We cannot forget certain events we witness in our life. Some events will be registered in our minds like video recordings.
As a Government official, I have visited many places to audit the accounts of village and town panchayats*.
Of these visits, the visits to some of the places remain engraved in my memory. This is due to some unforgettable experiences I had had at those places.
One such incident happened in a small village. That village had a town panchayat. I had to be there for three days to audit the accounts of that panchayat.
It was a small village. There was no lodging house at that place. In those days, even towns had only a few lodges, The President of the Panchayat Board asked me to stay in his house. But I politely declined his offer and stayed at the Panchayat Board office itself.
During the day time, I did my audit. During the night, I slept on a wooden bench in the office. I had to go out for taking my food and for taking my bath. I took bath in the river that flowed in that village. Fortunately, during that time, there was a good flow of water in the river.
There was an ancient Siva temple in that village. Though the temple had the distinction of having been mentioned in the hymns of the ancient Saivite saints known as Nayanmars, it was not very popular at that time. Some devotees from far off places, knowing about the distinction of the temple would occasionally visit that place.
Sometimes, devotees would come in tourist buses. To cater to the needs of these visitors, there was small restaurant in that village. It was called 'Mangala Vilas Hotel.' The hotel was maintained well and the quality of food offered was also reasonably good.
I had my food at that hotel thrice a day for the three days of my stay in that village. Though the President of the Panchayat Board repeatedly invited me to have food in his house, I politely declined his invitation.
The Panchayat Board office had only one employee, called Ramalingam. He assisted me in doing the audit by providing me the accounts and other records needed by me. He accompanied me to the restaurant, when I went there to eat. I tried to discourage him from doing this, but he insisted on providing me company.
I knew that the President of the Panchayat Board would have advised Ramalingam to pay the restaurant bill for my food. But I didn't allow him to pay for my food. I think that this might have created a respect for me in his mind. (His experience with other auditors in the past might have been different!)
At the restaurant, an elderly person was sitting at the cash counter. I learnt that he was the proprietor of the restaurant. His son was commanding the employees. He was about thirty years old. He was short and stout. He looked like a villain's henchman in films. Even during my first visit to the hotel, I noticed that he was rude to the employees. However, he would speak pleasingly to the customers, with a smile on his face.
When I was having my lunch at that restaurant on the third day of my stay there, I heard some noises and looked inside. The proprietor's son was beating a cleaner boy who was about twelve years old, with a broom. It appeared that the man had grabbed the broom from the boy and beat him with it.
The boy was crying desperately, "Please, boss. Don't beat me," but the man didn't show any mercy. After beating him seven or eight times, the man threw down the broom. The cleaner boy picked up the broom crying and went inside.
The proprietor who was watching the incident from his seat didn't try to restrain his son. The people dining in the restaurant - most of them belonging to the village - didn't try to stop the cruel act, either. They were just watching it. So was I!
"What is this. sir!?" How can the man be so inhuman?" I asked Ramalingam.
"Sir, this is a recurring incident. The boy is an orphan. It is his misfortune that he has come to work here" said Ramalingam.
I left the village the same evening.
Even after many years, the cruel treatment meted out to the cleaner boy by the hotel proprietor's son and the desperate wail of the boy would vividly run before my mind's eye, like a scene from a film and make me feel sad.
After about twenty five years, I had an opportunity to visit that village again. Not on official work, though, since I had retired from service a few years back. It was on account of my wife's desire to visit the temple at that place, after she had read an article about the temple in a magazine.
Though I went to that village, for the second time, at the behest of my wife, I was also driven by the curiosity to know whether the restaurant 'Mangala Vilas Hotel' was still running and how the proprietor, his merciless son and the poor cleaner boy were doing.
The village had not changed much over the years, except for the number of visitors to the temple appearing to have gone up.
After coming out of the temple, I wanted to ask someone about 'Mangala Vilas Hotel.' Immediately, I thought of Ramalingam. At that moment, I cursed myself for not thinking of meeting him, but entertaining an idle curiosity about the people connected with the restaurant.
When I enquired someone about Ramalingam, I learnt that his residence was nearby. We walked towards his house.
My wife was not enthusiastic about my visiting Ramalingam.
"Is he a friend of you? You have met him once twenty five years back, when you had been here for official work. What is the need to meet him now? Should we not catch the next available bus and return home?" she protested.
However, I was keen on meeting Ramalingam.
When we reached Ramalingam's house, I saw an elderly man standing on the door-step of the house. When I asked him about Ramalingam, he greeted me cheerfully, "Sir! What a pleasant surprise! I am meeting you after so many years."
Realizing that he was Ramalingam, I said, apologetically, "I am sorry I couldn't recognize you. But you have recognized me instantly!"
"Out of about thirty auditors I had met during my service at the Panchayat Board office, you were the only person who didn't allow us to buy you food even. How can I forget you?" he said, with sincere admiration.
After we had mutually shared some information about our families and our present state of life, I asked him about 'Mangala Vilas Hotel.'
"Oh! That hotel has been closed" said Ramalingam, tersely.
"Oh! There was a cleaner boy there. When I was here, he was beaten up by the proprietor's son. You may also remember that incident. Where is he now?"
"He had run away after sometime. After that, they couldn't get a suitable replacement for him. After the proprietor passed away, his son Shanmugam, the short, fat man who beat up the boy, couldn't manage the hotel. With another restaurant coming up, he had to close down their restaurant due to recurring losses and inability to face the competition!" said Ramalingam.
"Then?"
My wife gave me a stern look, as if reprimanding me for seeking information about people unconnected with us. "We may miss the bus" she said, by way of hinting that she didn't approve of my inquiries.
"Don't worry, madam. Bus service is very frequent here!" Ramalingam reassured her, without understanding her real concern!
"After that, Shanmugam suffered a lot. He had to work as a labourer, for survival. From being an employer and treating his employees arrogantly, he came down to to the position of a labourer, who had to be humble before his employers. He has two sons. After they grew up, they persuaded him to sell the land on which the restaurant was located so that they could start a business, using the sale proceeds as the capital. After Shanmugam sold the land and gave the money to them, they went away, never to come back. They were not bothered about their parents. Even their whereabouts are not known to Shanmugam. Eventually, Shanmugam's wife also passed away. Now Shanmugam doesn't have the strength to work. With no house to live in and no income, he is eking out a livelihood by begging, sitting outside the temple. He is living and sleeping on the street."
"How pathetic!" I said, genuinely feeling sorry for Shanmugam.
We took leave of Ramalingam and proceeded towards the bus stand. Soon after we stepped out of Ramalingam's house, my wife told me, "Don't say we should go to the temple and see how Shanmugam is doing! I don't have the strength to walk a long distance. We will also be late to catch the bus!"
I didn't have the mind to see Shanmugam, whom I have seen as a merciless bully, begging people for money, either!
* panchayats - elected local administrative bodies
Section 1
The Path of Virtue
Chapter 8
Love and Affection
Verse 77 (In Tamil)
enbiladhanai veyil pOlak kAyumE
anbiladhanai aRam.
Meaning:
Just as the Sun's rays scorch boneless creatures, the God of Righteousness will torment an unkind person.
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