The Lift of Life

A Story by Manish Bhatt

The day had finally come to an end. 7 ‘o’ clock.

I picked up my bag and made way for the lift. The artificial lights in the lobby area obliviated the traffic outside. I scrunched my eyes to see outside. Flickering orange lights moving to and fro. I pressed the down button for the lift. The red circle with the downward arrow lit up. And the medium sized rectangle at the top showed 16. I was on the 13^th floor.

<a long time passes>

The doors open and the lift is almost full. And there is a weird congruence to the arrangement inside. The youngest and tallest at the back. Slightly older and slightly shorter ahead of them. More slightly older and more slightly shorter ahead of them. And the fourth row had even more slightly older and even more slightly shorter ahead of them at the corners of the what was the fourth row. I looked at them and then myself, I fitted perfectly.

I took my rightful place inside the lift.

The doors opened and 35-something on the phone looking sideways turned around and started to get in before realizing that it was full. An expletive and he stopped. Giggles from whoever was on the other end of that call. His attention went back fully to his call and the doors closed.

The doors opened and a 40-something peered into the completed filled lift with tired eyes. He sighed in a way that expressed his disappointment and his acceptance of it together. His face contorted as if dreading the wait again as the doors closed.

The doors opened and 45-something trying to manage his three bags �" laptop bag, lunch bag and a bag whose purpose I couldn’t discern. He looked up at the completely filled lift and gave an all-knowing smile. I think it was directed to the uneasiness being felt by the people inside the lift out of a presumptive gift of making people wait. The doors closed.

The doors opened and 50-something with bowed shoulders patiently looking towards the lift doors in a stoic manner continued to do so. No change in expression. Just rhythmically blinking eyes. As he adjusted the strap of his bag on his right shoulder, the doors closed.

The doors opened and 55-something with drooping eyelids, possibly because of an overdrawn day, whispered something to herself. She knew something instinctively and made way for the sofa. As she sat down, the doors closed.

The doors opened and 60-something just looked at us. The look devoid of anything. And shiver ran through all of us. We couldn’t wait enough for the doors to close. But thankfully they did.

Only parking levels remained. No more waiting for anyone just getting down.

Mercifully so. I think we all were drained of our energy, whatever was left. We felt old. We felt terrible.

As the lift eventually reached the ground floor and I got out, I felt the dreariness end somewhat. But it seemed a lifetime had passed since the 13^th floor.