Bystander Effect - A Short Story

All of us are writers and directors of our respective lives. We script our life, direct them and give a bravura performance that Marlon Brando would be proud of. But why do we have to act? Can’t we live our life without acting? No. We cannot. Unfortunately we have to act when the limelight is shone right on us and an audience is keenly watching our every move. In those moments, more than the ‘you’ inside you, the ‘you’ that people want to see, come out. They cannot be criticised for wanting to see a particular ‘you’ because that’s the right ‘you‘ in their eyes. This is why I feel that certain noble acts of men should never be taken seriously when it’s done amidst many pairs of eyes. Only when a man is alone, the true inner self surreptitiously creeps out.

Let’s take this story of three young men living in three different streets of a particular suburb in Chennai, the capital city of Tamil Nadu. Our trio are in the age group of 19, 23 and 29. It was pure chance that their ages were all prime numbers. Now how they start their life every day cannot be chance. It involves a routine. They’ve been institutionalised in that routine. For two out of three that routine is not out of choice but something that was bestowed on them by the world.

Lenin

Every name acts as an identity for a person. It's not just to identify that particular human being but a plethora of other trivialities. Those include the region, religion, caste, political allegiance etc. In this, the most conspicuous of names are Karl Marx, Lenin and Stalin. It's not rocket science to decipher the ideology of that kid's parents.

Lenin is the 23 year old of our story. For our Lenin, Bolshevik is a foreign word and October is just a month. He never talks politics with his parents and he’s proudly apolitical. You can find a lot of such people in our country and for them only one agenda matters - Development. Our Lenin is no different.

The Tuesday started like every other working day for him. When the clock was a minute short of a quarter to six, his mom woke him from the deep sleep where he was about to enter a room where a woman was lying on a bed. His eyes were reddish from the premature sleep he had been having lately. But his poor mom just followed his instruction, which was “Wake me if I don't get up by 5:45”. Another morning began with him hoping that he could have slept an hour or two earlier but hope is an hopeless thing and I trust in nature(or God or Fate, whichever suits you) to crush all forms of hope. Nature is indeed a tyrant. After waking up he remembered well the dream and the woman who was lying on the bed waiting for him. Digesting that he got up from bed and went about the routine.

Harish

The 29 year old of our story is bit different from the other two. Harish is a typical example of an adult desperately wanting to unfetter himself from the clutches of his family. Probably life long pampering creates a longing to be independent. When the family attempts tyranny, the rebel inside him can jump out with ease to quell it but when the tyranny comes in the form of love and affection, the individual becomes the centre of the tug of war, with the family on one side and the freedom on the other side. The unbalance in the tug of war was evident that the freedom side always has only one player but the family side seems to be stacked with so many players.

Harish when he was 21, which was the summer of 2008, when the whole world was gasping at Beijing, his freedom side took a momentary lead in his tug of war. That resulted in him falling playfully, joyfully, madly and crazily in love with a girl. He felt like he had unshackled the chains that had restrained him. He felt elated that he had rebelled against his family. But then when the balance of power shifted on the other side, it resulted in Masters, United States and Boston. All that has to go wrong went awfully wrong with substandard grades, a long distance relationship and the continued pampering in form of siblings now rather than parents.

The relationship experienced vicissitudes that even a stock exchange hadn't experienced ever. Whenever the relationship peaked, grades took a hit and when it reached its nadir, his mind and heart took a hit. However irrespective of the relationship status, grades taking a hit was unavoidable. But he had enough to graduate and land in a half decent job. One fine day, the vicissitude became one dimensional and never spiked. It was flowing consistently in a downward peak and the relationship hit rock bottom.

This is a key chapter in everyone's life. Some take the rock bottom as a motivation to become better in life but for many others they would want the earth to just open up and suck them in. Harish was in that chapter where he was waiting for everything to go awfully wrong. He quit his half decent job, befriended alcohol and came back home with next to nothing in his bank account.

As I had said earlier the routine for him was still a choice unlike our other central characters. Every morning he wakes up to realise that his heart is still aching for the person now living in another continent. So he dials her telephone number every morning only to hear the ringing to continue perpetually. Next activity is to get out of his home until his parents leave for work. Like every other day he got out that Tuesday morning to catch a puff or two of nicotine in his lungs.

Akhil

Being the youngest in the family has its own perks and a story is not an exception. Akhil is the lovely kid of the three, the kind of person everyone want to be - chirpy, lively and always happy. He wakes up to Mozart’s symphony Eine Kleine Nachtmusik as his alarm tone, listens to music when walking to the bus stop for boarding the bus to his university, listens to music while travelling to his university and does the same while coming back home. When his parents realised that the time spent by him inside the earbuds is rather high, they ordered a headphone to protect their son from going deaf. The result was even more music but this time without the fear of losing his precious hearing ability.

