A CAREER

THE Talkative Man said :
Years and years ago I had a shop. It was in those days when Lawley Extension was
not what it is now. It consisted of less than a hundred houses. Market Road being at
least a mile off, the people living in the Extension looked on me as a saviour when I
took up a little building, and on an auspicious day hung up a large board with the
inscription : The National Provision Stores. I went from house to house and secured
orders. I literally examined every pantry in the Extension and filled up the gaps. When
the bell rang for the midday interval at the Extension Elementary School, children
swarmed into my shop and carried off whatever sweets, ribbons and fancy stationery I
happened to keep. I did about twenty- five rupees credit and ten rupees cash sales
every day. This gave us at least fifty rupees a month to live on. We paid a rent of five
rupees and took a small house in Kabir Street, which was over a mile from my shop.
I left at seven in the morning and returned home only at nine in the evening, after
clearing the daily accounts. A year and a half passed thus. One day a young fellow
presented himself at my shop. He looked about twenty, very fair and bright. He wore a
spotless dhoti and shirt.
" What can I do for you ? " I asked, taking him to be a young customer.
In answer he brought his palms together in salute and said, " I need your help, sir. I will
do whatever work you may give me in return for a little food and shelter and kindness."
There was something in the young fellow's personality which appealed to me.
Moreover, he had on his forehead three-finger width of sacred ash and a dot of
vermilion between his eyebrows. He looked as if he had just come from a temple.
" I am very God-fearing, sir, and susceptible to religious influences."
I spoke to him for about an hour.
He said he belonged to a family of wealthy land- holders in a village near Trichinopoly.
His mother died some years before. His father took a mistress who ill-treated the boy
and consequently he ran away from home.
A touching story I felt.
I directed him to my house. When I went home in the evening I found that he had
already made himself a great favourite there. His life story had deeply moved my wife.
" So young ! " she whispered to me, " and to think that he should be left at this age
without a father or a mother ! " she sighed. He had made himself lovable in a dozen
ways already. He had taken my little son out for a walk.
The youngster cried as soon as he came home, " Let Ramu stay in our house. He is
great. He knows magic and can tame tigers and elephants." Ramu walked into the
kitchen and offered assistance. At first my wife protested,
" Why won't you allow me to go near the oven, Mother ? " he asked. " Is it because you
think I can't cook ? Give me a chance and see."
He. made a dash for the bathroom, turned the tap on himself, and came out dripping.
He took a handful of sacred ash and smeared it on his forehead. My wife was
tremendously impressed. She let him do the cooking.
He prepared delicious food for us. We were all very pleased. After that he helped my
wife with all the cleaning and scrubbing. He slept at night on the bare floor, refusing the
mat and the pillow we offered.
He was the first to be up next morning. He lit the stove and woke up my wife. At
midday he brought me my food. While I ate he attended to the school children, who
came into the shop. He handed them their knick-knacks with an expert hand. He
charmed and amused them. He made them laugh. He beguiled them with an
alternative when he had not on hand what they wanted.
It was inevitable that in a month he should be sharing with me the shop work. He had
attractive ways about him. Customers liked to talk to him. Within a short time there was
not a single home in the Extension where he was not treated as a member of the
family. He knew the inside story of every family. He served every one to the best of his
capacity. Here he helped a man with his garden, and there he pleaded with a house-
building contractor and had an estimate revised. He patched up quarrels. He tamed
truants and sent them to school. He took part in all the extra-curricular activities of the
Extension Elementary School. He took an interest in the Club Movement. He dressed
himself up for the occasion when the inspector visited the school, and arranged for the
supply of garlands and flowers. And all this in addition to assisting me in the shop. He
went every day to the market and purchased provisions from the wholesale merchants,
sat down for hours on end in the shop and handed out things to customers, pored over
the accounts till late at night, and collected all the bills.
As a result of Ramu's presence my business increased nearly tenfold. I had abundant
rest now, I left the shop entirely in his hands. I went home for food at midday. After that
I slept till three in the afternoon. And then I went to the shop, but stayed there only till
five o'clock, when I went to an open space near by and played badminton with some
friends. I came to the shop again only at seven in the evening.
