On Friday, I paid a man 120 rupees to break into my house. I don’t know if that sounds weird or funny or just stupid. But it happened.

I didn’t go to Mumbai this Friday – I had plans to go on a trek over the weekend. So, I came home after office like any other day. I took the 6.00 pm bus, and reached by 6.40 pm. I had to pack some travel stuff and leave that very night around 10 pm.

I arrive at the door, and put the key into the latch. I turn it once, I turn it twice. The double lock is open. I turn it a third time – it doesn’t turn as much as it should. I try again. Same result. I turn it again, and heave against the door. No, it doesn’t budge. Darn. Five more minutes of twisting and turning and pushing. I am completely exasperated. What can be more frustrating than arriving home a fine Friday evening, with great plans for the weekend, and finding that the stupid latch on your door is stuck. It isn’t even my mistake. I have the right key – the original key to the lock, mind you, not even a duplicate. How is it possible?

I realize that it is going to be a long, tiring and troublesome evening.

Next thing to do is to get help from the watchman. He comes, tries a few of his own tricks, but in vain. Next I get the guy in charge of over-all security from the main gate. He tries his luck. He is a bit more physically inclined, and his methods involve generous numbers of kicks on the door. I am not in a mood to object. I join him too. But the latch is stuck for good. Finally we give up, and decide that it calls for greater expertise. He gives me the cell-phone number of some person who he says is the locksmith for the building. I call him up and discover that he is some place far away beyond Pimpri. I beg him to come and attend to the ailing latch on the door of my flat. He says he will make it in thirty minutes. I go out, get some shopping done, and rush back to be in time to receive this person. There are no signs of him. On calling him again, he assures me that he will make it in thirty minutes. I settle down at the gate. I understand his “thirty” minutes terminology now. By the time he arrives at 8.45 pm, I have witnessed a change of shift for the watchmen (a very noisy and quarrelsome affair), a drunkard passing by abusing everybody in sight including a dog, and a game of hide and seek being played by some kids in the building in which one bloke has been blatantly cheating.

The locksmith arrives on bicycle. I quickly welcome him, and take him to the flat. He inspects the mess, and makes it clear before doing anything that it is going to cost me a hundred and twenty rupees. I agree. All I want is to get it over with and get in.

Considering that this guy was a locksmith, my idea is that he would have some clever tricks up his sleeve to get the door open. Maybe some sort of keys or files that would open the latch after a little bit of prodding and twisting. But that is not the case. He is no better than the people before him.

His first attempt is to use a rectangular piece of plastic – from a bottle of mineral water. He slides it up and down the gap between the door and the frame, trying to push back the levers with it and instructs me to jerk the door to and fro. This attempt meets with failure. Out comes a big screwdriver. This is getting pretty direct – yes he is using the same method as the thief who tried to rob our house a few months back. He pushes it into the gap near the latch and pushes against it, using the frame as a fulcrum. The screwdriver bends like a boomerang, but the door does not open. This guy is now very determined. Out comes an even larger screwdriver. He hammers this ferociously into the gap, and pulls with all his might. There! The door opens. Deliverance, at last.

Inside, there is mayhem. Three of the four supporting screws in the latch have come out. We take out the last one. The reason for the failure of the latch is that the knob on the inside to lock the latch in position has been turned. It is a contradiction in terms. If that knob was turned, the door could not possibly have been shut. But for the knob to be turned after the door was shut, somebody had to be inside, which again is impossible. So the mystery remains, and there the matter rests.