The Miller Woman's Well - Part III

Several years passed by.  Harnath kept paying varying amounts towards interest on Gomati's funds to Chaudhary, but evaded repayment of the principal on one pretext or the other .  All attempts by Chaudhary to get the principal amount back failed even though Harnath's business seemed to be doing well.

Finally Chaudhary served an ultimatum on his son, "I want my money back by the end of this month.  I don't care how it is going to affect your business."  Harnath pleaded hard with him but Chaudhary didn't budge.  He refused to accept any of the excuses offered by Harnath.

His voice quivering with rage, Harnath made one last attempt, "Alright, I will give your money back to you.  But surely you could give me a couple of months' time!  I would be able to sell off some of the stocks within this time."

Chaudhary remained firm and hardened his stand, "Two months will never come to an end for you.  Nor will you ever be able to get the right deal for selling your stock.  I want my money back right now."

Harnath turned red with rage and walked away.  He soon came back with a wad of cash in his hand and dropped it in front of his father with a thud.

Chaudhary said with some embarrassment in his voice, "So you did have cash with you, didn't you!"

Harnath retorted, "How else could I run my business?  One can't last in business without liquid cash."

Chaudhary said in a conciliatory tone, "Well, let me keep only five hundred rupees.  After all, the whole of it will not get spent in a day. You keep the rest and return it to me after two months."

Harnath peevishly responded, "It is your money and you may do whatever you like with it.  I will have nothing to do with it.  Why should I suffer this indignity at your hands?  There is no dearth of moneylenders in this world."

Chaudhary suddenly appeared to have lost all enthusiasm for constructing the well and adding embellishments and conveniences to it.  He listlessly picked up the money and placed it on an open shelf in the wall.

For Harnath this wasn't the end of the transaction.  He had a plan up his sleeves.  In the dead of the night he quietly entered Chaudhary's room.  Chaudhary was fast asleep.  Harnath moved towards the shelf very quietly.  Just as he was about to pick up the cash, Gomati suddenly appeared out of nowhere.  She was clutching the cash in both her hands.

Harnath stopped dead in his tracks.  He reasoned to himself that he must be seeing things.  As he extended his hand a second time, he again saw Gomati.  This time her eyes were red and her face bore a fierce expression.  Harnath turned about and ran out of the room.  As he got into the verandah, he fainted and fell on the ground.

To be continued ...

The Miller Woman's Well - Part II

Chaudhary performed Gomati's last rites avoiding all extravagance.  As soon as these were over, he summoned his son, Harnath Singh.  Harnath was a businessman and he traded in foodgrains.  He spoke with Harnath for listing out all the items needed for constructing the well and working out an estimate of total cost.  Harnath seemed to be paying scant attention.  He interrupted his father and asked him, "Is this well business so urgent?  Can it not wait for a few months?"

His father replied, "Hmm..., why wait?  The funds from Gomati are more than adequate.  And some goodwill will come our way too for carrying out her wishes.  Above all it was her last wish to have the well constructed without any delay."

Harnath said, "All that is quite okay.  But don't you see this is harvest time.  We can buy grains for a few thousand rupees now and hold it for a few months.  Thereafter we would be able to sell it for a hefty profit.  I won't mind paying some interest to you."

This put Chaudhary in two minds.  If this investment could really add a few hundred rupees to Gomati's funds, he may be able to add a few conveniences to the well.  But what if there is a loss and it turns bad?

Finally he spoke out, "But loss too is a possibility: isn't it?"

"And, pray, why would there be a loss?", Harnath said rather testily.

Chaudhary said, "Well, we cannot rule out the possibility."

Harnath flared up, "Why don't you admit that you are too concerned about your image to help your own son?"

Like most people of his age Chaudhary too felt uneasy about confronting his son.  He said meekly, "I didn't say I won't lend the money to you.  But this isn't our money and we need to be careful.  There always is a risk in trading.  Prices could fall.  Pests could destroy our stock.  An envious competitor could even stealthily set our godown on fire.  We must give a thought to all the possibilities."

Harnath responded with sarcasm in his voice, "And have you given any thought to the possibility of this cash getting stolen; or the well collapsing midway through the construction?"

By this time poor Chaudhary felt like not-so-courageous a soldier staring at the enemy's shiny sword moving towards him.  He stopped looking into his son's eyes and his gaze shifted downwards.  Finally he asked, "Well, how much do you want?"

Harnath could sense that his father was about to give in.  He said sharply, "I want the whole of it.  We are talking of big ticket business here and not small change!"

Chaudhary gave in.  He consoled himself that there was no possibility of his image taking a beating.  After all no one knew about what transpired between Gomati and him during former's last moments.

Harnath bought a huge stock of grains.  Chaudhary was much worried about the safety of the stock and lost his sleep.  He started guarding the stock almost round the clock.  Six months went by.  Harnath made a sizeable profit of five hundred rupees.  From this he offered fifty rupees, a tenth, to his father.

Chaudhary felt very irritated.  He said, "Are you giving me alms?  Had you borrowed this sum from a moneylender, you would have to cough up at least two hundred rupees towards interest.  I will make you some concession but not accept your ridiculous offer."  Harnath didn't bargain too hard and settled the matter by paying one hundred fifty rupees to Chaudhary.

