SECTOR 43
By Adi Rishi

was working as a content creator for a mental wellness company from Berlin, but it was a remote job, and I lived in Pantnagar, Uttarakhand. I found it ironical to work on topics like work stress, toxic management, emotional abuse, work politics, and burnout when I did not experience any of it. My job was as pleasant as the weather, which was cool, full of winds, and fresh. I had everything you'd ask for—a good fat salary, calm and composed manager, freedom to work at my hours, and the benefit of staying at my home with parents. What could go wrong?
        My boss died from a heart attack. An attractive young founder of 27 who'd put her heart and soul into the company, she cared about the mental health of the whole world, but forgot to give attention to her own. Some rumours spread on our Teams group that she'd not slept for 3 days straight and suffered a cardiac arrest, but the details weren't disclosed to everyone. All we know is that the work would shut down right from the next week.
        To be honest, I wasn't devastated about losing my job. The thought of an alien distant boss whom I'd never interacted with much saddened me a bit, but I didn't lose any sleep over it. I felt sorry for her family indeed and wished that it hadn't happened, but what's the point of wishing when things have already occurred? One cannot unwish reality. I slept soundly.
        My father shook me up next day early in the morning. His moustache quivered when he spoke and he said, "Your Ma tells me that you lost your job. Is it true?"

I was too drowsy to respond but still I managed to say, "I didn't lose it. The founder died. What can I do?"

"Get out of the bed and start preparing. You must find some another job!"

I tried to ignore him and pretended to be too drowsy, but my heart was pounding.
        He didn't fall for the bait and somberly said, "I'd borrowed a lot of money from your uncle, son—for your expensive education, which by the way, failed spectacularly. Now, I've to return something back every month or else there will be trouble. Your aunt, she... well, she cooks a lot of sweetmeats indeed, but her words are nowhere like that. If I don't pay back, there will be trouble. I was counting on your input as well..."
        I was devastated right then and there because I had after all blown away my college education by switching my subjects in between. From engineering, I'd shifted to the arts, and my father never forgot to remind me how terrible a decision it was. I didn't mind his jabs, but I felt that I was in his debt indeed, for I'd wasted the money. So I'd have to look for jobs.
        The problem in finding creative jobs in India is that they don't come by easily, and when they do, you're paid less than a tihari majdoor. Plus, many jobs advertised as "creative" are mostly marketing jobs about managing social media, and demand a completely different set of skills. So it's very difficult to find a job that fits really well with you. My previous job at the startup was a golden egg in the basket, but it took months to get it. I supposed I'd lost that privilege.
        So, when I received an email from LinkedIn, I went through the process hastily, and by the end of that week, I'd found another job. It was in Gurugram.

        "Where will he live? Poor boy? Why are you sending him so soon?" My mother was arguing with my father over breakfast while serving us hot aalo paranthas.

I tried to focus on my meal, observing the melting butter, but couldn't keep the words out.

My father responded, "A job's like a duty—when it calls, one must go. Stop spoiling him and—I'll take one more parantha."

My mother served him another, then sat on the chair and looked at me anxiously, "Will you be able to manage?"

I said, "Yes Ma. There won't be any trouble. I've already found an app through which I can search for houses and contact the owners directly. I'll get one quickly and move. You too can come later to visit when I've settled."

She looked at me with a funny expression and I felt like saying something, but my Papa burped loudly and said, "I think I can eat another... Can you make one?"

She rolled her eyes at him then went into the kitchen.

        By evening, I'd found a decent house in Gurugram Sector 43 and talked to the owner as well. He seemed eager to rent it out to me and was completely okay if I moved within the next two days. The only thing that he'd bothered me with was my surname, though he informed me that the house was fully furnished and a bit stacked as the previous tenant had left her items. He asked me not to move things around a lot.

So, I set off for Gurugram on the weekend and my father agreed to drop me by car. I packed up my luggage in two big suitcases, dumped it all in the boot, and drove all the way from Pantnagar to Gurugram while my father sat next to me, giving me tips and wisdom based on his early days in the job. I didn't respond much because mentally I was thinking—He has a government job, which he doesn't even do very well, nor has he ever had to worry about getting fired. What advice of his will be useful for me?
        It took me four and a half hours to reach from Pantnagar to Delhi, but Delhi to Gurugram took two and a half hours on its own. It was very frustrating because Pantnagar was 280 km away from Delhi, so the hours made sense, but Gurugram was just 30 km away, and yet it took so much time. The reason was that the traffic in Delhi didn't move but crawled. There must have been more than 1,000 cars lined up on the road, and they moved inch by inch. The route on Google Maps was marked with thick blood red, and both me and my father lost our temper in the car due to the traffic.

