincts and ended up in bed with flu. The trick is to smile with élan and nod feverishly every time a Canadian exudes “What a lovely weather, eh?”, and then wear your warm jacket before going out in 4 degree Celsius (above zero, off course).

I saw her as I opened the entrance door to hurry to the bus stop. She was standing with a lady friend and puffing her ‘Du Maurier’ ultra-lights. It would have been discourteous to not ask the reason for her glowing face. “We’ve just returned from a lovely trip to Montreal. We got booked though, 200$”, she explained in a beaming voice. “You know, we were speeding at 145 on a highway (speed limit 120), and then this cop stopped us. Checked all our papers and then slapped this ticket……We told him that this is Spring fever”, she told me with child-like enthusiasm. The spring exuberance was still oozing from her. Suddenly, the bus came and I had to interrupt her; I said bye and boarded no. 79.

Once inside the bus, I thought of her dress, “a black skirt and an off-white blouse at 6 degrees and -3 degrees wind-chill factor”. A chill passed through my body, and I zipped my jacket up to neck; I didn’t care that the bus was A.C. Then, I turned left and found the fat man with bull-doggish chin and round eyes smiling mischievously from inside the poster; the lines below the photo listed the options as to who he was – “the mail delivery boy”, “noisy neighbour” and “your secret chat girl”. The last option was ticked. Thud!! I barely managed to suppress my shriek. I better double-check Debra. Real girls don’t get so friendly, so fast. I looked at the poster again. The guy was winking. Damn!!

Dana was a true-blue Canadian; about this I had no reservations. She told me all about her dad’s Golf sessions and sun-bathing in the ‘heaven’ of Florida. I was beginning to feel uneasy about the place I had been sent to for this assignment. A bit of luck, and I would have been enjoying the delight of the ‘warm’ Florida sun. She also showed me the photographs of her trip to the ‘Great Lakes’. She preferred going to the Irish pubs; she found the light ‘folk’ music soothing compared to the chaos of louder places. She hated it when people got drunk and started acting funny, “I just can’t stand those people” she said with feeling.

Time flies by, my stay in the coldest (or one of the colder) capital of the world was coming to an end. I had not met Dana in the last few weeks. Maybe, she was busy. Did she quit smoking? No way, I smirked at this preposterous idea. Not before me at least, I reassured myself. I knew her place was two floors and few steps from mine. But, the idea of visiting her cubicle never materialized.

The leaves had started falling; the temperature followed suit. My days of switching to weather channel were over. As the temperature kept falling, the confidence gained during the spring and summer was dented. The plump fellow was still winking from the poster; I still found him repugnant. What a ‘cruel’ sense of humour!!

On a Saturday, I decided to organize my mailbox, tidy my cubicle and download a few mp3s. After a sumptuous meal of ‘parathas’, okra and kidney beans, I walked from ‘Donuts and More’ to my office. There she was, entering the building through the revolving door. “Hi, where have you been?” I asked. “I met with a small accident, and injured my leg”. That explained the limp; the off-colour face was still a mystery. I looked at her with questioning eyes. “I’ve been laid-off”, she said softly and turned around to press the buttons of the elevator. I was stunned. Did I look as pale as I felt?

“This was my last week. I had to take off for a couple of weeks due to accident. I’ve come today to collect my personal stuff” she continued, cheering up with each sentence. Talking acts as a restorative for some people.

“My boss told me, it was nothing to do with my performance. He could have done nothing about it. You know how the hi-tech scene is these days; they are laying-off entire divisions”, she let out a loud sigh. I kept silent. The doors of the lift opened as the longest elevation from G to 3 ended. She got out, turned around and said with a broad smile “Don’t worry Rahul, I’ll find another one”. I smiled faintly;’ it was nice knowing you’ remained stuck in my throat as the door of the elevator closed and it continued its journey to level 5.