Once or twice I and my wife talked over the matter and tried to fix up a monthly pay for
Ramu. We felt we ought not to be exploiting Ramu's friendliness. But when the subject
was mentioned Ramu grew red in the face and said, " If you don't want me to stay with
you any more, you may talk of salary again. . . ."
Five years passed thus. He aged with us. He lived with us through all our joys and
sorrows. I had four children now. My business had prospered enormously. We were
now living in a bigger house in the same street. I took the shop building on a long
lease. I had an immense stock of all kinds of provisions and goods.
I extended my business. I purchased large quantities of butter in all the nearby villages
and sold them to butter and ghee merchants in Madras. This business gave me large
profits. It kept me running between the villages and Madras. The shop was entirely in
Ramu's hands. At Madras I used to stop with a merchant in George Town. Once work
kept me on there a little longer than I had anticipated. One evening just as I was
starting out to post a letter for Ramu, a telegraph messenger stepped off his cycle and
gave me an envelope. I tore open the cover and read : " Father dying of cholera. Must
go at once. Return immediately. Ramu."
The next morning at five o'clock I got down at Malgudi. Ramu was at the station. He
was going to Trichinopoly by the same train. The train halted only for a few minutes.
Red-eyed and sobbing Ramu said, " My father, father, cholera. Never thought he would
get it. . . ." I consoled him. I had never seen him so broken. I said feebly, " He will be all
right, don't worry. ..." I had hardly the heart to ask him about the shop. He himself said,
" I have handed the keys to mother, and all the accounts and cash also. . . ."
" All right, all right, I will look to all that. Don't worry," I said.
The guard blew his whistle. Ramu jumped into a third class compartment. The train
jerked forward. He put his head out of the window and said, " I will be back tomorrow
by the night train, if my father gets better. . . . Whatever happens, I won't be away for
more than fifteen days. Kittu has asked me to bring him ..." his voice and face receded
" a wooden elephant on wheels. Please tell him that I will surely bring it. My
namaskarams to mother. . . ."
Tears rolled down his cheeks. Even long after the train had left the platform he was still
looking out of the window and gesticulating to indicate " I will surely be back soon. . . ."
Having some unfinished Madras business on hand, I could hardly go near the shop for
a week. When I reopened, the first thing that I noticed was that the shop was empty.
Except for a bag of coarse rice and a few bars of cheap soap, all the racks and
containers were empty. I picked up the books and examined them. The entries were all
in a mess. I put them away. Replenishing the stock was more urgent. I made out a list
and went to the market.
Sadik Sait, my wholesale supplier, squatted amidst his cushions and welcomed me
warmly. I owed my start in life to the unlimited credit he allowed me. After some
preliminary, inconsequential talk, I put before him the list. He scrutinized it gloomily and
shook his head.
He said, " You want goods for about three hundred rupees. I wouldn't advise you to put
up your dues. Why don't you take fifty-rupees worth now? I am suggesting this only for
your own convenience . . ."
This was the first time in my life that he had spoken to me in this manner. And he
explained, " Don't mistake me, friend. You are a business man, so am I. No use talking
indirectly and vaguely. I will tell you what the matter is. Your account with us stands at
Rs. 3,500 and if you had paid at least a single instalment for these three months, we
should have felt happier. . . ."
"But, Sait, last month I sent four-hundred to be given to you, and the month before
three-hundred and fifty, and the month before. . . . There must be only a balance of. ..."
He took out his ledger. There was only one payment made for four months when the
bill stood at about a thousand. After that there had been purchases almost every day
for about forty rupees.
" The young fellow said that business was very brisk and that you would clear the
accounts when you returned from Madras."
My head swam. " I will see you again, I said, and went back to the shop.
I once again examined the books. The pages showed a lot of arrears to be collected.
Next day I went round to collect all my bills. People looked surprised, " There must be
some mistake. We paid our bills completely a fortnight ago. Otherwise Ramu wouldn't
leave us in peace."
