The Man Who Could Not Speak

First, they took the man who could not speak. 

Everyone in the office knew him, but the only thing anyone knew about him was that he could not speak. 

He sat in the corner cubicle. He arrived at nine in the morning every day, kept his briefcase beside his chair, sat down at his workstation, and began his work. He was with the accounting department. I worked in marketing, so we only crossed paths when I walked over from the elevator to my place in the morning, and when I walked from my place to the elevator in the evening. He was one of the last ones to leave. 

He always nodded at me when I passed by him. He nodded at anyone who did. If we smiled at him, he returned the smile. But I had been told since my first day he could not speak, so I never tried to engage in a conversation with him. Nor did anyone else. He was an enigmatic soul, but he was never found wearing a frown on his face. One assumed he did not have any troubles in his life, for if he did, he would have spoken out. 

One day, four strange men in uniform stepped out of the elevator and walked into our office. All of us looked up from our work. They walked with purpose. “We have come to take you away, sir,” they said. 

The man who could not speak got up and looked around. No one came ahead to enquire why the men were taking him away, or where to. They were in uniform. They must have been right. 

They put handcuffs on him, dragged him by the arm, and led him to the elevator once more. The door - which had been kept open by the liftman - closed as soon as they entered with the apprehended man. 

Any queries about the state of the man who could not speak were left unspoken. Work came before anything else, and everyone worked. In the evening, I submitted the files I needed to, sent the mails I needed to, and left work as I needed to. 

I pressed the elevator button. A few seconds later, the door opened, and the liftman sat where he always did. He was a good man. We always spoke when we met. It turned out we supported the same sports team – on the days they won, we shared our joy, and on the days they lost, we shared our grief. 

On this particular day, I asked him - “Why did they take away the man who cannot speak?” 

He looked at me and shrugged. He had no better response. “They were in uniform,” he said. “They are always right.” 

I nodded. 

When I returned to office the next day, most people had begun working already. I instinctively looked at the cubicle of the man who could not speak. It was empty. In the comfort of my home the previous evening, I had ceased to think about the man - it was my own time, which I did not want to spend thinking about others. After all the work I did in the day, I felt I had earned a respite every once in a while. 

I sat down at my desk and continued working. In the lunch break, I heard the rumours - he had made a post on social media against the armed forces. 

Of course he needed to be arrested, one of the people engaging in the discussion spoke out loud. One cannot question the armed forces. 

Of course he needed to be arrested, another person in the discussion said out loud. One should not question those in uniform - they are serving us, which grants them immunity from complaints the greedy and selfish people in the country might have. 

Of course he needed to be arrested, the third person who listened to the two of them said out loud. When he gave no reason of his own, he was asked for one by an onlooker. “I just know he needed to be arrested,” he said. Everyone else at the table nodded - he had said the right thing, which meant no explanation was required. 

It was at three in the afternoon when the four strange men visited us again. They were in their uniform once more - it made one wonder if there ever was a time they were not in it. The fear of not being right for doing the same things they did while in uniform must have bothered them. But once more, I told myself it was futile to think about anything which would not bring me money or happiness. 

They went up to the cubicle of the Woman. She was the only one of us who belonged to her gender. Our office did not have females. It was an unspoken assumption our office did not care to accommodate them. 

They cuffed her, held her by her arms, and led her towards the elevator. We all looked up from our work for a minute or two to see the entire incident. She looked at the ones she thought would say something. But everyone hid in their cubicles. Once she was taken away, everyone resumed work. I did not know her, except for her status as the only woman who had made it to our office. By the time evening came around, she slipped out from the back of my mind. 

It was only during lunch the next day that I heard the rumours once more. Apparently, she made a comment about the status of women in the industry on social media. 

Of course she needed to be arrested, one of the men said again. She spoke out against her peers; it cannot be tolerated. 

Of course she needed to be arrested, the second man said. She spoke for women, and women were not supposed to speak in this world. 

Of course she needed to be arrested, the third man said. When he gave no reason for this, he was asked for one by one of the other people listening to them. The man responded - “People in uniform did it. They must be right.” 

Everyone nodded at this comment, and continued with their work. Over the weeks to come, the strange men would come every day. They would cuff one of our colleagues and go away. We would look at what was happening, yet we were all blind. On the day after, people would discuss why they had been arrested. Someone spoke out against manual scavenging; someone made an unappreciated comment about the lack of labour rights; someone thought it would be safe to type out what he thought about politics. Once lunch was over, people would return to their work, when the strange men would inevitably come to take another. 

Months passed like this, even though the only time I ever looked at the calendar was when I needed to remind myself when a deadline was approaching. 

One day, I was drinking by myself, and decided the work left to do at home was minimal. A drink led to another. I was not a habituated drinker - after the first few glasses, I did not remember what happened. 

The feeling of a hangover persisted over the weekend, even though I was healthy enough to attend to the calls which came from the office. 

When I returned to the office, I walked up to my desk and sat down for work. It was a normal day in the life. But it was after lunch when the strange men visited along with their uniforms. I looked up from my work for a moment, and then a further one when they seemed to be walking towards me. “We have to come take you away sir,” they said. They asked me to stand up, put cuffs on my hands, and pulled me along my arm. I looked around like all others, to see someone stand up for the unjust happenings. But when I looked around, I realised the entire office was empty - no one except me had remained. 

We walked into the elevator, and the door closed behind us. I looked at the liftman. He did not look back at me. There was no need to, he would have thought, for the men in uniform must be right. In a minute, we were on the ground floor. The door opened, and we walked out. I asked one of them why I had been arrested. “You posted on social media about the need for freedom of speech. You have been found guilty and will be punished appropriately.” 

They pushed me into their van. We drove past familiar streets, and stopped in front of an unfamiliar building. It was a detention center. They did not ask me to step out - they pulled me out, and pushed me through the only entrance. It was guarded by men in similar uniform. 

No further explanation was given to me, for once one was on this side of the wall, one lost the right to any. They took away whatever I had on my body, gave me the only set of clothes I would wear from now on, and led me down the corridor. 

I looked to my left, then I looked to my right. Everywhere, I found my fellow colleagues. All of them looked at me, but none of them spoke. 

The guard made me stop in front of the last holding cell. He unlocked the gate, pushed me in, and closed it behind me. A familiar face was in the cell along with me - the man who could not speak. He looked at me, but now, he neither nodded at me nor smiled. 

I stood there for a few moments. I had been deemed worthy of this punishment. I would have to learn to live with it. After all, the men in uniform must be right. 

I sat down beside the man who could not speak. “I got drunk and made a post about freedom of speech. Wouldn’t have dared to do so while I was sober. I guess we’re all in here because it’s what we deserve.” I spoke to myself more than I spoke to him. Yet, I thought I saw the slightest of nods from him. 

Then, I heard him speak for the first time. “I am the man who cannot speak,” he said. “I wish I had also remained the man who did not speak.”