ENGINE TROUBLE

THERE came down to our town some years ago (said the Talkative Man) a showman
owning an institution called the Gaiety Land. Overnight our Gymkhana Grounds
became resplendent with banners and streamers and coloured lamps. From all over
the district crowds poured into the show. Within a week of opening, in gate money
alone they collected nearly five hundred rupees a day. Gaiety Land provided us with all
sorts of fun and gambling and side-shows. For a couple of annas in each booth we
could watch anything from performing parrots to crack motor cyclists looping the loop
in the Dome of Death. In addition to this there were lotteries and shooting galleries
where for an anna you always stood a chance of winning a hundred rupees.
There was a particular corner of the show which was in great favour. Here for a ticket
costing eight annas you stood a chance of acquiring a variety of articles pincushions,
sewing machines, cameras or even a road engine. On one evening they drew a ticket
number 1005, and I happened to own the other half of the ticket. Glancing down the list
of articles they declared that I became the owner of the road engine ! Don't ask me
how a road engine came to be included among the prizes. It is more than I can tell you.
I looked stunned. People gathered around and gazed at me as if I were some curious
animal. " Fancy anyone becoming the owner of a road engine ! " some persons
muttered and giggled.
It was not the sort of prize one could carry home at short notice. I asked the showman
if he would help me to transport it. He merely pointed at a notice which decreed that all
winners should remove the prizes immediately on drawing and by their own effort.
However they had to make an exception in my case. They agreed to keep the engine
on the Gymkhana Grounds till the end of their season and then I would have to make
my own arrangements to take it out. When I asked the showman if he could find me a
driver he just smiled : " The fellow who brought it here had to be paid a hundred rupees
for the job and five rupees a day. I sent him away and made up my mind that if no one
was going to draw it, I would just leave it to its fate. I got it down just as a novelty for
the show. God ! What a bother it has proved ! "
" Can't I sell it to some municipality ? " I asked innocently. He burst into a laugh. " As a
showman I have enough troubles with municipal people. I would rather keep out of
their way. . . ."
My friends and well-wishers poured in to congratulate me on my latest acquisition. No
one knew precisely how much a road engine would fetch; all the same they felt that
there was a lot of money in it. " Even if you sell it as scrap iron you can make a few
thousands," some of my friends declared.
Every day I made a trip to the Gymkhana Grounds to have a look at my engine. I grew
very fond of it. I loved its shining brass parts. I stood near it and patted it affectionately,
hovered about it, and returned home every day only at the close of the show. I was a
poor man. I thought that after all my troubles were coming to an end. How ignorant we
are ! How little did I guess that my troubles had just begun.
When the showman took down his booths and packed up, I received a notice from the
municipality to attend to my road engine. When I went there next day it looked forlorn
with no one about. The ground was littered with torn streamers and paper decorations.
The showman had moved on, leaving the engine where it stood. It was perfectly safe
anywhere !
I left it alone for a few days, not knowing what to do with it. I received a notice from the
municipality ordering that the engine should at once be removed from the ground as
otherwise they would charge rent for the occupation of the Gymkhana Grounds. After
deep thought I consented to pay the rent, and I paid ten rupees a month for the next
three months. Dear sirs, I was a poor man. Even the house which I and my wife
occupied cost me only four rupees a month. And fancy my paying ten rupees a month
for the road engine. It cut into my slender budget, and I had to pledge a jewel or two
belonging to my wife ! And every day my wife was asking me what I proposed to do
with this terrible property of mine and I had no answer to give her. I went up and down
the town offering it for sale to all and sundry. Someone suggested that the Secretary of
the local Cosmopolitan Club might be interested in it. When I approached him he
laughed and asked what he should do with a road engine. " I'll dispose of it at a
concession for you. You have a tennis court to be rolled every morning/' I began, and
even before I saw him smile
I knew it was a stupid thing to say. Next someone suggested, " See the Municipal
Chairman. He may buy it for the municipality." With great trepidation I went to the
municipal office one day. I buttoned up my coat as I entered the Chairman's room and
mentioned my business. I was prepared to give away the engine at a great concession.
I started a great harangue on municipal duties, the regime of this chairman, and the
importance of owning a road roller but before I was done with him I knew there was
greater chance of my selling it to some child on the roadside for playing with.
