by Ruskin Bond
'I don't know Virendra, I don't know the answer to your question. I did not try because by nature – would you say by predestination? Or by character, I always had very little ambition, whether it was achieving something for myself, or something for others. Your system and surroundings! And of course without having any foreknowledge as to what would happen if I put the effort in. I feel unhappy that efforts of so many people have simply gone to waste, and I certainly did not foresee this disaster even though I did not see a glorious future.'
The waiter appeared at the table with the bill resting on a plate almost entirely covered with anise seed. Virendra stretched his hand to take the bill, but Khanna held his wrist and said, 'Let me take it. Since we came first, you are our guest.' Virendra did not insist. Khanna took the bill, he got his wallet out, and paid the waiter. The waiter examined the sum, salaamed Khanna, and left.
Virendra looked at his watch and said, 'Well, it is about time that I went.' While he said that, in a flash he thought about what might be going on at the laboratory. He then looked at both Harjinder and Khanna and asked, 'What are you going to do?'
'I think we are ready to go back to the station. What do you say?' Harjinder asked Khanna.
'Yes,' Khanna said.
They all got up, pushed the chairs to go out; Virendra put his chair back to its original position, then all of them slowly walked towards the door. Virendra was ahead of Khanna and Harjinder; before going out of the door he stopped. He turned around to face Harjinder and Khanna and said, 'Well, see you then at the university tomorrow.'
'Can we give you a ride to your workshop? I have brought the car along,' Khanna inquired.
'No,' Virendra said, 'your vehicle wouldn't go into the lane I am going. Thank you though.'
'Best of luck then. Maybe something good will come out at the end of the day,' Khanna said. Virendra did not answer; he just smiled.
Virendra led them out of the spring door into the street and the sun. There was a rickshaw standing in the shade of a nearby tree. Virendra walked towards it, said something to the rickshaw puller, and then got onto it. Virendra waved; Harjinder and Khanna waved back.
Virendra's body was again in the full sun, he felt that he was lowered into an oven again. He made a determined effort to ignore that and concentrate on what he would be seeing when he reached the workshop.
SIX
A STUNNING SURPRISE WAS WAITING FOR VIRENDRA IN THE workshop. He rushed through the front garage door, crossed the corridor quickly, and entered the small room where the owner sat. Nobody was there. He paused for a second there, then walked towards the inner door, went through it, crossed the next room, and reached the last room where the machinist was working earlier. Nobody was there. He felt totally uncertain and confused.
He walked to the milling machine to examine if the machined parts were there; there was no sign of them. He looked around at the other work tables, but he could not find anything. He thought for a moment and then decided to go back to the owner's room. Arriving there he stood at the table and examined the table top; it was exactly the way he had seen it when he first came in the morning. Nothing had moved. Only a piece of paper fluttered from under a paperweight from the air the ceiling fan was circulating.
He pondered for a while about where both the machinist and the owner might have gone. It was too hot outside for anybody to have gone out for tea or something like that; he guessed that they might be somewhere else in the workshop. He decided to undertake a search. As he was coming out of the room he met a worker who was getting into the room with some machined parts. Virendra asked him whether he had seen either the owner or the milling machinist. He said that he had not seen either for quite some time. The worker was of no help.
Virendra came out of the room and entered the large work area that was visible from the entrance. There were only a couple of large machines where work was going on; he decided to ask those workers. He walked past the worker who was on the machine on a turning job and went to the one who was taking some measurements at a work table. This machinist also was not in a position to give him any precise information. He simple said, 'Try at the welding shop,' and indicated a door at the back of the large room, presumably through which one had to go to the welding shop.
That lead was better than nothing at all. Virendra thanked the machinist and walked towards the rear door. The door opened to another shed which was the welding shop. Near the welding machine which stood at the centre of the shed there was a group of three people attending to an electric welding job, and the owner was standing nearby, supervising the work. As Virendra entered the welding shop he attracted the attention of the owner, but the owner did not show any reaction to Virendra's appearance. Virendra did not mind this indifference, he fully new that he was not only an insignificant but also a rather intruding customer. The initiative was to be his. He approached the owner and asked, 'I could not find the milling machine man, do you know where he is?'
'He has gone home. He took leave and left early.' The owner replied.
Virendra felt as if somebody had removed the rug from under his feet. He was quite familiar with such situations at the university; often he got a promise and then for some totally unexpected reasons got a notice of postponement. So, when he must have a certain job done, usually he or one of his students physically waited nearby until the job was done. He should have done that today as well, but now it was too late. There was nobody to blame except himself.
The owner probably read Virendra's mind. He said, 'He has done your job.'
So unexpected was this message that Virendra could not say anything more articulate than an involuntary, 'Has he?'
'Yes. Come with me to my office. I will give you the parts.' Then he turned to the other workers and told them that he would be back shortly, walked past Virendra towards the door of the main workshop. Virendra, with a bewildered feeling, followed.