That night as Chaudhary lay in his bed, a smiling Gomati made an appearance before him.  Chaudhary was startled and he could feel his heart thumping in his chest.  He wasn't intoxicated and was wide awake.  He felt sure that he had seen none other than Gomati herself.  The good thing was that she looked happy.

To be continued ...

The Miller Woman's Well - A Tale by Munshi Premchand

Chaudhary Vinayak Singh was visiting Gomati, the miller woman, who was lying in her deathbed.  Gomati said, "Chaudhary, this is the only wish I have nurtured in my life."

Chaudhary replied in a somber manner, "Have no worries, Kaki.  Your wish will certainly be fulfilled.  I will put workers on the job right away.  God willing, you will get to drink the water from your well.  By the way, did you count how much you have been able to save for this noble task of constructing a well for public use?"

Gomati closed her eyes and strained her memory hard.  Finally she opened her eyes and said, "Dear, I have but little idea of how much I have.  Here, take this pot: It is all that I have.  I do hope that this will suffice and you will not have to go around seeking contributions."

Chaudhary weighed the pot in both his hands and said, "Yes, Kaki, we will make do with whatever we have.  People here are such misers!  They won't give a pinch of food to a hungry man, let alone contribute to a charitable cause.  You indeed are an exception.  You are donating your lifetime savings to this most noble task."

Gomati said with just a hint of pride in her voice, "My dear, you were only a kid when my husband passed away.  All his savings were spent on his treatment.  God must have loved him much for nothing could keep your Kaka from meeting his Maker at that early age.  I took to working on my flour mill for a living.  In those days I could mill half a quintal of grains every night with these very hands.  People wondered how could I do it.  What propelled me was this desire to construct a well in the name of my deceased husband.  People crave for sons and daughters so they may be remembered by and through them.  The well will immortalize your Kaka in the public memory."

Having entrusted Chaudhary Vinayak Singh with the task and her lifetime savings, Gomati passed away that night.  Her last words to Chaudhary were, "For God's sake, don't delay the construction of the well."  During her life, Gomati used to hide her money like a woman would hide a scar on her face. Chaudhary found two thousand rupees in the pot.  He could hardly believe that the old woman had saved a small fortune for the task.  She had carefully chosen Chaudhary for the task because was head of the village and known for his integrity.

To be continued ....

Pakistani Awam

I have little knowledge of Pakistan and its people except what I learn through various media.  And I must admit that what I learn through media isn't something to go gaga about.

Recently the media is agog with a news about how irate passengers turned back an ex-minister and a legislator who had kept an aircraft waiting for them for two hours beyond its scheduled departure time.  And this has made me look upon the Pakistani awam with a new found respect.

Of course, such delays seldom take place in India.  Whatever delays do take place on account of VIP movement here are because of their movement in their official or chartered planes or those belonging to their cronies, and not because of any movement by them in or out of a plane patronized by PLUs (People Like US.)  Those who have to suffer the ignominy of travelling in a plane shared by cattle-class public seldom think of themselves as VIP enough to cause such unconscionable delay.

Having said that, I must admit that I am not too sure if the Indian awam, under similar circumstances, would have just as boldly stood up to and chased away an offending VIP.  And even if they did I am not too sure if the offending VIP would have backed out.

I salute the Pakistani awam for being boldly assertive against VIP culture and do hope that they will display similar assertiveness against mullahs, terrorists and other state and non-state players who have been holding up their journey to peace and prosperity for decades.

Mardani

Watched Mardani and found it entertaining.  Indian cinema has consistently been reinforcing the belief that systemic changes are not possible and the only resort available is personal heroics.  The heroics in Mardani are performed by the heroine, Rani Mukherjee.

Our heroine finally and physically prevails upon the villain running a human trafficking gang.  Thereupon the villain smiles and says, "Go ahead and beat me if it gives you any satisfaction for that is all that you can do:  This is India and people like me with the right connections always go scot-free in the end."  Surprisingly, the heroine acknowledges the observation as a fact and then hands over the bruised and defeated villain to his victims.  Then she walks away after making a loud observation that it is precisely for this reason that many criminals get subjected to "public outrage."  The victims beat the villain to death.

The chief minister of UP has much appreciated the film and exempted it from the hefty entertainment tax burden.  Is that an encouragement for using "public outrage" as the only available weapon against well connected criminals and an admission that government and law are helpless in the matter?

U++ or One-upmanship

It seems to have begun with JL Nehru.  We were made to believe that he worked almost round the clock.  His daughter had justified use of luxury airconditioned cars in an era of strict socialism on the ground that she was working ALL the time.  Now our Pradhan Sevak, numero uno mazdoor, has promised to outdo all of us by working one hour more than us.  The big question is what happens if we start working round the clock, 24 hours a day?

The answer to that question was provided to me quite some time back by a very aggressive boss.  He demanded an impossible throughput from the training system.  It was demonstrated to him that the system will fall much short of the target even if all the resources were deployed for 24 hours a day.  He said without blinking an eyelid, "In that case work 36 hours a day!"

With a view to spare our PS such mathematical absurdities, I have stopped working altogether.  In fact I did that four years ago.  Thus, as far as I am concerned, the PS would have fulfilled his promise by working one hour each day.

My own experience in a PS Bank has convinced me that using hours input instead of objective targets as a measure of performance is the surest sign of an incompetent and lost executive.  This has caused untold miseries to the working class.  It is time that people at the top stopped fueling this myth.