Behind the broken key...

You may be single and happy, but have you through of your worst nightmare when you returned home from work? Seeing your house door broken and rooms ransacked or seeing your home up in flames caused by an electrical fault or failure to shut down the kitchen burner? There were days when I would go for a movie after work and came home closer to bed time, but I thanked myself for coming home early. I had no idea what was waiting for me when I left work last evening.

Always in anticipation, but sometimes surprised

Balancing “une baquette tradition”, a bag of groceries and a lunch bag in my right hand, I let my left to search for the house keys in my trouser pocket. It wasn’t that bad as balancing the weight on my right. My left hand quickly grabbed the keys in my trouser pocket and gravitated towards the key hole. What happened then?

I put the key in the hole and turned it anti-clockwise, but the door didn't open and my hand turned free quickly and key bunch came back to me without much struggle. Was someone already inside? And when I examined the key bunch and I noticed that the head of the key was missing. Unlike the French, I didn’t utter the famous curse “merde, merde” or roll my eyes, sigh and curse, but I reacted rationally.

Did the key and the hole have a fight this morning when I locked the door? How did that happen? I never noticed the key getting weak.

I had always anticipated the loss of keys and had kept the second key outside the house in case of emergency, but today the key was on the other side of the door. I had left the spare house keys with a friend who was visiting me for the weekend and he had left the spare key in the house and locked behind him before he boarded the flight this afternoon. This was just a coincidence and there was no reason for self flagellation!

Welcome to metros like ParisTo be honest, conversation with my neighbor to my left has never gone beyond bonjour and bonne soiree and the neighbor to my right never even bothered to respond back whenever I greeted him. And this is also not a country or society where I can knock on the neighbor’s door for help or go to a friend's place to crash for the night. And we hadn’t built trust to leave my spare keys with my neighbors or take their mobile number in case of emergency.

Since the spare key was inside there was no point in calling the rental agency. The opportunity cost associated with calling the emergency services to enter the house and replacing the broken lock and door was more than making a copy of the key or taking a room outside for the night.

We live in a world where we speak to unknown people on Social media, while we act complete strangers to our own neighbors.

With drizzle growing bigger, I opened the umbrella and ran towards the "La Cles Place" near my home. I may not know my neighbors, but I know my neighborhood well enough.

Will I get help?

To my surprise and disappointment, the store was closed. Feeling helpless, I went into another store to enquire about any key copying store in the neighborhood. And when I noticed one of the men in the store of Indian origin, I felt luck was smiling my way. Are Indians outside of India helpful too? I decided to test this hypothesis.  

To be honest, I didn't expect much help since I was going to speak to them in English and I was surprised when the shopkeeper responded in English that could lead me nowhere. When I asked him if he knew of any other store in the neighborhood, he shook his head that clearly meant No (not the Indian way) and pointed me at the clock that was racing past 7pm. I leave you to decide the answer to the question I put forward in the last paragraph.

The search begins

The rational mind was searching for a solution and thinking of plan B, while the superstitious mind prayed to almighty for help and was busy connecting the unwanted dots - bad omen and my mistakes from the day. I snapped at my mind like the angry key hole did to the key, and with the minute and hour hand pointing beyond 7.30pm, my eyes and legs rushed back in the street ahead of my body.

I came across restaurants and hotel in my area, but not a key store. My eyes continued to wander from left to right looking for a key store, while my mind was trying to put together a sentence in French to explain to situation to the key maker. Even if I find a store, will they be able to make a copy of a broken key was the only question that lingered in my mind?

Spotting no store in the vicinity, I almost decided to take a room in a nearby hotel for the night and I convinced myself to go back to work in the same clothes the next day. 

A comme ci comme ça reaction

Though I could have called a few friends for help or asked for suggestions, I still felt I need to walk down the road and exhaust all options.

And finally to my surprise in one of the side streets that I’ve never visited before, I spotted a store with a glowing red key signage on the facade. I went in and placed key bunch on the table and waited for the storekeeper's reaction. While I felt relieved, his reaction didn't let mine last long.

 

Lowering his spectacles he examined the broken pieces, but his confidence instantly dropped when he saw the two pieces – almost a comme ci comme ça reaction. He took the pieces to the machining table and I spent the next few minutes surveying the store. I thanked my stars when I saw the opening and closing hours for the store. I was 20 mins away from closing. Phew!

A few minutes later he asked me to come to the machining equipment where showed me his craftsmanship in putting together the two pieces, but promised no guarantee on the copy. 

 

Merci beaucoup
While machining the toothless key, he asked me if I am living in Paris or visiting and also asked me if I were from Pakistan. Since the Indian man in the earlier store hadn’t helped me I didn’t know if I should pretend and try the Pakistani luck. In the hindsight I thought this may be the reason why my neighbors never said much to me. But this man seemed very friendly.

 

With no reason to lie, I confidently I replied in French - J'habite á Oberkampf et je suis Indien. Charging 5 euros for the keys he handed back the key bunch along with the copy.

 

Did it work?

The drizzle had subsided and I rushed back home with a bag of grocery and half remaining “une baguette tradition”. If I had to come back for alterations, there was 15 minutes more to store closing.

When I got back home I found that the copy worked smoother than the original and without any doubt I attributed it to the smartness of the copier. That night what kept lingering in my mind was the key makers question if I am a Pakistani. I realized that there was nothing wrong with a look alike as long as it served the purpose and worked better than the original.

Paris Metro Chronicles

The last time I was showered with a racial slur was post 9/11 in the US and I was walking back from the business school in downtown Providence in the evening. And after 13 years I went through racial slur in Paris today. At 25 I was threatened to fight back, but today, 13 years later I was proud to have fought back.

I was on line 3 on the Paris metro this morning traveling from Parmentier to Republique. As soon as I got in the carriage, a white man sitting by the door started to mumble in French and kept starring at me. I dismissed his mumble and stare and tried to look away. I gave him the benefit of doubt: mentally unwell. But soon the intimidation turned vulgar when he placed his middle finger on his cheek. Annoyed by his behavior (stare, mumble and finger pointing) I decided to question him than move away.

Intimidated by my standing up, he continued to mumble in French with a hope that I would leave. I threatened to call the police, but the threat didn't seem to work and he continued to mumble and utter racial slurs. 

While I raised my voice questioning his behavior the half-a-dozen co-passengers turned silent and attentive. None came up to my support and watched as if it was a free entertainment. I call this behavior the urban indifference, where people rarely stand up against crimes and social evils. We may think the Western Civilization is more responsible, concerned and participative, but in reality they are selfish and self-centered and will let any crime go unquestioned in the interest of their safety and security. And finally, I flexed my muscles and threatened to break his facial bones and threw him out of the metro, if he didn't stop his bullying. The crowd in the compartment watched me standup for myself. 

As the train reached Republique I kept an eye on the man and I was even prepared to face knives and guns and even clobber him and pin him down to the floor, if needed. I wanted to teach a lesson to the man and unconcerned co-passengers. Before the door opened, I raised my voice and thanked the co-passengers for their help and asked them to atleast stand up for themselves, if not for others. Defending your safety and self-respect is not violence! 

Such crimes may happen in your city, but never turn blind eye to such incidences and let bullies get away. Stand-up against crimes that you witness in your community and remember, what goes around comes around.