Finally, we arrived in Sector 43, Gurugram, but the night had come. It took us some time to find the house because the number plate had fallen, and strangely the entire building was covered by a dark shadow of the tree standing next to it. It was the only unlit building in the street, which made sense because it was empty. My father helped me unload my stuff from the boot and we put it all in the hall. Then we inspected the house and checked out the rooms.
        "This is quite a good find, son—it is big and spacious. You shouldn't have any trouble."

"I guess I won't... but I should start unpacking everything. My job starts from tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, of course—get moving. Meanwhile, I'll go and visit your uncle in Delhi. I promised I'll stay over at his place. So you get cracking, and I'll see you soon. Best of luck."

He thumped my back, got up, then left quickly, driving the Tata away quite rashly in the Gurugram streets.

I was about to set up my room when the light went out suddenly and the swirling fan came to a stop. I was bathed in utter darkness as if someone had wrapped a blanket over my head. I pulled out my phone, but realized with a panic that it had only 3% battery left. I put it to airplane mode for now, then tried to inspect my surroundings by the meagre light. It was then I realized that the house did not have even a single window. It felt suffocating immediately.
        There was one sandwich left in my tiffin which my mother had packed for me. I hunted for it in the bag and, after eating, I decided to lie on the bed and wait for the light to come. It was not a good start to my new job…

I don't know when I'd fallen asleep, but I woke up suddenly in alarm because I felt like somebody was watching me. My heart hammered in my chest and my body was wet with perspiration. I peered into the darkness and remained still, but nothing happened, and I decided that it must have been some crazy dream.
        Then, I felt extremely thirsty and went to the kitchen and flipped on the switch. Luckily the light had returned, and I shook the drawers to find a glass. When I opened the bottom-most drawer, I jumped in alarm because a massive cockroach was sitting there being ugly and all. I'd never seen a cockroach that big in my entire life, and I shut the drawer quickly, deciding that I'd kill it the next day. I drank the water and, after putting my phone on charge, went to the bed again. Then I got up again, put the alarm for 6, and finally went to sleep.
        My eyes opened suddenly on their own and froze, staring at the fan. Once again, my heart was thumping and my body felt cold. Then there came a very loud thud from near me and a glass cracked somewhere. I jumped up and realized that the bedroom had a window after all. But it was cracked and smeared with blood, and a strange black mass lay on the floor.
        I went to it slowly and saw that it was a pigeon. Its neck had snapped and the head hung at a strange angle, and blood was leaking on the floor. A bile of vomit threatened to erupt from my stomach, and I turned away quickly, rushing to drink a glass of water again. This time when I entered the kitchen, I saw that there were a few tiny cockroaches crawling all over the kitchen slab, and for the first time, I wondered whether the water was fine or not. It was morning, but I already felt tired.
        There was no clock in the house, nor was there any light in the hall, which made it very depressing. I went to the phone but when I saw the time, every other thought evaporated from my mind, because it was already 8:13. How the hell did the alarm not wake me up?

I rushed to my bag, pulled out my ironed shirts and pants, and got dressed in minutes. I put on some roll-on and deodorant, then booked an auto from Uber. It arrived in 2 minutes, but the entire journey to the office took more than 45 minutes, because once again the roads were choked with SUVs, and they were all honking at each other as if cursing and abusing the drivers. That, and the terrible heatwave, made my head swirl and I wanted to throw up the moment I arrived at my place. It was my first day at the job.

        I'd seen many posts and reels about toxic Indian managers, but I'd personally never experienced one. After meeting my manager though, I realized that he was singularly the most insulting, mean, arrogant, and a stupid asshole who was manager only because he had money, not because he knew management. I realized all of that on the first day itself.

So, when I returned home at around 8 in the evening, I was feeling very sick. My head was throbbing with a stabbing migraine and hot bile burnt my stomach. My vision was groggy, and I felt nauseated. Right after making the payment to the auto driver, I ended up vomiting in the bushes and almost threw my guts out in the process. I felt very weak. The mind was spinning.
        Somehow I managed to unlock the door, but a stench like that of rotten eggs flew in my face, and I threw up right outside the main gate. I began feeling extremely woozy and thought that I was going to die. The face of my mother floated in front of my eyes.

