A Successful Man
Jasbir S Jagdeo
Copyright Jasbir S Jagdeo 2014
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient.
Exactly at nine twenty-five, Sardar Joginder Singh, SDO, Punjab State Electricity Board, entered the office in his white Zen. The car was a year old. As he entered the three-storey building after locking his car, he cursed the new government.
Three months back, his fixed time for arrival at the office was at ten. But since the new government had been sworn in, it had apparently sworn to weed out corruption and absenteeism from government and semi-government enterprises. For the first few days, Joginder Singh, SDO, could be seen on his seat at the stroke of nine. But as the value of a car depreciates year by year, day by day SDO sahib’s concern for punctuality was diminishing.
SDO sahib’s office was on the second floor. Climbing the stairs, the reverent Sat Sri Akaals of his subordinates seemed to cool his insides.
Taking his seat, Joginder Singh summoned his peon and ordered him in a lofty voice to bring water. The month of June was really unbearable. It had rained a day earlier but the sun had since wiped its memory out of people’s minds. Joginder Singh glanced at the cooler. It was off.
The peon brought the water and put it on the table.
‘Turn on the cooler. Don’t you know how hot it is?’
‘Sir ji, the pump of the cooler is gone.’
Joginder Singh saw his day floating on his perspiration. ‘You do one thing, take this,’ he took out a hundred rupee note from his purse, ‘go and bring some mechanic. Go to a standard shop; I need the bill.’
‘All right sir.’
Before the peon had left, something else occurred to Joginder Singh. ‘Is Bade Sahib in?’
‘Yes sir. He came just before you.’
‘You go.’
He had graduated from Thapar College of Engineering and Technology, Patiala. He was initially posted at Patiala after his selection, but he got himself transferred to his hometown within two years. His father was a doctor; he found a doctor wife for his son. He had two children, a boy and a girl. He had constructed his own house at Sarabha Nagar, a posh colony, which was now worth more than half-a-crore rupees.
He was a successful man.
Sometimes, Joginder Singh mounted his stallion of success and went galloping round the city. He often saw many well-known faces on well-known streets of the city engaged in not so well-known occupations. Most of his classmates hadn’t got halfway up the steep mountain at the top of which he sat. One coloured his much-cultivated fair skin in demeaning marketing jobs and another ran an unsuccessful own business started with his father’s life’s savings. Another floated in varying tastes of clouds to rise up from the despair of earth. Joginder Singh wasn’t the man who would laugh at the afflictions of others, but to be pleased at oneself for being not one of them was not a sin after all.
He picked up the glass and, not so much to quench his thirst as to cool himself a bit, drank the water. It was almost hot. He had instructed his peon a hundred times that he must get water only from the water cooler. But he always brought him fresh water.
Joginder Singh wondered how to escape the heat. He couldn’t leave the office as Bade Sahib was in. Bade Sahib’s room also had a desert cooler installed in it as well as the phone. But he always felt a little uncomfortable in his company. Who knows, he might assign him some work. He always found some reason to reprimand him. But considering the heat, he found some courage and got up. Bade Sahib is better than this scorching heat, he thought. He might as well make a few phone calls.
‘Sat Sri Akaal sir.’ Bade Sahib’s room was in front of SDO Sahib’s room.
‘Hanji, you have come.’ Bade Sahib indicated the seat, ‘Sit.’
At fifty, his years outnumbered the hairs on his head. But he could, fortunately, still use the comb. Whether he did or not, Joginder wasn’t sure.
‘Then, SDO Sahib, how are you?’
‘With your grace, sir, days are passing.’ SDO Sahib laughed and then left his lips in a stretched smile. That was his method to deal with people higher in rank.
‘Everything is all right?’
‘Yes sir, fine.’ Joginder Singh avoided his trademark laughsmile this time.
After an awkward silence, Joginder Singh took out his purse and put a few visiting cards on the table. He had put in a word for an acquaintance to the Model Town SDO for an electricity connection a few days back. First, he decided, he would enquire about that.