I was making myself a bankrupt maintaining this engine in the Gymkhana Grounds. I
really hoped some day there would come my way a lump sum and make amends for
all this deficit and suffering. Fresh complications arose when a cattle show came in the
offing. It was to be held on the grounds. I was given twenty-four hours for getting the
thing out of the ground. The show was opening in a week and the advance party was
arriving and insisted upon having the engine out of the way. I became desperate ;
there was not a single person for fifty miles around who knew anything about a road
engine. I begged and cringed every passing bus driver to help me ; but without use. I
even approached the station master to put in a word with the mail engine driver.
But the engine driver pointed out that he had his own locomotive to mind and couldn't
think of jumping off at a wayside station for anybody's sake. Meanwhile the municipality
was pressing me to clear out. I thought it over. I saw the priest of the local temple and
managed to gain his sympathy. He offered me the services of his temple elephant. I
also engaged fifty coolies to push the engine from behind. You may be sure this
drained all my resources. The coolies wanted eight annas per head and the temple
elephant cost me seven rupees a day and I had to give it one feed. My plan was to
take the engine out of the gymkhana and then down the road to a field half a furlong
off. The field was owned by a friend. He would not mind if I kept the engine there for a
couple of months, when I could go to Madras and find a customer for it.
I also took into service one Joseph, a dismissed bus-driver who said that although he
knew nothing of road rollers he could nevertheless steer one if it was somehow kept in
motion.
It was a fine sight : the temple elephant yoked to the engine by means of stout ropes,
with fifty determined men pushing it from behind, and my friend Joseph sitting in the
driving seat. A huge crowd stood around and wa,tched in great glee. The engine began
to move. It seemed to me the greatest moment in my life. When it came out of the
gym- khana and reached the road it began to behave in a strange manner. Instead of
going straight down the road it showed a tendency to wobble and move zig-zag.
The elephant dragged it one way, Joseph turned the wheel for all he was worth without
any idea of where he was going, and fifty men behind it clung to it in every possible
manner and pushed it just where they liked. As a result of all this confused dragging
the engine ran straight into the opposite compound wall and reduced a good length of
it to powder. At this the crowd let out a joyous yell. The elephant, disliking the
behaviour of the crowd, trumpeted loudly, strained and snapped its ropes and kicked
down a further length of the wall. The fifty men fled in panic, the crowd created a
pandemonium. Someone slapped me in the face it was the owner of the compound
wall. The police came on the scene and marched me off.
When I was released from the lock-up I found the following consequences awaiting me
: (i) Several yards of compound wall to be built by me. (2) Wages of fifty men who ran
away. They would not explain how they were entitled to the wages when they had not
done their job. (3) Joseph's fee for steering the engine over the wall. (4) Cost of
medicine for treating the knee of the temple elephant which had received some injuries
while kicking down the wall. Here again the temple authorities would not listen when I
pointed out that I didn't engage an elephant to break a wall. (5) Last, but not the least,
the demand to move the engine out of its present station.
Sirs, I was a poor man. I really could not find any means of paying these bills. When I
went home my wife asked : " What is this I hear about you everywhere ? " I took the
opportunity to explain my difficulties.
She took it as a hint that I was again asking for her jewels, and she lost her temper and
cried that she would write to her father to come and take her away.
I was at my .wit's end. People smiled at me when they met me in the streets. I was
seriously wondering why I should not run away to my village. I decided to encourage
my wife to write to her father and arrange for her exit. Not a soul was going to know
what my plans were. I was going to put off my creditors and disappear one fine night.
At this point came an unexpected relief in the shape of a Swamiji. One fine evening
under the distinguished patronage of our Municipal Chairman a show was held in our
small town hall. It was a free performance and the hall was packed with people. I sat in
the gallery. Spellbound we witnessed the Swamiji's yogic feats. He bit off glass
tumblers and ate them with contentment ; he lay on spike boards ; gargled and drank
all kinds of acids ; licked white-hot iron rods ; chewed and swallowed sharp nails ;
stopped his heart-beat, and buried himself underground. We sat there and watched
him in stupefaction. At the end of it all he got up and delivered a speech in which he
declared that he was carrying on his master's message to the people in this manner.
