KC bid me goodbye at 6 am for his impromptu FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) trip to Mumbai for Ganesh Chaturthi. I lazed around in bed till 6.45 am when the househelp rang the doorbell. Rolled around in the empty bed some more till the cook arrived at 8.10 am.
“To go or not to go for a bath?”. The cook is fairly new so I didn’t want to leave the house all to herwhile in the bath. I waited for her to leave and rushed to the bathroom. The door clanged shut before I could think twice about it. After 15 mins, feeling squeaky clean and smelling fresh with my white bath towel draped around me, I tried to open the bathroom door. But it wouldn’t budge. The door handle had been giving trouble for the last few days and we had started leaving the door slightly ajar or pushing the door open from the outside. Getting it repaired was on the weekend To Do list.
“Fuck my life”. Of course, this had to happen. I mean, OF COURSE. I could have gone for bath when the cook was around and she could have pushed the door open. But, noooooooooo. And it had to happen on the day KC wasn’t around. And of course, his trip was very last minute. The entire universe had conspired for this moment. They never do that when am stressed at work and need a way out.
I contemplated my options. 15 mins were spent trying to pull open the handle till it came off in my hands. Well done, muscles. This is why we hit the gym. To break stuff which locks us in further. I pulled on my night shirt and decided to call for help. As a woman living in Haryana, getting rescued in a towel by a bunch of strange men in an empty house can only go one way. I noticed the small window in the bathroom and was relieved to note that it faced outdoors. The stream of fresh air helped me wave off the mild claustrophobia.
There were two options – climb down 13 floors from the window or scream for help. The former was my back up plan (if a lean Rajkummar Rao could do it in Trapped, so can I) and I screamed with all my might for the guard. It was past 9 am, the window overlooked the bathrooms of all the other apartments and they were all sealed shut. Who is at home after 9 am in Gurgaon? Probably, nobody. And my voice wouldn’t reach any guard on the ground floor. 10 mins later, the angel who lives below me ducked her head out and asked what happened. I quickly explained the situation and she called the control room for help. 10 mins later, someone rang the doorbell. “What the fuck? They need to break open the front door to rescue me”. After 10 mins of more silence, I screamed for the neighbour and explained that I was trapped in the bathroom and the front door needs to be broken.
15 mins later, there were sounds of people outside the front door. I sighed in relief and thanked the stars for not latching the outside grill door. Else, they would have to break open that door, then the wooden door and then rescue me. Thank God for small mercies.
20 mins later I was staring at the faces of 4 mildly amused men for who this would be the most entertaining tale of their lives.
The guards and the complex carpenter quickly located a carpenter who could replace the front door lock and the bathroom door handle. And I took half day off from work to ensure this is done immediately. Also, thanked the neighbour below me profusely for all the help.
In the meantime, the control room had called KC for permission to break open the door and he had requested his friend to rush home for help.
KC is well known among the building guards for losing his keys frequently and calling the keymaker in the middle of the night. I had asked him to join the keymaker’s loyalty program for discounts. But this incident makes up for all his carelessness and we are now quite famous among all the guards. Well, we may have to increase our Diwali money budget for them this year. But of course, I don’t know any of their names. Because as a privileged, well earning member of society, I think money makes up for my snootiness and pretension.