Midnight Shift, Broken Trust

Hyderabad ki raat aur call centre ka floor—dono mein ek ajeeb sa rishta hota hai. Bahar road pe traffic kam ho jaata hai, par andar AC ki thandi hawa, headsets ki halki static, aur coffee machine ki bechain si beep zindagi ko aur fast kar deti hai. Sana Ali ko ye routine achha lagta tha, kyunki raat ke shift mein kam se kam log usse judge nahi karte the. Na ghar ke taane, na society ke sawaal—sirf calls, targets, aur ek aisa silence jismein woh apne aap ko sambhal sakti thi.

Sana 28 ki thi, practical bhi, calm bhi, aur andar se utni hi thaki hui jitni har middle-class ladki hoti hai jo apne ghar ka pressure aur apne sapne dono ek saath uthaye phirti hai. Ghar mein maa ki medicines, chhote bhai ki coaching fees, aur husband ke saath shared expenses—sab kuch ek spreadsheet jaisa tha, jismein har month negative balance ka darr laga rehta tha. Phir bhi Sana muskura kar bol deti, “Ho jayega yaar, manage kar lenge.” Uske liye manage karna sirf financial word nahi tha, survival ka naam tha.

Imran Khan usi floor pe senior colleague tha—30 ka, smart, smooth-talker, aur aisa banda jo teen minute mein kisi ka bhi mood set kar de. Agar floor pe koi call bigad rahi ho, toh Imran bas headset side mein karke bolta, “Chill karo, main dekh leta hoon.” Agar kisi ko break extend karni ho, toh woh aise cover karta jaise office ka unofficial saviour ho. Sana aur Imran ki pairing toh floor pe famous thi. Log bolte the, “Arre yeh dono toh husband-wife jaisi team hain.” Sana hans deti, Imran bhi grin karta, aur dono ko lagta ki shayad office mein ek genuine friendship mil gayi hai.

Unki bond ki asli wajah sirf work chemistry nahi thi. Dono ke ghar ka pressure bhi match karta tha. Sana ka husband ek private job mein tha, theek-thaak kama leta tha, par uski salary month ke end tak hawa ho jaati thi. Woh bura nahi tha, bas helpless tha—har baar bolta, “Main try kar raha hoon na, Sana.” Par try aur action ke beech jo gap hota hai, woh Sana hi fill karti thi. Uska husband ghar ki family se conflict avoid karta, aur Sana ke shoulders pe extra burden quietly shift hota rehta.

Imran ki kahani bhi kuch alag nahi thi. Ghar mein wife aur in-laws ka ek hi dialogue repeat hota tha—“Itni salary mein kya hoga?” “Kab tak rent pe rahoge?” “Dusron ke bachche gaadi laa rahe hain, tum abhi bhi same job?” Imran har baar smile karke bol deta, “Bas thoda aur time do.” Par andar se woh crack ho raha tha. EMI ka pressure, bachchon ke school bills, aur family ki constant comparison wali toxicity uske dimaag mein aag jaisi jalti rehti thi.

Night shift ke beech dono chai pe milte, toh life thodi kam heavy lagti. Sana apni bottle se paani peeti aur bolti, “Yaar, kabhi-kabhi lagta hai hum log bas targets ke liye hi paida hue hain.” Imran hansi mein jawab deta, “Nahi bro, hum log toh emergency management ke liye paida hue hain.” Dono has dete. Aise moments mein lagta tha ki shayad duniya ka pressure sirf bahar hai, andar nahi.

Phir ek raat, jab floor pe unusually slow calls aa rahi thi aur manager meeting mein tha, Imran ne Sana ko side mein bulaya. Uske chehre pe woh usual confidence nahi tha. Aankhon mein thakaan thi, aur voice mein ek aisi urgency jo pehle kabhi nahi suni gayi thi. “Sana, ek kaam karna hai,” usne dheere se kaha. “Bas temporary jugad hai. Kuch log karte hain. System ka hi game hai.”

Sana ne eyebrow raise ki. “Kaunsa kaam?”

Imran ne around dekh kar headset halka sa uthaaya, jaise koi secret share kar raha ho. “Attendance aur call disposition mein thoda adjustment. Bas itna ki pending targets clean dikh jaayein. Audit abhi next week hai, aur agar numbers theek nahi hue toh bonus gaya. Samjhi? Main handle kar lunga.”

Sana ka instinct pehle hi bol gaya tha ki kuch gadbad hai. “Imran, yeh risky hai,” usne calmly bola. “Agar pakde gaye toh?”

Imran ne turant emotional angle pakad liya. “Pakde gaye toh system blame hoga. Aur honestly, yeh koi crime nahi hai. Bas ek shortcut hai. Dekh Sana, ghar ka pressure kaise hatega? Aaj nahi toh kal, humein kuch smart karna padega na.” Phir usne thoda aur soft ho kar kaha, “Main tujhe phasne nahi dunga. Trust me.”

Trust me.

Ye do words Sana ke liye hamesha se heavy nahi the. Shayad isi liye usne thoda pause liya, phir haan mein sir hila diya. Usne actual mein koi huge fraud nahi kiya—bas ek small part mein help ki, thinking it was reversible, harmless, and temporary. Usne socha, Imran senior hai, woh jaanta hoga. Aur waise bhi, office mein log kabhi-kabhi chhoti moti jugad kar hi lete hain. Bas yahi ek thought tha jo usne apne conscience ko chup karne ke liye use kiya.

Do din tak sab normal raha. Imran aur zyada cheerful ho gaya, jaise usne koi burden utar diya ho. Sana ko bhi laga ki shayad usne overthink kiya tha. Par call centre mein “normal” zyada der tikta nahi. Audit week aate hi system logs, timestamps, disposition entries, aur call records ka pattern ekdum suspicious lagne laga. Internal audit manager, jo hamesha sharp-eyed aur procedure-driven tha, ne ek baar data dekha aur seedha bola, “Ye pattern human error jaisa nahi lag raha. This looks manipulated.”

Floor pe hawa tight ho gayi. Log whisper karne lage. Team lead ne Sana aur Imran dono ko cabin mein bulaya. Sana ka heart ekdum se heavy ho gaya, kyunki usko pehli baar real fear feel hua—job ka, image ka, aur is baat ka ki usne kisi par bharosa kiya tha jahan nahi karna chahiye tha.

“Who approved these entries?” audit manager ne seedha poocha.

Imran pehle toh confident bana raha. “Sir, maybe system glitch hua hoga. We were overloaded that night.”