He didn’t need the visiting card; he knew the number.
Daljit Kaur, Internal Auditor, entered the room, probably to kill the heat. She had a file in her hand. She was one of the shrewdest employees in the section. While Joginder Singh thanked his counterpart at Model Town for speedily getting things done on his behalf, Daljit Kaur explained some problem to Bade Sahib.
Putting the phone down, Joginder Singh examined her subordinate’s person. She hadn’t the fire that she must have had ten years back, but a trace of old flames still lingered in her. She had gained weight but the figure was still proportionate.
‘If you had brought it to my attention earlier, we would have definitely found some solution.’ Bade Sahib had deep respect for the woman.
‘Sir, you know our work is time-bound. Staff is not as per workload, sometimes a letter goes unnoticed.’
‘SDO Sahib, you should help her. You should have a look at files occasionally.’ Bade sahib began to get big on him.
‘Why not? If the files came to me, I would.’ Joginder Singh laughsmiled.
‘That time is gone, SDO Sahib, when the files would come on their own. Nowadays, you have to bring them yourself.’ Bade Sahib had grown into a full-fledged monster. ‘They don’t have feet that they would automatically come to you. You help her from now on.’
‘Definitely. Madam, you send the files to me.’
Daljit Kaur wrapped up the file, got up, and left the room.
Even with the desert cooler on, Joginder Singh was wet from sweat as well something else. Bade Sahib often talked like that, but fortunately till now, things were between them. He had never been insulted in the presence of a subordinate till now. The room had turned into a jail cell. He had forgotten about using the office phone. Only one question resounded in his mind now. How to get out of the room?
Twice Joginder Singh put his hands on the arms of the chair, and shifted his weight towards his legs, but his courage melted. He succeeded the third time. ‘I shall go and see what is there to do.’
He left the jailor wondering what he had to see.
He contemplated going to Daljit Kaur to discuss the problem that she had brought to Bade Sahib. Daljit Kaur had loads of experience as well as knowledge in the work of the office. Joginder Singh always felt like a novice speaking to her. SDO Sahib therefore bridled his irresponsible thought, and entered the furnace of his coolerless room.
The peon was not back yet. Sitting idly at his seat, a thought occurred to Joginder Singh. He opened the topmost drawer of his table and began to re-arrange its contents in some semblance of order. They included his pay-slips, receipts of Insurance premiums, acknowledgements of deposits, some important official letters, and other trivia.
Remembering something, Joginder Singh examined the receipt of the life insurance premium paid last year. He looked at the calendar.
It dawned on him that the last date for the payment for the current year was on the coming Monday, two days later. The next two days were days off. Monday had been declared a holiday by the government on account of Anniversary of the Martyrdom of Shahid Bhagat Singh, though the ca
lendar didn’t indicate it (having been printed during the previous regime).
Joginder Singh pulled out his wallet and looked for the card of the insurance agent. It wasn’t easy to scan through the innumerable cards in there, and after all the hard work, he found nothing. He had to do something about the insurance.
SDO Sahib thought of the possibility that he would die during the coming weekend. If he didn’t deposit the premium today, his family might not be able to claim the insurance. They gave a one month grace period for the deposit of the premium, so he could wait till Tuesday provided he remained alive. But if he died, there could be complications. He didn’t know about the rules in case that happened.
If he indeed died, the entire premium that he had paid in the past years would go to waste. And people would laugh at his negligence. What a prudent man and didn’t leave a paisa for his family! Joginder Singh didn’t have faith anybody. Insurance agent, Insurance company, himself… no, not himself.
He decided that the premium had to be deposited today, sun or no sun. He should have stayed in his AC car anyway. People would have laughed at that too though. What are you doing here? Have you forgotten where you want to go?
SDO Sahib shrugged.
He smiled at the tendency of a man to turn insane at the slightest discomfiture. What strange things one starts thinking!