It gave me strength and I remembered that hydration was important after vomiting, so I entered the kitchen. When I turned on the light, I saw that the slab was covered with many cockroaches, and many were running on the floor. I spotted a few strange insects with a long curvy body like that of a snake but with many legs. It went into the sink before I could kill it.
        I drank four glasses of water and managed to throw myself on the bed. Everything was spinning and turning as if I were drunk. My migraine attacked me once again, and I cried out loud in pain, cursing myself loudly.

"Fuck this shitty place. Why did I ever come here?"

Right at that moment, as if in response, the lights went out, and I was bathed in complete darkness. I cried loudly on the bed, then passed out.

I was very groggy and felt feverish. My brain was on fire, and I think I was seeing visions. I wasn't sure what was happening. I tried to look for my phone, but couldn't move my body at all. I tried again, then realized with horror that I couldn't move my body at all. Was this sleep paralysis?

In that moment, my soul screamed at me to wake up and run, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing happened. My heartbeat started going up and my senses sharpened. I heard everything in precise detail. The dripping of the tap water, the strange tapping on the window, the labored breath—and suddenly I heard a soft eerie rustle. My ears picked it up and, in horror, I realized that it was a voice. Someone was whispering.

I wanted to shout out and cry, but my body was not in my control anymore. I lay there petrified and the voice began to come close to me, whispering like rustling leaves. It was the voice of some woman and she was speaking very rapidly but softly. The voice kept coming closer and all the hair on my arms stood up. It came right next to me and poured its whispers. I understood it. It was in English.
        "It happened to me too, it happened to me, it happens to many others. My work, my job, my boss, my family—all gone wrong, all bad. It happened to me, it happens to all. This place, this place... it's not right... this place... my work, my job... it happened to me, it happens to you, it happens to all."

The horrifying slithering whispers flooded into my thoughts and my soul dissolved in horror at what was happening to me, but I still could not move. Then the migraine returned once again and a flame seemed to erupt and cover my brain. I passed out.

        I woke up in darkness and felt extremely thirsty. My head was aching and I had trouble recollecting what was going on, but before I could proceed, I froze in fear because I was not alone.

There was someone in front of me, and the outline was clear from the dim lights that came from the body. I gazed with wide eyes at the figure and suddenly realized the truth.

It was actually a bone-white corpse hanging from the fan. She had long black hair and wore a saree.

My heart leapt into my mouth as I lay frozen in silent horror, staring at the body. Slowly, it began to turn towards me, and my eyes fell on the dead face of the woman. The throat had turned dark blue and the skin on her face was covered with green veins. There seemed to be a deep anguish in her expression, and I lay petrified staring at the horrible thing until—its eyes flew open and it smiled at me.

I screamed loudly and jumped.
        Suddenly, I woke up on the bed and once again my heart was beating like a drum against my chest. I gazed around in panic at the darkness, then looked in front of me at the fan. There was no corpse or rope. It had all been a dream.
        Still, I could not shake off the feeling that somebody was watching me, and I felt extremely uneasy in that room. I looked at the window, then at the curtains, and it seemed to move. I wanted to run away from my room.
        I grabbed my phone and tried to switch it on, but once again it had run out of charge. In that moment, I felt desperate and, without thinking properly, I rushed out of the room.
        Something skirted around the corners the moment I entered the hall, but my eyes caught the sight of a tail, and I realized that it was a rat. I went to the kitchen to drink some water, but when I flipped on the switch, I jumped back because a swarm of cockroaches was crawling everywhere. The entire sink was filled with a horde of cockroaches, and there were other dead insects on the slab as well. I recoiled in horror and ran out of the house.
        The air was cool and fresh, reminding me a bit of Pantnagar, and that calmed me immediately. I took a few deep breaths, let the silence of the night sink in, then hummed some of my favorite tunes. Even this much made me feel better. Then I turned and looked at the house.
        Once again, it was the only building in the street completely shrouded in darkness. It seemed that a strange shadow shrouded it.

I spent the night outside and found a park where I sat on the bench and got lost in my thoughts. The next day, I didn't go to the office and quit my job by sending an email. I went to the house in the morning, repacked all of my stuff, then shifted to a friend's place in Delhi.
        But I kept returning to Gurugram for another week—not to look for jobs, but to find out the history of that apartment. After talking to some neighbours and going through social media, I discovered—
        A young woman had lived there before me, and she'd worked for a major company I cannot name. Her LinkedIn profile was filled with eulogies from many other employees, and people talked about work-life balance by tagging her in the posts. But nothing could change the truth that she'd killed herself.
        I left Gurugram and found another job in the next two months.

The End