There were four peons in my office, and one of them was named
Gharib. He was really simple, very obedient, deft in his job, silent even when
rebuked. True to his name, he was a poor, humble fellow. It had been about a
year since I came to this office, and I had never seen him miss a day at work.
I was so used to seeing him sitting on his torn down mat every morning at nine,
that it seemed he was a part of the building. He was so nice that he did not
refuse anyone anything. Another peon was a Muslim. The whole office was afraid
of him; I am not sure why. In my opinion, the only reason for this was his
boastfulness. He claimed his cousin was a Qazi in the state of Rampur, and
his uncle was a police chief in the state of Tonk. He had unanimously been
given the title of 'Qazi Sahib' . The other two gentlemen were Brahmins by
caste. Just their blessings were a lot more valuable than their work. All three
were shirkers, arrogant, and lazy. Ask them to do a small chore and they would
not do it without making a fuss. They wouldn’t think anything at all of the
clerks. They were a little afraid of the office manager, though they would
sometimes disrespect even him. Even after so many bad qualities, no one in the
office had such a bad standing as poor Gharib did. When it was appraisal time,
the other three would get the high grades, and nobody would even care about
Gharib. While everyone else was paid ten rupees each, Gharib was stuck at
seven. He would not rest for even a minute from morning till evening. Even the
three peons would order him around, and the poor man would have no share in
their tips and bribes. On top of that everyone from the employees to the
manager were miffed with him. He had been complained against so many times,
fined a number of times, and getting rebuked and reprimanded was a daily
occurrence with him. I just didn’t understand the secret of all this. I pitied
him and I wanted to show with my treatment of him that in my eyes he had no
less respect than the other three peons. I had even argued with other employees
for him so many times.
2
One day, the manager asked Gharib to clean his table, which
he started to do right away. Coincidentally, the duster hit the inkpot, which
fell down; and the ink spilled onto the table. The manager saw this and got
infuriated. He caught him by his ears and twisted them and started swearing at
him with choicest profanities from all of India’s known languages. Poor Gharib
kept listening with tears in his eyes and standing like a statue, as if he had
committed a murder. I felt so bad about the manager’s pugnacious attitude over
such a trivial matter. If another peon had committed even a bigger crime, he
would not have been struck with such a fierce reprimand. I said to him in
English, “Sir, you are being unjust. He did not spill the ink on purpose.
Punishing him so severely is the height of impropriety.”
The manager said humbly, “You don’t know him. He is a
scoundrel.”
“I don’t see any evil in him.”
“You haven’t known him yet. He is a rogue. His household
farms with two bullocks. His dealings are in thousands of rupees, and he owns a
number of buffalos. These are the things that he is arrogant about.”
“If he were so well off, why would he work as a peon in your
office?”
“Trust me, he is really hard-shelled, and extremely stingy on
top of that.”
“Well, even if he is, I don’t think it is a crime.”
“Mister, you don’t understand these things. Spend some more
time here and you will figure out what kind of a rascal he is.”
Another gentleman spoke up, “Sir, his household produces
maunds of milk and curds, maunds of peas, millet and gram, but he never even
thinks of giving something to people at the office. We always yearn for such
stuff here. So, why wouldn’t we be angry? He has got all this after he got
employment here. He didn’t own a grain before that.”
The manager seemed embarrassed. He said, “That is not an
issue. He owns all this, so it doesn’t matter if he shares it or not. But even
otherwise, he is an animal.”
I started to get a gist of the matter. I said, “If he is such
a mean hearted person, then he is really an animal. I didn’t know all this.”
Now the manager also opened up. He said, “Not that such gifts
make anyone rich; it just goes to show the magnanimity of the giver. Moreover,
you come to have expectations from those who are worthy. If someone is
incapable, nobody expects anything from him. Who would take from an unclothed
person?”
The secret was out. The manager had explained the whole
situation in simple words. Everyone is an enemy of others’ prosperity; not just
the little man, even a rich person is. If our relatives are poor, we don’t
expect anything from them. More likely, we just forget about them. But if they
are well-healed and don’t care about us, or don’t send us gifts on festivals,
we become green with envy. If we visit an impoverished friend, we are happy
getting served with just a mouthful of paan[3], but which person wouldn’t curse
and forever hate a well-to-do friend after returning unfed from the friend's
house. If Sudama[4] had returned dissatisfied from Krishna’s home, he would
perhaps have become his worst enemy – worse than Shishupal and Jarasandh were.
This is human nature.
3
A few days later I asked Gharib, “Why dear, do you have any
farming business at home?”
