Terrible Night

After a tiresome day, I wanted to relax and was flipping the pages of PGW. Already it was 12.45 A.M, and thought it would be appropriate to honor night. As an authentic way for good night sleep, I wanted to pay final visit to lavatory.

I took the great pain of lifting myself from the bed and successfully switched on the lavatory light. Feeling half sleepy, I tried opening the door. But then, it did not open. I double-checked whether it was locked outside. No it was not. I doubted my father would be inside, but he was already sleeping.

Checked once again whether the door was closed from outside. After confirming that I was not wrong, found it right to inform my mother. Already in deep sleep, she was annoyed by my interruption and gave the good advice to check whether it was locked from outside. I patiently explained her and she got up to confirm.

“Yes, it is locked. But how come? Just an hour back I closed the door and slept. Who can be inside?”, asked my mother frantically. The lavatory had a godrej handle and a manual lock. The godrej handle was perfectly all right as we checked from outside and felt the movement to be flawless. But who could have used the manual lock when every inmate is outside? There is very less chance that the manual lock would have gone wrong. Even if it had, it cannot be blamed for the current state of the door, for at the maximum loose screws would make it to fall down and it did not have the capacity to curtail the movement of the door.

I firmly concluded someone’s presence inside and opened the main door of the house. Brought these things to my father’s notice and bravely ventured to terrace to check whether the bathroom window could give us some clue. But it was locked. My father, after trying his hand on the door, came out to call the security for help. I too joined him.

My mother alone was inside now, and to add to our apprehension, our whole apartment plunged to darkness all of a sudden. I shouted, asking her to come out and with equal force, she quickly rushed out. I was content that all of us were safely placed, and concluded that whoever was hiding himself lacked confidence and courage for, he would not have chosen to remain in that place even after knowing that we became cautious. Some blurred thought told me that this power cut might be the act of that nasty gangster’s group, and even thought of alarming the police. But what if it was a simple lock problem? I never thought a Policeman could be as efficient as a carpenter in mending the door.

After a wait of ten more minutes, the old security managed to climb the whole three stairs and came to our place. Good, that he got a torch with him. I went inside, cautiously picking the chord less phone and cell phone, directed my mother to search for the lock. After firmly locking the main door, all of us went once again to check the terrace. It gave no new clue.

To our relief, we noticed that the power was restored. With regained confidence, we four set to detect more about the lock mystery. The security too tried his hand and gave an astounding look. “It seems it is locked form inside.” That was his great finding after 10 minutes check. “I don’t think something grave would have happened. Do not worry. We will ask the carpenter to do the needful tomorrow. Just a mild voice, I will be there at your service.” he said. Poor man, a climb to our place took him more than 10 minutes. It was our fault to expect something solid from his part.

Again left alone, we were confused. My mother safely parked the valuables in the bureau, and was wondering what to do. I could not help thinking about our Tamil heroes, whose ferocious single kick would make even the greatest of great doors to succumb.

After few minutes of complete silence, we concluded that it was nothing more than a lock disorder, settled to sleep.

Next morning we could not bring the carpenter and thankfully, the other restroom was in perfect condition, allowing everyone to empty his or her respective bowels.

My friend, who came to meet me, noticed the door and I pathetically narrated the whole happenings. She burst out into laughter and demanded a screwdriver. I faithfully gave it, and eagerly watched her at work. Just a few minutes, godrej handle was dismantled completely and the door was opened. The handle which was unsusceptible few hours back, turned out to be the real culprit.

“You do not need a Tamil hero. Just some common sense and a screwdriver to open the adamant door.”, she told sarcastically. I gave a hangdog look and my mother was in all praise for her. Long live my friend, for you have taught me the use of a screwdriver.