Page 37 - Mindmail _June_2019

SHORT STORY

service. As he had stood at roadside for the General the eye of a cartoonist for
his post, the chief, entering Manager to come down, human faces. Everything
the office just then, looked and saluted him as he got went down into clay. It
up for a moment and into his car. was a wonderful miniature
asked, ‘Who are you?’ reflection of the world; and
There was a lot of time all he mounted them neatly
‘I’m the new gatekeeper, around him, an immense on thin wooden slices,
master,’ he had answered. sea of leisure. In this state which enhanced their
And he spoke again only he made a new discovery attractiveness. He kept
on this day. Though so about himself, that he these in his cousin’s shop
little was said, Singh could make fascinating and they attracted huge
felt electrified on both models out of clay and crowds every day and sold
occasions by the words of wood dust. The discovery very briskly. More than
his master. In Singh’s eyes came suddenly, when from the sales Singh felt
the chief had acquired a one day a child in the an ecstasy when he saw
sort of godhood, and it neighbourhood brought to admiring crowds clustering
would be quite adequate him its little doll for repair. around his handiwork.
if a god spoke to one He not only repaired it
only once or twice in a but made a new thing of On his next pension day
lifetime. In moments of it. This discovery pleased he carried to his office a
contemplation Singh’s him so much that he very street scene (which he
mind dwelt on the words of soon became absorbed in ranked as his best), and
his master, and on it. His back yard gave him handed it over the counter
his personality. a plentiful supply of pliant to the accountant with the
clay, and the carpenter’s request: ‘Give this to the
His life moved on shop next to his cousin’s Sahib, please!’
smoothly. The pension cigarette shop sawdust. made it a convention to office days. He passed it registered letter for you . . .’
together with what his wife He purchased paint for ‘All right,’ said the carry on every pension over the counter on his
earned by washing and a few annas. And lo! he accountant with a smile. It day an offering for his pension day and it created ‘For me!’ Any letter would
sweeping in a couple of found his hours gliding. created a sensation in the master, and each time his a very great sensation in have upset Singh; he had
houses was quite sufficient He sat there in the front office and disturbed the greatest reward was the the office. ‘Fellow, you received less than three
for him. He ate his food, part of his home, bent routine of office working accountant’s stock reply to have not left yourself out, letters in his lifetime, and
went out and met a few over his clay, and brought for nearly half an hour. his question: ‘What did the either!’ people cried, and each time it was a torture
friends, slept and spent into existence a miniature On the next pension day Sahib say?’ looked admiringly at Singh. for him till the contents
some evenings sitting at universe; all the colours he carried another model A sudden fear seized Singh were read out. Now a
a cigarette shop which his of life were there, all the (children at play) and ‘He said it was very good.’ and he asked, ‘The master registered letter! This
cousin owned. This tenor forms and creatures, but handed it over the counter. won’t be angry, I hope?’ was his first registered
of life was disturbed on the of the size of his middle At last he made his letter. ‘Only lawyers send
first of every month when finger; whole villages ‘Did the Sahib like the last masterpiece. A model of ‘No, no, why should he be?’ registered letters, isn’t
he donned his old khaki and towns were there, one?’ his office frontage with said the accountant, and it so?’
suit, walked to his old all the persons he had himself at his post, a car Singh received his pension
office and salaamed the seen passing before his ‘Yes, he liked it.’ at the entrance and the and went home. ‘Usually,’ said the
accountant at the counter office when he was sentry chief getting down: this postman.
and received his pension. there—that beggar woman ‘Please give this one to composite model was so A week later when
Sometimes if it was coming at midday, and that him—’ and he passed realistic that while he sat he was sitting on the ‘Please take it back. I don’t
closing he waited on the cucumber-vendor; he had it over the counter. He looking at it, he seemed pyol kneading clay, the want it,’ said Singh.
to be carried back to his postman came and said, ‘A
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