Considering all the
economical aspects and the elements of convenience,
at last, his wife conceded to his proposal and
Harbans Singh engaged the daughter of Swarna, the
cleaner of the school, a low caste. He had fully
reflected upon the magnitude of repercussions.
Harbans had developed an affinity with the people
from low castes since the time he was a little baby.
His mother was a teacher and it was Aysha, a
low-caste menial worker of the school, who looked
after him, fed him milk and gave him food. When he
grew a bit older his memory told him, Aysha was not
allowed to come near the kitchen in their house. She
was given left over food, and that too, in the cups
and plates she had kept in one corner of the house.
She always took food away from the kitchen to eat. He
resented this treatment. "Why can't she eat
normally sitting besides the rest of the
family?" he had thought many a time. When alone
in the house he did give her food in his own plates.
His mother wouldn't take notice of this but he was
severely reprimanded and rebuked by his grandmother
for allowing Aysha to come near the kitchen even.
In his university days, when he used to live in the
College hostel, he had, very often, asked the
low-caste cleaner to bring cooked food from outside
for him. A few of his mates resented to his action
but he did not care.
Although in official capacity not very high up, the
Physical Training Instructors in the schools were,
normally, considered to be the right-hand men of the
Headmasters. Not even Deputy Headmaster had so much
say. It was a P.T.I. who had contact with all the
boys and girls, and who could, directly or
indirectly, manoeuvre them in favour or disfavour of
the school authorities. Not only a P.T.I. acted as a
go-between the local community and the school
authorities, he, in most of the cases, assumed the
role of an errand boy, both for the Headmaster's
household and any social functions held in the
school.
One Saturday afternoon, the hockey match had
finished. Both, Amar Nath Headmaster and his Deputy,
Prem Shastri, were still in the office when Harbans
Singh, the P.T.I., had ordered Sucha Halwai at the
canteen to send a kettle of tea to the school. He
poured tea in two cups and asked Swarna to take them
to the office for the eadmaster and Shastri.
Leaving the cups there with them Swarna shot back.
"Sir Jee, they want you urgently in the
office," Swarna told P.T.I.
"P.T.I. Sahib, please be considerate
sometimes," the Headmaster charged when he came
in the office.
"Did I do anything wrong, sir?" he
inquired.
"You know very well who Swarna is. You have to
send tea...."
"Oh, I am sorry sir. Very, very sorry." he
took both the cups and came back to his office. He
put tea back in the kettle, washed the cups in the
basin, and returned.
"Here it is, Sir," he placed the clean cups
on the table and poured tea from the same kettle.
They did not hesitate to drink.
The Divisional Inspector of the Schools was visiting
the place once. He belonged to a low-caste family.
The local School Welfare Board arranged a dinner in
his honour. The Headmaster and his confidant Deputy
were in a fix, "How could they eat while sitting
next to a low-caste." Harbans Singh came to
their rescue. Cleverly, he arranged the seating of a
few dignitaries of non-sectarian nature in between
the Inspector and them two. He spared them the
indignity of eating while sitting next to a
low-caste. Both, the Headmaster and his Deputy
belonged to very high castes. Both had worked as
teachers in the same school for a number of years.
When they were promoted, they both joined Jagatjit
High School within a few months of each other. They
were ardent devotees of the local Hindu Temple and
took active advisory roll in its affairs, too.
Harbans already had a baby boy when he joined this
School as P.T.I. His wife, Mohinder, was appointed as
an Oriental teacher there at the same time. As both
were working they had brought with them their
parents' young servant. The boy did not like the
village life and ran away after a few months. Then,
one by one, they tried a few caste Hindu and Sikh
young girls as domestics but they faced nothing but
the trouble. For a long time they had a hard time.
Swarna's wife often visited Harbans and Mohinder's
house for cleaning up. Whenever she was to handle the
washing up of the clothes, she brought her daughter,
Pooro, with her. Pooro was very efficient. Harbans
and his wife always got her to do other domestic work
too. Pooro was very friendly with Harbans's son and
often helped Mohinder in feeding him. Pooro's mother
reprimanded her but they never objected. Pooro
matured rapidly and in a couple of years she attained
full-fledged womanhood. Not only efficient, she was
exceptionally good-looking too. She had a knack for
fancy clothes and jewellery, though artificial. When
the wives of houses, where her mother worked, gave
her used clothes, Pooro would pick up the flashy ones
for herself. In talking and chatting too, she was as
flamboyant as her get up. She had become a favourite
of Mohinder. Mohinder took advantage of her
efficiency and, candidly, used her services in and
around the kitchen more often. Quietly, when their
maid was off, she would ask Pooro to cook and make
the chapattis, too.
