What would it be like to get into the skin of another person and
think and act like he is, for a short period of time. Yes people, I am talking
about impersonating, harmless though.
I have once done it. It was something like I have to lie
more to sustain the previous lies – like a Fibonacci series.
The plot : circa 2006. I was traveling from Trivandrum
Central to Kuzhithurai West on a sleepy Saturday early morning passenger train.
The compartment was almost free as always, and I wanted to read for sometime
and may be catch up on my lost sleep too. I wish. I started to take out a
magazine and a person occupied a seat opposite me. I ignored him, and opened
the magazine to read. I obviously didn’t want to be distrurbed, but this fellow
wanted to strike a conversation with me. Some small talks – like no rain this
year, very hot, trains are full in evenings and free in the mornings - I nodded in agreement and went back to
reading after every nod, but the fellow was probably not a good body-language
reader, and he came back with his blah blahs.
I understood that my trip was ruined and thought to play
along. He wanted to know about me – my name, my job etc. I said my name was ‘Prakash’
and I am a security guard working with an agency at Technopark. He seemed to be
more comfortable probably because he felt that I was one like him. He asked
more questions about what money I make, if I am married, what other avenues of
income I had etc. Now I had to link all the statements I said earlier and then
connect it to my next reply. That was fun and a challenge as well. I pulled
along and enjoyed this mental exercise.
He then narrated his story – that he was in some section of Indian
Army and after voluntary retirement he was a security guard himself and how he
earns very little etc. He spoke about how dangerous these jobs were; the rifles
the robbers possess, compared to a guard with a lathi or a heavy double
barreled shot gun, which is often no more than a show piece. He also explained
how his biological clock went haywire, on account of his roster. More
importantly he sounded out his mental agony when he has no one to talk to
during his duty. He then asked me not to count ‘my’ security guard job as a
means of living; he advised me to get a degree, amidst my ‘difficulties’ and
try for a government job.
I felt a pang of regret, but I did not want to reveal my
actual identity. I felt happy because he could talk to me and atleast for few
minutes he could be his true self.
He could be anywhere – the one who guards the entrance, the
one at the ATM door or the one at the parking lot.
Alas! I do not remember his face. May be if ever I meet and
recognize him, I would tell him that, yes I earned a degree and that now I got
a good job. I just want to see him smile when he hears that.
I wish.
