Cubes of relief

 Friday word: Ice

Title: Cubes of relief

Ramsingh turned off the compressor which was used to compress low pressure refrigerant vapour to high pressure vapour, and then deliver it to the condenser. The functioning of the condenser was Balwant's zone. He refrained from poking his capabilities into someone else's abilities. It was 5pm and he looked forward to joining his clan for a hot steaming kulhad of tea. Cups were not his cup of tea.  But before that he had to wait so that Balwant does the needful to the compressor so the cube manufacturing unit be closed and the keys duly handed to Thapa, the watchman. Without an exchange of word or glance, Balwant and Ramsingh managed the ice producing unit. There were workers under them who communicated but these two were icy cold to each other. Yet, the marvel was the team functioned smoothly never allowing a cube to melt frivolously. The squeaky sound of the large compressor had died down. Balwant adjusted his blue turban of pride and left the muddy grounds to smell his sarso ka saag and makai ki roti. Ramsingh circled the neck with his glamourous gamcha, picked up the keys handing them over to Thapa and cycled his way to the kulhads. 

Thapa saw the proud men plunge into diverse worlds of diverse cultures yet he remembered there was a time when the turban and gamcha were boon companions. The ice factory celebrated lunch time equally with litti chokha and malai lassi. Balwant and Ramsingh were part of the cold island since its inscription days. They had both joined as 12yr olds when Rajprasad Chaudhari, the founder, had first opened doors for migratory workers. Not friends of fair weather, both boys worked their sweat off to cool the ice. In the day, they sloughed to freeze the ice while at night in the stuffy interiors of the chambers, melted a few cubes in their lotas. Glass was a luxury to their class. Yet happiness was in mass. Years rolled by and both macho men wooed two beautiful choris from the neighborhood cloth factory and life was a bliss. The ice chambers were now vacant at night while heat rose in their respective khatiyas. Occasionally, they did meet at the cooling chambers for a cheers of lota when the brides were away basking in the glory of maika. 

On one such celebration of bachelor's night, Balwant broached upon the sensitive issue of salary hike. 

"Yaara, the pennies with get are not sufficient to even buy chudiyas for our brides," he said while gulping a huge sip of desi. 

"Bilkul correct ho bhaya. My gharwali is also complaining about the same." Ramsingh complemented him by adding another cube to the lota. The cube floated on the desi filled to the brim of the steel mug. 

Both decided to speak to the manager regarding this the next day. Ramsingh wiped a trickle of perspiration with his ghamcha in the air conditioned office of the manager. Balwant adjusting his turban spoke, "Sirji, you know we have been here much before our beard or moustache sprouted. Today as the shaving becomes vigorous, our saving is meagre. We need to support a family and hence insist you support us with a salary hike."

He looked at Ramsingh for a nod of approval but was greeted with disappointment as he stood numb with head low. The manager gave an icy cold look to Balwant and dismissed them saying he would think about it later. Balwant knew the later would never see daylight and he had to urge today itself. He expected Ramsingh to shoulder this plea but again he stood like a body lying in the morgue on ice slab. Why was his best friend tongue tied today? Had he eaten much ice yesterday that today his tongue was numb? 

Balwant was furious, he pushed aside the living mortal and walked out of the cabin. Little did he know, Ramsingh was bribed to keep mum as the night worker who had eavesdropped their last night conservation, had informed the manager. Ramsingh had gone cold while his pockets were hot with sabse bada rupaiya! 

That day onwards, the cold war had begun. But it never dropped the temperatures in the chambers. It only set the heat soaring if at all the eyes met. 

*  *  *   *   *  *   *

28th June 2019, the ice factory opened its doors to the numb hands at work. Ramsingh went about gearing his compressor. A hour later Balwant would begin the functioning of the condenser. But today Balwant felt something literary fishy. He cursed the night workers who when full emptied their bladders in the chambers itself. The trench slowly filled the chambers. Now he was suspicious this was not an urinal olfaction. Workers in the unit started coughing and getting breathless. Heming and hawking sounds came from the compressor chamber. He rushed to see his once upon a time friend and his comrades suffocating. It was the dreadly AMMONIA LEAK! He rushed to the oxygen chamber but realised the safety apparatus wasn't  working. Without wasting a thinking mintue, he pulled a resistant Ramsingh out of the fuming chambers. Immediately he again entered to turn off the valve which had been left open but fainted as ammonia had captured his inflated lungs. 

*  *  *  *  *  *

The monitor beeped signalling Balwant was alive. In a blur, he saw Ramsingh at his bedside. He turned away at the sight of a betrayal. 

"You have full right to frown and be furious with me, Yaara!" Ramsingh mustered remains of the courage he had to speak to Balwant. Past few days as his friend lay in the ICU, he had fought for his compensation rights. Something that was coldy denied to these ice workers. The manager now old but with deceptive tactics had managed to give a clean statement to media citing no causalties. The unit didn't have a renewed licence for past five years. Again, the officials pockets were made hot and the workers were shooed by cold hearts. But Ramsingh was firm this time as he stood in the away of the manager like a frozen slab. There were unhealed frost injuries on his soul of backstabbing his friend. He cared least what the media was told. He only wanted warmth for Balwant and the likes who had suffered due to negligence of cold hands. 

"Yaara, years of working with the ice has turned me cold. They say rightly, your company decides your character. I wish I had inscribed your ideology on my monetarily turned stoic heart.... Today I don't have the guts to say sorry... Today I.. " Balwant wiped his friend's tears of remorse.

"Bhaya, ice when it melts satisfies the thirsty throat. When frozen it dances on the glory drinks of friendship. You know when you were dizzy post inhaling the toxic fumes, this same ice was placed on your bluish lips for hydrations. This ice has saved your life and our friendship. How can it be cold then?"

Both the friends smiled at the irony just expressed. Thapa on seeing the warm bon homie felt guilty of loading the manager's ears that fateful night. The leaking of conscience was more dreadful than that of any chemical, he thought siping his steaming tea from a mud kulhad. Luxury of cups was not necessary. 

Author's note: This fictional story is woven on the real Ammonia leak that happened on 28th June 2019 at an ice factory in Noida.