They crossed the main workshop and the corridor and entered the small room. The owner went around the table and sat down on his chair. With an expectant but uncertain feeling Virendra pulled a chair opposite and sat down. The owner pulled out a desk drawer on his right side, took out a small packet, and placed it on the table. Virendra anxiously watched but did not make any move. The owner opened the packet, which was actually a piece of paper folded several times. As he unfolded the last remaining fold, two shining steel parts emerged. Virendra felt overwhelmed with joy. But he contained himself; he did not move.
'He did an unusually quick job today,' the owner said, 'even I was surprised. But after turning in the job, he said that he wanted the remaining day's leave, and I granted it. In fact, I never say no to whatever he says. He is an extremely competent but highly temperamental person; he can leave this twenty years' job in less than five minutes' notice. I believe he has done the job to the specifications, but still, you should check.'
Virendra decided not to express his views until he actually checked the dimensions. He drew the paper towards him; it was the same paper on which he had provided the drawing. There was a pair of callipers lying on the table, he picked them up first, then picked up one of the parts and started making measurements of the crucial dimensions, checking from time to time the dimensions given on the drawing. They were all within the stated tolerances. When he was done with the first, he picked up the second and went through the checking process. He was most pleasantly surprised – not a single dimension was beyond the limits of the required tolerance. He could not recall coming across a similar experience in the past – satisfying such demanding constraints of both speed and accuracy.
Virendra looked up towards the owner and said, 'I am most impressed. Quite frankly, the quality of the work has been beyond my expectations. I cannot quite express my satisfaction in words, and I am so grateful to you for undertaking the job.'
The owner listened and looked at Virendra with satisfaction, but did not say anything.
Virendra continued, 'Could you please tell how much I should pa
y for the job?'
The owner pondered for a second. 'You see,' he said, 'we did not take up this job for the purpose of making money. In fact, we never accept jobs like this. We, rather he, accepted it because you are from the university. We respect the university people.'
'We are honoured,' Virendra said, 'but even then I would feel better if you would accept some money.'
'All right then, give me fifty rupees, if it is all right by you. However, I cannot give you a receipt right away. My cashier comes only late afternoons, so I will send you the receipt by mail.'
Virendra said, 'Yes, absolutely all right.' He took out his wallet, took out from it five ten-rupee notes and placed them on the table and put a metal piece on it as a paperweight. Fifty was a reasonable charge, although he was prepared for much more. He looked at the owner and asked, 'Would it be all right if I left some money for the machinist? He has done such a fine job, not to mention his kindness.'
'I would not think of doing anything like that,' the owner said. 'He is needy but a terribly proud man. If you would let me, then I shall communicate your gratitude to him. That would be just right.'
Virendra understood. 'Yes. Please do that on my behalf,' Virendra said. 'In fact, he is so good that we would be pleased to have such people in the university.'
'You may not know, but he once applied for a job in the university. Twenty years ago.'
'Then what happened?'
'He was rejected. In fact he was not even called for the trade test. He had his school education only up to the seventh class. He could not study further as his father died and he had to take up the family responsibility. Your university insisted on education up to the eighth class. Any other person would have somehow collected a fake certificate – you know that it is not difficult to procure such certificates. But he refused to do that.'
Virendra froze. For an instant he was overwhelmed by a feeling of sorrow and deep depression. Then he recovered. He knew his total helplessness in the existing social situation. His limitations loomed large in front of him. He wondered whether that was the reason the machinist went away without having to face someone from the university again. Then why did he accept the job in the first place? Virendra realised such answers could not be found so easily; all these were complex issues. He recovered from his thoughts and realised that he should say something in response to what the owner had just said. Again he could not muster anything appropriate; he simply said, 'That is indeed a sad thing. Anyway, please convey my gratitude to him, and thank you very much for the help. But I must go now; the people there are expecting me.'
After saying this he rose; the owner also rose. Virendra felt that he should make another polite remark. While slowly taking steps towards the door he said, 'If you ever come to the university side, please stop by, I will show you around.' The owner seemed pleased by the offer. He said, 'I will.'
Virendra said, 'Then I shall go now.' The owner nodded. Virendra came out of the small room, walked across the corridor, then through the main door, and stepped into the street and again into the hot sun.
He looked at his watch; it was almost three o'clock. He surveyed both sides of the lane but did not immediately see any rickshaw. He started walking towards the main road. He realised that he did not have much of an alternative. He could not get a taxi there; the only place where one could get a taxi was the railway station, and the station was in a direction opposite to the university. The small three-wheeler auto-rickshaws were also not available in this part of the town; so pedalled rickshaws were the only available alternative. He decided to take one of those to the nearby tempo stand, and from there if necessary hire an entire tempo to the university. Now that he was out of the workshop his thought concentrated on reaching the university at the earliest. Near the main road, he found an empty rickshaw. He climbed into it and sat down and asked the rickshaw puller to take him to the nearest tempo stand. To save time he did not even ask the man the fare.