Akhil is one among the several Indians who study computer science for bread and butter, and keep their passion as pass time. It would be harsh on my part to blame this on his parents though. Initially his interests were skewed towards becoming a musician but it took a good part of an year or two to realise that his real passion is listening, talking and writing about music. He felt that a 'music critic’ profession will not yield much remuneration in this country and it has to be kept as a side track.

He woke up around 6 AM that Tuesday and it took him exactly twenty minutes to finish off the morning chores and come out of the bathroom. I understand the envy here though for the countless lazy lot. Lunch was ready and packed as well. When the minute hand hit six, he walked out of his house waving good bye to his mother, promising her that he'll not run or use the headphones while crossing the road.

Crossroads

Every now and then, our lives are at crossroads. A decision has to be made on the path we have to traverse. Although people associate everything with fate I believe in the choices of humans. Fate does play a role but our choices matter too.

If that Tuesday had been yet another day, the need for choice wouldn't have come. It wouldn't as well if the person riding the Bajaj Pulsar had started his bike a little later. It definitely wouldn't have if the biker had hanged the call on his mobile phone and not had his head skewed to the left. It positively wouldn’t have if the car that hit the bike had chosen another route to practice. It wouldn't have if the driver had not applied the acceleration when the need was to brake.

So since none of the above happened the obvious took place. The driver of the Toyota hit the acceleration in panic and collided with the side of the bike. The impact wasn't thunderous, it wasn't glass shattering, it wasn't like how an accident is shown in movies. The impact was real and it created an unbalance for the biker. He fell to his right and his right leg got stuck under the bike. The more panic stricken car driver pressed on the acceleration to sped away from the spot.

Our protagonists aren't directly related to the biker or the car driver but are spectators of this incident. Unfortunately the only spectators. The smoking Harish threw his cigarette and rushed to the injured biker, the walking Lenin heard the injured fellow’s wailing and turned back in the direction of the cacophonous sound emanating from the injured biker. In case of our younger person, his headphones ensured that the crying outside was filtered out and only a mellifluous music could be heard in his ears. But something made him turn back but it was as if he was wearing screen filter, his eyes never noticed that injured biker. I'm not sure about the veracity of the above statement but that's what he'll say later when someone mentions this accident. This peripheral vision would be lost in his archives. He then walked straight without looking back.

Harish rushed towards the injured biker. This was the trigger point for Lenin, who thought of coming to the aid of the young man but decided against it and once again turned back. As a writer of this piece, I'm trying to place the thought process of Lenin in this situation. Is he the kind of person who'll rush to someone else's aid only when no one is around to help? Whatever may be the case it wasn't impulse that made him continue in his errand unlike Harish who I'm pretty sure did not think twice before rushing towards the biker.

Harish lifted the vehicle that was crushing the legs of the biker and helped the man get up on his feet. The swelling that was developing in his right leg was too conspicuous to miss for Harish. The biker experienced an acute pain when he tried to stand on his legs. It didn’t require an orthopaedician to understand the pain of the biker. Although the situation wasn’t life threatening, Harish didn’t want to leave him there.

He looked around for help and all he could see was two men walking in the opposite direction. He knew the futility of calling out to them. He checked his pockets for his mobile phone and found an empty pocket. He helped the biker to sit on the platform and was contemplating the next move. As if some divine power was listening to him and wanted to help him, the same Toyota car that hit the biker came to a halt in front of Harish. A young man with a budding moustache came out of the car. His eyes were puffed up, probably due to crying. He went to the biker and in a stammering voice said, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have run” and turned towards Harish, “Let’s take him to a hospital”.

When their car sped towards the hospital, Harish placed his hands on the young man to reassure that he needn't worry. The car passed another young man, wearing a headphone and walking with his head bent down. The walking young man looked up and his face gave a smirk. Harish couldn't help but feel nostalgic about his happier days and wished that everything could have happened differently.

Akhil saw a Toyota car go past him and wondered why the driver is rash. He continued his walk while from his headphone came the voice of Gerry Marsden, “Walk On through the Wind! Walk On through the Rain! Though your dreams be tossed and blown!” He reached his stop when Gerry’s voice hit the crescendo “You’ll never Walk Alone!”

Harish helped the physically injured biker and the scared Toyota driver to their respective homes and went to his house to continue his mourning of his relationship. Now almost a world away from the scene, Lenin did not think again about the accident. With problems aplenty, his act that morning became one of those trivial things one does everyday. He immersed himself into his corporate world and hoped for an early return to home. Akhil boarded his bus to begin yet another day..

Watch Shop

1

The kid dragged him into the bedroom. He knew it was a dream but it felt real and the feeling was that of a happy man wanting to relive a moment. With the swiftness of a good hiker, the kid climbed onto the bed. The kid looked at the air conditioner adjacent to the bed and screamed, “ON! ON! ON!” with more emphasis on the ‘n’ that felt like the ‘o’ became silent.