My wife said, " In your absence he was coming home nearly at twelve every night. He
used to tell me that the accounts kept him late. ' How was business today ? ' I
unfailingly asked every day. He replied, Business is good, bad, good and bad. Don't
worry. Leave it all to me. I will manage.' "
An old man of Lawley Extension asked me, " Where is that boy you had ? "
I told him.
" Look here," the old man said. " Keep this to yourself. You remember there lived next
door to us those people from Hyderabad ? "
" Yes, yes. . . ."
" Your boy was gadding about with them a little too much. You know there was a tall,
pretty girl with them. Your fellow was taking her out every evening in a taxi. He closed
the shop promptly at six in the evening. Those people went back to Hyderabad a few
days ago."
Later on I made enquiries in Market Road and learnt that Ramu had had stitched four
tweed suits, eighteen silk shirts and other clothes worth about a hundred rupees,
purchased leather suitcases, four pairs of pump shoes, two pairs of velvet slippers, a
wrist watch, two rings, a brooch, silk sarees, blouse pieces, and so on. I got in touch
with a near relative of Ramu's employed in a bank in Madras. I learnt that his old father
was hale and hearty, and there was no mention of cholera. Above all, Ramu was never
known to have visited Trichinopoly. His whereabouts were unknown. The letter
concluded : " Someone recently returned from a tour mentioned that he thought he
caught a glimpse of Ramu in a large gathering during some music festival in Hydera-
bad. He was, however, not very certain about it. . . ."
I sold my shop and everything, paid off my creditors, and left Malgudi. I was a
bankrupt, with a wife and four children to support. We moved from place to place, living
on the charity of friends, relatives, and unknown people. Sometimes nobody would
feed us and we threw ourselves down in a dark corner of some rest-house, and my
ragged children cried till sleep overcame them. I needn't weary you with an account of
my struggles. It is another story. I must tell you about Ramu. I have to add only this
about my own career. Four years later I came across a coffee-estate owner in Mempi
Hills, and he gave me a fresh start ; and I must say, thanks to him, I have done very
well indeed in the coffee trade.
Now about Ramu. A year ago I was panting up the steps of Thirupathi Hills. I had a
vow to fulfil at the temple. I had passed two thousand steps when a familiar voice
assailed my ears from among the group of mendicants lining the steps. I stopped and
turned. And there he was, I could hardly recognize him now. I had seen him off at
Malgudi station ten years before. His face was now dark, scarred and pitted. His eyes
were fixed in a gaze. I should have passed him without noticing if he hadn't called out
for alms. His voice was still unchanged. I stopped and said, " Look here."
" I can't see, I am blind."
" Who are you ? Where do you come from ? " I asked in a voice which I tried to
disguise with a little gruffness.
" Go, go your way. Why do you want to know all that ? " he said.
I had often boasted that if I met him I would break his bones first ; but this was not at all
how I had hoped to see him again. I felt very confused and unhappy. I dropped a coin
on his upraised palm and passed on. But after moving up a few steps I stopped and
beckoned to another beggar sitting by his side. He came up. I held up an anna coin
before him and said, " You may have this if you will tell me something about that blind
man. . . ."
" I know him," said this beggar, who had no arms. " We keep together. He has arms,
but no eyes ; I have eyes, but no arms, and so we find each other helpful. We move
about together. He is not a beggar like me, but a sanyasi. He came here two years
ago. He had once much money in Hyderabad, Delhi, Benares or somewhere. Smallpox
took away his sight. His wife, a bad sort, deserted him. He is vexed with the world.
Some pilgrims coming from the North brought him here. . . . But, surely you won't tell
him I have spoken all this ? He becomes wild if those days are mentioned. . . ."
I went back to Ramu, stood before him and watched him for a moment. I felt like
shouting. " Ramu, God has punished you enough. Now come with me. Where is your
sweetheart? Where is my money? What devil seized you ? "
But I checked myself. I felt that the greatest kindness I could do him was to leave him
alone. I silently placed a rupee on his outstretched palm, and raced up the steps. At
the bend I turned my head and had another look at him. And that was the last I saw of
him. For when I returned that way four days later, he was not to be seen. Perhaps he
had moved on to another place with his armless companion.