The car stereo was out of order. God knew how much the repair would cost. Only last week, he had to dole out eleven hundred rupees for the repair of his wife’s mobile. The prices of petrol were rising like the population. The ever increasing expenses had made Joginder Singh’s life difficult. Then the home was like a well, no matter how much you throw into it, it never fills up.
Joginder Singh didn’t earn much in this office. He had tried a number of times to get a posting at Focal point division. But the division, being a lucrative one, had a long queue. Joginder Singh wiped the sweat off his face and neck with the towel.
The peon returned alone. SDO Sahib saw it and flames erupted in his body.
‘Where is the mechanic?’
‘Sir, I have told Raja Electricals. Their man was already out. He said he would send him right away when he comes back.’
‘Is there no other shop in the city?’
‘Sir Raja has the bill book. Then, his man knows the work best.’
SDO Sahib shook his head in disagreement. ‘Ok, if Bade Sahib asks for me, tell him that I am visiting Civil Lines cash collection centre.’ He stood up, and went out of the room.
When he entered the car, he almost repented. Quickly, he turned on the AC. Streaks of coolness began to appear in the hot air. Joginder Singh felt a little better. He drove the car out of the office and took the route to the insurance company building. Two kilometres later, he turned into a narrow street that was a shortcut to his destination.
He had driven only three hundred metres or so when he had to push the brakes. In front of him stood a bull hindering his way. A bull as white as his Zen. Joginder Singh’s hand was on the horn. ‘Sister-fucker wouldn’t have a sense of horns,’ he muttered. They ought to be shot, he thought. Why were they left on the roads to harass people?
Another car had stalled behind his. Both the cars were blaring but the bull was oblivious. Also, it stood in the centre in such a way that though the two-wheelers could move on, the four-wheelers couldn’t.
A car from the opposite side joined the chorus.
No sooner you go bald than it hails, Joginder Singh realized once again. Nothing makes a difference to it, he thought. How he stood in blitheness! Whether anyone dies, what difference does it make to him?
Joginder Singh mused that it had no worries. No vexations. It stood in merriment under the sun raining fire. It didn’t have a Bade Sahib. Neither any Daljit Kaur. If I were a bull…
SDO Sahib got scared of his line of thinking.
He shook his head in disbelief. True, a man turned insane at the slightest discomfiture.
Joginder reigned in the irresponsible thought of his and saddled the stallion of his success. A riskshaw-rehri man had steered the bull to a side with a stick. SDO Sahib put his weight on the accelerator and his Zen galloped like the stallion of his success.
END
Thanks for reading. If you like it, please take some time to rate or review it on your favourite retailer/forum’s website or on www.goodreads.com.
Other titles by Jasbir S Jagdeo
The Shreds of Character
People didn’t care what she heard, and it was only fair that she didn’t care what they heard. Befitting even. Somehow, it didn’t feel wrong, or disastrous. She knew enough about men now; now she knew how to squeeze happiness out of pain. Then, though her circumspect mother was proud of her and her brother belligerently loved her, they were only shreds of happiness that were not enough reparations.
But he wanted to kill her. How could she do it knowing she had a brother? Didn’t she feel guilty doing it? She thought their father couldn’t do anything. Didn’t she care how her brother would react? Had she no fear of him? That was the only solution: he couldn’t let her live.
Set in a small town of Punjab at the turn of the millennium, The Shreds of Character is the tale of a disgraced family and of an enraged guilt. Available in both ebook and paperback formats.
Broken News: A short story
A Fine Poet: A short story
About the author
As a friend aptly describes: with "the smile of a mischievous child…a younger sibling, punished with the sorrows of adulthood and laid low but not quite vanquished", Jasbir S Jagdeo survives with his wife and children in Ludhiana, India.
Connect with Jasbir S Jagdeo
Jasbir S Jagdeo’s facebook page
Goodreads author profile
https://jasbirjagdeo.blogspot.in