Like commands coming from a wand, the air conditioner obliged and switched itself on. It’s just a dream, he told himself.

The kid’s gaze was fixed firmly on the air conditioner, more specifically on the four watches that were left hanging from the air conditioner.

He started,”There are lot of…“; the kid finished, “WATCHES!”. He repeated, this time with more decibels; the kid responded in similar fashion with “WATCHES!” and called his watch collection as “WATCH SHOP!”

The kid pulled him close with his hands under the kid’s tiny shoulders. The kid smiled and shouted, “JUMP! JUMP! ”

“How should you ask?” was the question from him.

The kid revealed his finely arranged teeth and when the mouth went wide, the dimple in the check revealed itself to add to the beauty and cuteness of the kid. Then the kid came up with the answer, “UNCLE! PLEASE! JUMP! JUMP! ”

This time he obliged and lifted him off the bed and brought him down again, simulating a trampoline jump. It went on for twenty counts, after which he felt tired and asked the kid,

“Rest?”

“NO! NO REST!”

“Once More?”

The kid became silent for a second and whispered, “ONCE! MORE!”

It’s just a dream he told himself.

2

That moment came back to Vivekanandan again and again, every day and night, whenever he closed his eyes, be that for sleep or a nap or for praying. The recurring dream indicated the extent to which he missed the kid. The four weeks, the kid spent here, went in a flash. Time has this ridiculous habit of flying fast when you need it to be slow.

"I have to email my brother to see if he can come during the Christmas holidays" he noted it in the reminder pad inside his head. The Time he had spent with his nephew was probably the happiest he has had in a long time. It did help him in overcoming the grief that had plagued him ever since that fateful first of July when he had lost his wife, kid and his left leg to the garbage truck that ran over all three of them.

Everything in life wasn't the same until his brother gave birth to this little one. "You've to let go of the past", his more intellectual friends used to say. He could never let it go because he thought it was part of him and will go only when he kicks his bucket. He never looks forward to July but his nephew's presence made him yearn for it.

The first three years weren't same as this last month, when the attachment to his nephew went from good to great. "I'm his hero now like how my son would've looked at me and I should never disappoint him" he had decided. And so he spent the entire day with him, taking him to his shop to make sure that the kid is always with him. It turned to be more remarkable that they found that the kid loved watches. "How lovely was it to just look at him staring at the watches as if they were animals or birds or even cars!".

"He can differentiate the minute hand and the hour hand" he had proudly said when the kid identified the minute hand and the hour hand correctly. That was the moment when he had felt vindicated to have take up this watch business.

It was during that time, he saw a young boy, whose age he guessed to be around 12 or 13, clutching tightly the fingers of an old women, entering his shop. The boy's eyes darted around the shop and fixed his gaze on a particular section. There, his eyes scanned the collection of watches exhibited inside those glass shelves and zeroed in on a Titan ladies watch.

He was pointing at that watch to the old woman, who was curtly shaking her head. Without being rebellious but at the same time showing his displeasure, he dragged the old woman out of the shop. That moment aroused the curiosity in Vivekanandan, who walked up to the glass showcase that contained the watches and looked at the one the kid was pointing to.

3

That part of the shop housed the Titan Raga collection, a special women's collection that Titan advertised as “Inspired by the modern Woman”. He tried to put himself in the kid's shoes and glanced at the watches. Each watch was a blend of artistry coupled with opulence. The tagline had made him smile the first time he looked at that. Does the regality of their accessories determine the modern woman or Titan wants them to be like that?

Now to the more baffling thing of a kid looking at these watches. He wondered what a Kid sees in them. This continuing theme of watch loving kids - first his nephew and now this kid, surprised him. He remembered the look on the kid's face when he left the shop. Old instincts were screaming inside his head that the kid would come back another day.

His instinct was spot on and the kid arrived at the shop's entrance pulling the same old woman. He thought that she might either be the kid’s grandmother or a caretaker. She wasn't very keen to visit the shop again. Vivekanandan could see the kid on his knees pleading with her to allow him inside. The lack of empathy from her must have exasperated the kid so he unfettered himself from the clutches of the old woman and dashed into the shop to the shelf holding his much desired watch, to the obvious dismay of the old woman.

Vivekanandan walked slowly to the kid, taking each step carefully so that his prosthetic left leg is not so painful. The kid was staring at the collection of watches inside the circular glass shelf.

“You like them?”

The kid looked up at Vivekanandan and smiled. He followed it with an affirmative nod and continued his gaze at the rack of watches.

“Which one do you like?”