His performance was the more remarkable because he had nothing to gain by all this
extraordinary meal except the satisfaction of serving humanity, and now he said he
was coming to the very masterpiece and the last act.
He looked at the Municipal Chairman and asked : " Have you a road engine ? I would
like to have it driven over my chest." The chairman looked abashed and felt ashamed
to acknowledge that he had none. The Swamiji insisted, " I must have a road engine."
The Municipal Chairman tried to put him off by saying, " There is no driver." The
Swamiji replied, " Don't wvorry about it. My assistant has been trained to handle any
kind of road engine." At this point I stood up in the gallery and shouted, " Don't ask
him for an engine. Ask me. . . ." In a moment I was on the stage and became as
important a person as the fire-eater himself. I was pleased with the recognition I now
received from all quarters. The Municipal Chairman went into the background. In return
for lending him the engine he would drive it where I wanted. Though I felt inclined to
ask for a money contribution I knew it would be useless to expect it from one who was
on a missionary work.
Soon the whole gathering was at the compound wall opposite to the Gymkhana.
Swamiji's assistant was an expert in handling engines. In a short while my engine
stood steaming up proudly. It was a gratifying sight. The Swamiji called for two pillows,
placed one near his head and the other at his feet. He gave detailed instructions as to
how the engine should be run over him. He made a chalk mark on his chest and said, "
It must go exactly on this ; not an inch this way or that." The engine hissed and waited.
The crowd watching the show became suddenly unhappy and morose. This seemed to
be a terrible thing to be doing. The Swami lay down on the pillows and said, " When I
say Om, drive it on."
He closed his eyes. The crowd watched tensely. I looked at the whole show in absolute
rapture after all, the road engine was going to get on the move.
At this point a police inspector came into the crowd with a brown envelope in his hand.
He held up his hand, beckoned to the Swamiji's assistant, and said : " I am sorry I have
to tell you that you can't go on with this. The magistrate has issued an order pro-
hibiting the engine from running over him." The Swamiji picked himself up. There was a
lot of commotion. The Swamiji became indignant. " I have done it in hundreds of places
already and nobody questioned me about it. Nobody can stop me from doing what I
like it's my master's order to demonstrate the power of the Yoga to the people of this
country, and who can question me ? "
" A magistrate can/* said the police inspector, and held up the order. " What business
is it of yours or his to interfere in this manner ? " "I don't know all that ; this is his order.
He permits you to do everything except swallow potassium cyanide and run this engine
over your chest. You are free to do whatever you like outside our jurisdiction."
" I am leaving this cursed place this very minute' the Swamiji said in great rage, and
started to go, followed by his assistant. I gripped his assistant's arm and said, " You
have steamed it up. Why not take it over to that field and then go." He glared at me,
shook off my hand and muttered, " With my Guru so unhappy, how dare you ask me to
drive ? " He went away. I muttered,"You can't drive it except over his chest, I suppose?
I made preparations to leave the town in a couple of days, leaving the engine to its
fate, with all its commitments. However, Nature came to my rescue in an unexpected
manner. You may have heard of the earthquake of that year which destroyed whole
towns in Northern India. There was a reverberation of it in our town, too. We were
thrown out of our beds that night, and doors and windows rattled.
Next morning I went over to take a last look at my engine before leaving the town. I
could hardly believe my eyes. The engine was not there. I looked about and raised a
hue and cry. Search parties went round. And the engine was found in a disused well
near by, with its back up. I prayed to heaven to save me from fresh complications. But
the owner of the house when he came round and saw what had happened, laughed
heartily and beamed at me : " You have done me a service. It was the dirtiest water on
earth in that well and the municipality was sending notice to close it, week after week. I
was dreading the cost of closing, but your engine fits it like a cork. Just leave it there."
" But, but . . ."
" There are no buts. I will withdraw all complaints and charges against you, and build
that broken wall myself, but only leave the thing there."
" That's hardly enough." I mentioned a few other expenses that this engine had brought
on me. He agreed to pay for all that.
When I again passed that way some months later I peeped over the wall. I found the
mouth of the well neatly cemented up. I heaved a sigh of great relief.