Gharib said in a humble tone, “Yes, master, I do. We have a
couple of servants. They are the ones who do the work.”
“Do you own cows and buffalos too?”
“Yes, sir, there are two buffalos. It’s just that the cows
are not pregnant yet. Sir, it is people’s benevolence that helps us make our
ends meet.”
“Do you ever give treats to the clerks at the office too?”
Gharib said with utmost modesty, “Sir, how can I give treats
to the masters? What else do I get in my farming besides barley, gram, maize or
millet? You people are like kings; how dare I present these crude things to
you? My heart fears at the prospect of getting censured, for how did a man
worth a penny dare such. This is why sir, I don’t dare. Otherwise, what would
some milk and curd have been worth? A present should be worthy of the
receiver.”
“I say why don’t you try and give them something someday, and
see what they say. In the city, people don’t get such things. These people
sometimes get tempted by small things.”
“And master, what if someone says something? What if someone
complains to the office manager and I won’t be worth anything.”
“I take responsibility for that; nobody will say anything. If
anyone does, I will explain it to them.”
“Right, sir. These days peas are being harvested. Grams are
getting green, and even the sugarcane squeezer is up and ready. There is
nothing else besides this.”
“So, just get them these things.”
“Yes sir, as I said, I will see what I can do.”
Next day when Gharib came, there were three well-built youths
with him. On the heads of two of them were baskets, which were full of pea
pods. On the head of the third was a pitcher full of sugarcane juice. All three
had sugarcane bundles under their arms. Gharib came and quietly stood under a
tree in front of the verandah. He wasn’t able to summon the courage to come
into the office, as if he was a criminal. Just then, the peons and other
employees of the office surrounded him. One started munching on a sugarcane
stick, while others jumped upon the baskets. It was a free for all. In the
meantime, the office manager reached the office. He saw the spectacle and said
in a loud voice, “What is this crowding about? Go and do your work, each of
you.”
I went and whispered into his ear, “Gharib has brought gifts
from his home. Take some for yourself, and distribute some among these people.”
The office head feigned anger, “Gharib, why did you bring
these things here? Take these things back, or I will report this to the higher
ups. Do you think we are fools?”
All color left Gharib’s face. He started trembling. He was
left speechless. He started looking at me with a guilty look in his eyes.
I pleaded on his behalf. After a lot of discussion, the
manager was convinced. He sent half of everything to his own home. The other
half was distributed among others. That was the end of this drama.
4
Now, Gharib started getting popular in the office. Now he
wouldn't get yelled at constantly, wouldn’t have to run around all day. He
wouldn't have to hear the sarcasm of the staffers and the ridicule of his
colleagues. The peons would do his work for him. Even his name underwent a
little change. From Gharib, he became Gharibdas. His character went through a
transformation too. In place of modesty, cockiness took root. Diligence was
replaced by lethargy. Now he would sometimes come late to office, and at other
times pretend sickness and stay home. Now all his transgressions were
pardonable. He had found the key to his respectability. Every week or two, he
would get milk and curds and present it to the office head. He had learnt to
gratify the gods. In place of humility, he had now gained wickedness.
One day, the office manager sent him to the station to claim
a parcel of government forms. There were a number of large bundles of paper,
and were transported on a cart. Gharib negotiated 12 annas as labor with the
cart driver. When the papers reached the office, he obtained 12 annas from the
office head for the cart driver. But when he came out of the office, he changed
his mind. He asked for his cut. The cart driver did not agree. Gharib got angry
and kept all money in his pocket and threatened the cart drivers, “Now you are
not getting a penny. Go and complain where you want to. Let me see what you can
do to me.”
When the cart driver saw that he was going to lose the whole
money if he didn’t give a commission, he was agreed to pay 4 annas to Gharib. Gharib
gave him 8 annas, had him put his thumb impression on a receipt for 12 annas
and submitted the receipt to the office. When I saw this, I was flabbergasted.
This is the same Gharib who, a few months back, was an epitome of simplicity
and humbleness – one who didn’t dare ask the peons for his own share of the
money, who didn't know how to bribe others, not to say of taking a bribe. When
I saw this transformation, I was extremely saddened. Who was responsible for
this? Obviously, it was I who taught him the first lesson of arrogance and
wickedness. A question arose in my mind -- wasn’t the timidity that let him
tolerate injustice from others better than the arrogance with which he tramples
upon others. The moment in which I showed him the path to respectability was a
bad omen, because what I actually showed him was a dangerous path to his
downfall. I sacrificed his self-esteem for his external esteem.
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