He pointed at the one in the front, that had an oval dial, that looked more like the eye of a woman although with a brown sclera. The centre point resembled a pupil and the sharp golden minute & hour hands were like nerves emanating from the pupil. Impressive.

“Hmm. Nice choice” he said with exuberance and when he told the price of the watch as one short of five thousand rupees, the kid's face lost its colour.

“There are some less expensive watches too, if you're interested.”

Again the face fell indicating his displeasure at the company’s pricing of his favourite watch at a not so affordable rate. Vivekanandan smiled to himself. Nothing can replace the innocence of children. But he was curious as well on whether the kid is seriously wishing to buy the watch.

“Will you give this one at a discounted price?” He pointed at the watch he had selected.

“Ha. That's interesting. You want a discount? Hmm. How much money do you have?”

His eyes turned to the old woman standing outside. On noticing his gaze towards her, she rushed inside.

“How much money do you have, Grandma?” He sounded in an authoritative tone to her. Without giving her the time to think he continued, “I like this watch and would like to buy it for...”, he abruptly stopped his sentence and showed her his selection.

“We can get it later. Come on! let's go” she dragged him out of the shop. Before leaving she turned back to convey her apologies to Vivekanandan. Unfortunately he didn't have the time to react to her apology too. When they were out of the shop, he could see the face of the kid staring past him at the watch.

4

Days were passing very slow for Vivekanandan’s liking. There was no sign of that kid during those days. He knew that the kid wanted that watch but he wasn't sure whether the kid's love has moved on to other things. If so then he might have seen the last of the kid but that helpless stare of the kid when his grandma dragged him out of the shop, will be etched in his memory. He wanted that kid to come back, just for erasing that memory and to ensure that the face that remained in his mind is that of a happy kid.

When you have almost given up on something, things happen to surprise you. That happened to Vivekanandan when the kid showed up alone. The kid looked at him for a fleeting second, when he got from his seat to walk to him. Perhaps the kid noticed the awkward walking style of his, as a result of the prosthetic leg.

“Look who is back!” said the jubilant Vivekanandan and that brought a blushing glee to the kid’s face.

“You still want the watch, isn't it?”

The kid nodded his head in affirmation.

“Do you have the money to buy it?”

This time the negation was shown by the kid by simply shaking his head.

“I'm sorry kid. I don’t give watches for free!” said Vivekanandan with a shoulder shrug and just continued, “Why do you want such an expensive watch?”

“I don’t know. I thought my mother would like this!” There was uncertainty in the voice of the kid.

“Oh! You want to buy this for your mother? Good. She will love whatever you buy, kid. How much you spend is not important!”

“Really?” he asked in a surprising tone with a face was beginning to look bright.

“Absolutely!”

“Will she come back?”

“Come back? Come back from where? Is she out of town?”

“No. I don’t know where she is. I have seen her only in photos”

Now Vivekanandan was confused.

“I’m sorry, kid. She lives with you, right?” he enquired

“No” replied the kid.

“You live with your parents?”

“I live with my father and grandmother” said the kid.

Vivekanandan hesitated but asked, “Is your mother alive?”

“Grandma says that she’s alive but they don’t know where she is”, he started sobbing and said, “I want to her to come to me but I don’t know what to do. Grandma said mother loved watches. So I came to buy one. Tell me! She will come back if I buy one for her?”

Vivekanandan could feel a lump in his throat. He knew that feeling of missing someone. He wanted to tell the kid that he can understand. But words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Is she really alive? Should I raise his hope or just bring him to reality? Questions were circling inside his head.

No. Reality will sink in at some point in life. Now let him have the hope that his mother would return to him. Should I give just give him the watch he selected? No wait! This is just a watch. He needs more than that.

He went back to his desk and opened the drawer. There, it was there, the ladies watch that his wife forgot to wear on that fateful day. It was the only remaining object that she had used. He had kept it hidden so that his nephew wouldn't find it. He was pretty sure that his nephew would've broken it if he had found it.

He took that out of the drawer and went back to the kid. His mind was protesting every bit to make sure that he did not part with an object that she used to wear when she was alive. But like every protest, it did not attain its objective.

“You like this watch?” he showed his wife’s watch to the kid.

The baffled kid looked at the watch and smiled at him. “Yes. It’s very beautiful.”

“Take this one. It’s my gift to you!”

The kid hesitated initially but nevertheless took it.

“But this is no ordinary watch. I've kept it till today because it belonged to someone whom I lost several years back.”

“Lost? You were able to find that person?” asked the kid with hope springing in his face.

“Yes” he lied. “You too can have it and hope for your mother to come back!"

The kid immediately hugged him and thanked him. Before bidding good bye, he promised to come to the shop if he comes to know anything at all about his mother. Vivekanandan was wondering whether he did the right thing. There was no feeling of guilt and surprisingly his mind too felt light and relieved.