Every Life Is Important...

If you live in India's IT capital, the smoke that tries to choke you and stain your skin must be familiar. In fact, the familiarity may well have become a shroud on your awareness of and reaction to the smoke, much like the blinds drawn on the stars in the city's night sky. A particular billow, though, has grimed our memories and causes us to panic in passing, every now and then: the one from the Carlton Towers blaze.

In the days immediately after the blaze, I remember worrying about a fire breaking out in my workplace, located on the seventh floor of a building that housed a mall in its first four floors, including a food court in the fourth. The grim humor that joined my colleagues and me at lunch and tea, and rolled into conversations with friends was proof that the worry was endemic to elevated office spaces. Responsibly enough, companies began having fire drills, enabling employees to experience the evacuation endeavors in place to counter an emergency. 

The alarms were sounded, the fire escapes unlocked, and the volunteers led employees towards the exits and down the stairs to the safe zones on the premises. It was a dress rehearsal, and the volunteers practised their lines too: "Be calm and walk down the stairs. Do not run, panic or shove one another." This was in addition to the PA system commanding everyone to "Evacuate the building immediately. Leave behind bags and other possessions. Do not use the elevators."

But, a dress rehearsal has its limitations. Remember the speech you articulated so well in front of the mirror and among your close pals, only to stammer and flounder your way through it on stage because you began feeling nerves you previously didn't know you had? The panic of an emergency is even more dormant and beyond access for activation than stage fright. The alerts issued when Pearl Harbor was attacked by Japanese forces irrefutably indicate the efficacy, or lack thereof, of drills. The alerts, seeking to animate the defensive units, emphasized "this is not a drill!"

Well before the fire drill, we had received an email intimation that inoculated us against crumbling into chaos. Everyone walked down the stairs in peace, chatting with colleagues or speaking into their phones. Some even brought along cups of coffee.

Yet, to be sure, I'm not questioning the utility of a drill. I'm sure the panic can be mathematically factored in to balance the equation and draw a reasonable estimation of the efficiency of the response in the critical first few minutes after the alarm, and identify the scope for improvement. 

A few days ago, a similar drill was organized at my current workplace. We calmly cruised through the exercise. But, something caught my attention - the last bit of the aforementioned PA announcement about not using elevators and climbing down the stairs being the only available mode of escape. The expert who had arrived to instruct the volunteers repeatedly said "every life is important," focusing my attention further.

Many of our present day companies are equal opportunity employers, who have on their payrolls individuals challenged physically. And there is always the possibility of a temporary reduction of one's physical capacities, as in the case of an employee with a fractured leg who continues to crutch his organizations activities aided by a crutch, or the pregnant lady who still continues to pull her load of responsibilities. In keeping with their ideal of making the workplace suitable for employees coping with such challenges, the companies do build/lease modern facilities that have ramps alongside the short, often ornamental, flights of stairs at the entrances, and ensure the flooring is even and deprived of thresholds. Yet, what truly makes the office space friendly for these employees, even when their cubicles are off the ground by a few floors, is the fleet of elevators.

The fire exits did not have ramps. And the elevators were off limits. Every life is important, isn't it?