He was fortunate that the rickshaw was in a good mechanical condition – it moved smoothly, and the man pulling it knew well how to move it fast through heavy traffic. Not often did one come across such rides, but this was one. The man first went towards the main circle, took a right turn and took a short-cut towards the main tempo stand. The ride was hot and uncomfortable as before, but Virendra's mind was now fully preoccupied with thoughts about the laboratory. The oncoming traffic, the people, buildings, the shops through which the vehicle moved made only a fleeting impression; no details were recorded. It seemed to him that the rickshaw puller made the rickshaw reach the main tempo stand of the city in no time. He parked the rickshaw next to the tempos which went to the university, held the handle of the rickshaw with one hand and with the other pulled the thin red towel from his shoulder and wiped the dripping sweat from his forehead, face, and neck, and waited for the payment. Virendra got down from the rickshaw, paid him more than what the regular fare would have been, and walked towards the tempos.
This was not the time to have many passengers for the university; somewhat later, after the offices closed, there would be many who travelled to the university and nearby areas. The tempo whose turn was to go was waiting in the front, but it had, at that time, only one passenger inside. The driver was not visible. Virendra looked around for the driver, then walked to the shed nearby where the drivers and their aides sometimes sat, drank tea, smoked, discussed their problems, and sometimes fought about the priority list of tempos to take passengers. He found the driver there, and the driver was pleased that Virendra offered to hire the full tempo and pay fares for all the passengers. The driver called his assistant and both of them came out to their tempo. Virendra got in. The driver also got in, started the engine, and put it in gear. The machine started with a small jerk, and the assistant jumped in. Virendra did not mind the other passenger inside, although he knew well that despite the fact that he would be paying for the full tempo, the driver was capable of extracting something from the passenger when he got off.
Virendra was now retracing his path back to the university. The tempo was moving reasonably fast, the metal-can body making a rattling noise; it was going past shops and buildings, the hot air coming in from both the sides, and Virendra, sitting in the middle of the rear seat and looking forward was thinking only about what lay ahead. The uncomfortable hot air was not conducive to any fine analysis; it just kept his mind filled and unavailable for any other thoughts. In a vague way he was keeping track of how long it would be before he reached the campus. But he was not looking at his watch; he intuitively knew that it was more meaningful to register the landmarks that he was going past for assessing the distance remaining. All these were going on semiconsciously.
The tempo went past the cemeteries, the slaughterhouse, the idgaah, the twin lakes, the medical college hospital, and the suburban railway station at the edge of the city. The journey continued at a uniform speed and a monotonous rattling noise came out of the body of the jalopy. The gurgling noise of the engine accompanied a reeking smell of gasoline. The tempo driver was driving at ease, maybe from the satisfaction that he had secured the fare of the full tempo at an unexpected time and without much waiting at the stand. Driving on the rather traffic-free main road was a test of his maturity and patience, but he fared well, he did not accelerate madly. This helped Virendra; though physically uncomfortable, he could remain peacefully immersed in his thoughts.
The driver made it smoothly and no less important, eventlessly, to the university campus gate, and then he stopped. He expressed his disinclination to enter the campus proper. It was not surprising to Virendra, because some tempo drivers took this stand, even if one hired the entire tempo and paid for all the passengers. This was actually a sequel to university administration's refusal to allow a permanent terminus for the tempos inside the campus. Virendra knew it, so when the tempo driver did not budge after a second request, he did not pursue it further. Part of the reason he relented was that he saw a rickshaw waiting near the gate – h
e thought he would be able to take it. He paid the tempo driver off, walked to the rickshaw, boarded it, and soon was on the main road inside the campus.
He looked once again at his watch; it was about a quarter to four. The sun was still hot, the atmosphere no less uncomfortable than what he had experienced when he left for the city, but the shadows of the trees hinted that they had just started becoming longer. There was hope in the air that the earth might take a turn towards cooling. Virendra was still absorbed in the thoughts about the laboratory. He had kept the stainless steel parts in his right trouser pocket. In the sitting position they were pressing against his body, and kept Virendra aware of their existence. At times when Virendra was recalling how well the parts were machined he was feeling hope; he was thinking perhaps he and his students were close to a turning point, and away from ill luck. For a moment he even imagined that the machine would be in a working state by the evening, and then all the effort and wait would be considered worthwhile. It would be a great day for his student Sreekanth, who needed the machine most.
The rickshaw reached the crossing from where the academic area started; the rickshaw puller took a right turn towards the main entrance to the academic area. This northbound road was now fully in shade because of the sun's tilt and because of the large trees that lined the road and almost covered the sky. The rickshaw took a left turn at the gate of the academic area and entered inside. The main building was straight ahead. Virendra waited as the rickshaw moved towards the building. It was a mixed feeling of impatience, physical exhaustion, uncertainty, and hope.
When the rickshaw reached the main building and stopped, he quickly paid off the rickshaw puller the standard fare fixed for on-campus hires and walked into the portico of the building. He walked quickly past the lobby, then turned right on the corridor under the catwalk and walked straight towards the laboratory building. On reaching the building he took the staircase up. Someone walked down past him but Virendra was so engrossed that he did not recognise who the person was. He was soon on the first floor. He took a right turn, went past the first door to the right, and stopped in front of the second. The corridor appeared dark. Ordinarily it did not have much light, but to Virendra it appeared quite dark as he was coming from so much sunlight. He did not first realise it, but the normally-locked door of the laboratory was open, but just barely. He pulled the door and stepped in.