The maidservant they had was getting married. She was
leaving within a few days. They had considered a few
girls but were not satisfied. Sitting on the sofa one
evening, they were pondering over the matter. Pooro
walked in and left the tea tray on the table.
"Hey, what the hell we are searching for?"
Harbans nearly sprung up.
"What happened so suddenly?" Mohinder
asked.
"Don't you see? How efficient she is and our son
likes her too."
"You mean Pooro? Have you gone mad? Quietly it
is different. If people came to know that she was
doing all our kitchen work, they would stop eating
with us, perhaps would boycott."
"I don't care. Any way it is illegal. No body
can object openly."
"But Pooro's mother and father.... Would they
agree?"
They did not in the beginning but acquiesced to
Harbans's request on one condition that Pooro must
accompany and help her mother when she went for
cleaning to other houses and, particularly, to the
places where the Headmaster and Shastri lived.
The news of Pooro working as a domestic servant in
the house of P.T.I. spread like a wild fire. Harbans
had a bit of literary bent. His poems had been
published in a few magazines. Most of his literary
associates were very progressive. They were jubilant
and their jubilation caused further commotion in the
fundamentalist elite. The priest of the Sikh Temple
very quietly asked him not to indulge in such
practices but priest's wife openly revolted. Her two
school-going daughters were very close to Mohinder
and her son, She admonished them; neither to go to
their house nor play with the boy. A few teachers,
perhaps under the influence of their wives, tactfully
avoided even having tea at Harbans's place.
When the Headmaster came to know of this he called
P.T.I. to his office. Shastri, the Deputy Head, was
with him.
"Harbans Singh, I know, according to the
Constitution of India it is illegal to discriminate
against the people from low-castes, but, you must
realise, it takes a few generations to change the old
ingrained attitudes. I have full sympathy with the
people of those classes. I do not discriminate. You
know Swarna, his wife and their daughter, Pooro, they
always come to our house. Pooro is such a nice, quite
submissive and amicable girl. They go anywhere in our
house. But, you realise, it would be very difficult
for us to accept them in our kitchens, let alone
cooking. I have heard that Pooro is now working in
your house and cooking as well. I cannot force you,
but isn't it a bit going too far?"
Harbans Singh could not refute his boss's analogy
point blank and said, "I understand your
concern, sir," and, hesitantly added, "I
will try to replace her as soon as possible."
"In the meantime," Shastri barged in,
"When we come to your house to attend any of
your literary meetings, please don't mind our not
eating anything there."
It was Sunday afternoon. Headmaster's wife had gone
to Julandher City along with her teen-aged daughter
to see her parents. Her older son was there already
studying in D.A.V. Post Graduate College. P.T.I.
approached the main door of the house where
Headmaster lived. He was going to knock when he found
the door without any latch from inside. He entered
the house. On his right, in the lounge, he saw
Shastri lying spread-eagled on the sofa. He was
snoring. Except underwear he had nothing on. Harbans
did not want to disturb him and, quietly, went
straight into the house. A few minutes later he
stepped down the stairs and paced back rapidly. The
pounding of his erratic footsteps made Shastri to
jump up.
"Who is it?" Shastri shouted, "You
Harbans? What are you doing here? Why?... why?... how
did you come in?" Shastri was really in a panic.
"The latch of the front door was off."
"Oh, silly me. I forgot. Did you... did you go
in?"
Harbans faltered, "Yes... yes, I just went to
the kitchen to measure the place for the new
cup-board." The kitchen was on the ground floor
adjoining the lounge. To avoid further interrogation
he added, "I must go now. I am already late. I
have to attend a foot-ball match in the school,"
and he jumped out of the house.
Harbans had lied. Actually he had gone straight up
the stairs. He wanted to measure the broken door of
the bedroom of the Headmaster for replacement. When
he was just going to step on the door ledge, he heard
moaning, groaning and heavy breathing. The broken
part of the door was quite wide. He looked in. Two
bodies were amalgamated into one. He recognised the
body on top: it was Headmaster. While spinning his
body up and down, he had his mouth passionately stuck
on the lips of the female. Headmaster's oversize face
covered most of her features. Harbans tried to have a
glimpse of her but it was eclipsed. Harbans's eyes
moved towards right. There it was, a ladies suite
lying helplessly on one corner of the bed. He
recognised. He had seen that in the morning.
He felt disgusted. "Oh, my God," he
whispered to himself, "It is Pooro."
Any reader who
writes about ten lines (150word) as a critique on
this
fiction and sends it to the Author, will receive the
Author's book, MUKLAWA & OTHER STORIES,
containing his 20 stories free of cost. This applies
to his first story published in this site as well.
[bindra@rogers.com]
