Control Room

Sana

Noida ke Sector 62 wale BPO tower ka glass facade raat mein aur bhi seedha lagta tha. Jaise building bhi kisi ko dekh kar sorry nahi bolti. Din mein bahar ka shor—cab horns, chai ki tapri, thela, office smoke, security guard ki sitti—iss tower ko insaan banaye rakhta tha. Raat ko bas AC ka sookha sa hummm, keyboards ki tik-tik, aur monitors pe green-blue light.

Main jab lift se chhatti manzil pe aati thi na, toh ek second ke liye lagta tha ki main apni zindagi se bahar nikal aayi hoon. Yahan logon ke din numbers mein bade hote the aur raat calls mein chhote. Apology. Hold. Resolution. Repeat.

Mera naam Sana hai. Main 32 ki hoon. Is floor ki manager.

Manager bolne mein achha lagta hai. Reality mein main woh insaan hoon jo sabke beech phansa rehta hai—upar VP ka pressure, neeche team ka fatigue, aur ghar pe ek aisa aadmi jo mere saath rehta hai par kabhi mere din ka hissa nahi banta.

Us raat bhi main control room ke glass mein apna reflection dekh rahi thi. Ponytail tight, lipstick ka naam tak nahi, under-eyes kaafi dark. Shirt ka top button ek baar phir khul gaya tha. Main professional dikh rahi thi. Andar se bas thaki hui thi. Bahut thaki hui.

Desk ke corner pe mera lunch dabba pada tha—subah se untouched. Rajma ki smell ab thandi ho chuki thi, par lid kholte hi ek familiar sa ghutan sa uthta tha. Ghar ka khana office mein aur office ka pressure ghar mein. Kabhi kabhi lagta tha mere din ka sabse personal part bhi ek container mein band hai.

“Ma’am, escalation line live hai,” Ankit ne kaha.

“Patch karo. Client deck open rakho,” maine bola.

“Ji.”

Floor pe us waqt alag hi tanav tha. Audit week tha. Client ka senior team aane wala tha, aur unke saath VP bhi. Audit ka matlab yahan bas ek hi cheez hota tha—smile karo, panic mat dikhao, aur jis cheez mein problem ho usko problem mat bolo.

Mera phone blink hua.

Mr. Malhotra calling.

Maine screen dekhi aur ek second ke liye aankh band ki. Kabhi-kabhi lagta tha office aur ghar do alag jagah nahi, ek hi torture ka extended version hain. Bas furniture change hota hai.

“Hello,” mainne normal awaaz mein kaha.

“Tum abhi bhi office mein ho?” uski tone mein pyaar nahi, complaint thi.

“Night shift hai.”

“Hmm.” Ek pause. “Kal electrician aa raha hai. Bulb fuse hai. Aur dinner ke liye kuch order kar dena.”

Mainne almost hans diya. Order kar dena jaise fridge mein koi invisible maid baithi ho.

“Okay,” mainne kaha.

“Bas, okay?”

Mainne kaise samjhaun ki pichhle do din se main neend ke tukdon pe chal rahi hoon. Ki mujhe koi ek normal si baat bol de toh main shayad sink ke paas baith jaaun. Ki mujhe ghar mein bhi koi aisa insaan chahiye jo mujhe “manage” karne wala project na samjhe.

Par maine bas itna bola, “Haan. Bas okay.”

Usne call cut kar diya.

Mainne phone neeche rakha aur apne jaw ko tight kiya. Abhi feelings ka waqt nahi tha. Yahan time sirf escalations ka tha.

VP ka call 11:40 pe aaya.

“Good evening, Sana.”

“Good evening, sir.”

Uski awaaz mein hamesha polished impatience hoti thi. Jaise uska dimag already kisi aur boardroom mein baitha ho.

“Client audit Friday ko hai. Mujhe koi surprise nahi chahiye. Last three weeks performance down hai.”

“Sir, hum stabilize kar rahe hain. Aaj ka live queue better hai.”

“Better is not enough.” Pause. “I need a clean story. Weak links identify karo. Agar kisi ek agent ki wajah se numbers drag ho rahe hain, cut the dead weight.”

Maine chair ka armrest pakad liya. “Sir, coaching se—”

“Coaching ka time khatam. Sana, this is business. Client ko sympathy nahi chahiye.”

“Understood,” mainne kaha.

Call cut hua.

Mainne monitor ki taraf dekha, par screen blur si lag rahi thi. Dead weight. Weak link. Business. Un logon ke liye yeh sirf words the. Mere liye actual log.

Rohit corner mein baitha tha. 24 ka, patla sa, hamesha thoda sa jhuka hua. Uski ungliyan baar-baar daanton ke paas jaati thi aur skin ko khurach deti thi jab tak red na ho jaye. Aisa lagta tha jaise uske haath uske dimaag se pehle ghabra jaate hon.

Kajal uske opposite desk pe thi. 23 ki, crisp voice, perfect hold time, perfect empathy line. Uske calls pe customers gussa karke bhi soft ho jaate the. QA usse pyaar karta tha. VP uska naam lete hi satisfied hota tha.

Dono ek hi team mein, do alag duniya.

“Rohit, after this call, see me,” mainne bola.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Kajal ne ek second ke liye nazar uthaayi. “Ma’am, updated tracker?”

“Peechhe bhej do.”

Main floor walk pe nikli. Rehearsed calm. Manager ka mask.

Rohit ka call khatam hua toh woh immediately chair mein thoda collapse ho gaya. Main uske desk ke paas ruki.

“Side mein aao,” mainne kaha.

Server room ke bahar corridor mein hum khade the. Wahan AC kam chalti thi, isliye hawa mein machine aur dust dono ka smell tha.

“Batao,” mainne poocha, “aaj phir kya hua?”

Usne shoulder uthaya. “Customer bola main time waste kar raha hoon. Maine hold pe dala toh aur gussa ho gaya. Phir main wrong tab pe click kar gaya.”

“Again.”

“Haan.”

“Script yaad hai?”

“Yaad hai.”

“Phir issue kya hai?”

Woh ek second chup raha. “Main ghabra jaata hoon.”

“Sab ghabraate hain.”

Usne bina emotion ke ek chhota sa smile diya. “Aap nahi ghabraati, ma’am.”

Mainne usko dekha. Itna young, aur face pe itni thakan.

“Main bhi ghabraati hoon,” mainne bol diya.

Woh surprise hua.

“Par dikhaati nahi,” mainne add kiya.

Woh ek dry sa hansa. “Mere ghar pe sab bolte hain main bas slow hoon. Yahan bhi wahi lagta hoga.”

Uske bolne mein sharm thi. Woh sharm jo aadmi ko bolne se zyada chup rehne mein majboor karti hai.

“Lazy aur broken mein fark hota hai,” mainne dheere se kaha.

Woh kuch nahi bola.