THE dawn broke to find Diwan Gopichand's family in the throes of a great turmoil. They were late risers, normally, but this day the young as well as the old were on their legs before the cock crowed. Even Diwan Sahib himself was astir and bustling. He usually spent three hours praying in bed, reciting from scriptures and chanting hymns and Shah Lateef's verses. He would then wrap himself up in an old, merino shawl and stroll about in the courtyard, stroking, massaging and coaxing his round belly.

But this morning he was on a holiday from his gurus and Pirs, nay, even from his chronic constipation. He was fussing around, issuing orders like an excited foreman. The neighbours were all feeling mystified over this strange hullabaloo in that house.

The fact was that after prolonged cogitation of some ten years, Diwan Sahib had at last decided to shift his old furniture that had accompanied him on his migration to Ajmer for permanent rehabilitation in Delhi. As long as he was employed in the External Affairs Ministry, he had entire routine of discussion, consultation and deliberation. He had retained his job by annual extension, which dragged on for four years, after he was due to retire. Now two years had elapsed since his actual retirement, but the question of his pension which
had been responsible for the extension of his service remained unsettled.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the face of the momentous problems with which the Government is saddled. Fortunately, Diwan Sahib's two sons were now fixed up in Government service at Delhi and they had also been allotted a residential flat. There could be, therefore, no valid objection against migrating, bag and baggage, from Ajmer. Like the five-year plan, however, only a phased programme could implement this decision.

The shifting of furniture received top priority. This was the reason why the courtyard had become the venue of a heap of chairs, tables and sundry items of furniture. Diwan Sahib's wife, Popatibai, flung a cursory glance on that dump and took out a pinch of snuff to stifle her surging doubts and regrets. She said
to her husband, "Look, Anand's father, this chair lost its seat twelve years back. You did not care to have it replaced when times were more prosperous. What is the use now of transporting this crippled chair?"

"Anand's mother, just think, how would you feel if I decide tomorrow to throw you out on the plea that you have become an old, ricketty hag, a useless liability? You have spent your whole life with a judicious magistrate like me. You are fully aware of my views and my temperament. Why then this silly prattle?"

Flinging around her slightly bent arm disdainfully, she snapped, "All right, I am a fool. But is not your wonderful head also cluttered with wisdom as antiquated and useless as that heap of junk?"

Their daughter, Kamla, butted in "Daddy, this teapoy is one leg short, and white ants have gnawed into the other leg!"

Diwan Sahib explained patiently, "Child, what do you know about these things? When you were just a tiny tot crawling on the floor, I used to sit at the same teapoy referring to various sections of the Indian Penal Code and write down my court verdicts. Once I sentenced even a big gun like Rais Juman Khan to six
months' imprisonment. I can see now the face of Juman Khan mirrored on that teapoy, always reminding
us of our past glory!"

Diwan Sahib's younger brother quipped, "Wonderful! Times have changed and our glory has been eaten up by the worms. And our fortune has the look of that one-legged teapoy.

The son stuttered, "B.b.but, you sh.sh.should see how u.useless this armless chair is !"
"Son," Diwan Sahib calmly replied, "If you had not taken care to preserve that chair, your mother would have borne only deaf and dumb children. On, Anand's mother, you tell them how precious this chair really is!"

She frowned back, "Much ado about nothing!" "So you think that you are wiser than me?"

Sharply she retorted. "Had you that wisdom, we would not have been living on mere turnips! Even a petty shopkeeper would have done better than a magistrate like you."

"Well, well, I made a blunder. May be, you would have been kissing my feet if I had accepted bribes and also dumped on you a bunch of defective children in the bargain!"
 
Chatru intervened, "What on earth has the chair to do with children?" The son and the daughter also made the same query.

" All right, sit down on those chairs and listen carefully as I tell you the true story of my life," said Diwan Gopichand as he stated himself on the armless chair. Anand's mother wiped the stuff off her nose with the corner of her scarf and turned to the kitchen with the parting shot, " Anyway, I am fed up with listening to these old fables."

Diwan Sahib, however, continued in an unruffled tone, "Now, listen. When I was first a mere clerk, my palm also itched for bribe. I would not spare a poor man even the last crumb of his bread. I supplemented my meagre income by graft and got this stammering son, Chella, who is also deaf. Later on, as I was
promoted as Tehsilder, my very name was a terror in the tehsil. My superior officers felt pleased with me because I attended to their requirements and would stop at nothing to win their favour.

'Well, one afternoon, as I was sitting on this very chair, little Chella asked me to explain to him the meaning of some words in his text book. I tried to do so at the top of my voice, but he could hardly catch a word of mine. Then I just dozed off. During that siesta I saw in a dream Chella bleeding from his mouth. I woke up in shivers. Much as I tried to resume that dream, I failed.

"In the evening, a big landowner of that tehsil called on me and begged that I should acquit in a case of abduction pending against him. He wanted me to implicate Salih, the oil-miller, instead. No doubt, that would have been sheer injustice as I knew poor Salih to be an honest man. Such perversions of justice, however, were common in feudal Sind. Murderers escaped scotfree and the innocent went to gallows as scapegoats. An evil that has taken roots ceases to be reckoned as evil. The culprits even flaunt themselves on their successful escapades in defeating the ends of justice.

But my conscience revolted and I refused. Wadera Ali Baksh took out hundred rupee note and placed it before me. I looked stern. He took out another note and I turned my face aside. When he brought out the third note, I winced. The fourth note threw me into the turmoil of second thoughts. And when the fifth note came flicking out, I knew that it was death warrant of my honest resolution. I grabbed those notes and stuffed them in my pocket. Those bluish, bright notes were not mere pieces of paper. I saw in them the almirahs and balconies of a new building. I said to myself, if Dame Fortune must insist upon showering gold, who I am to resist ? May be, one day I will own an imposing bungalow in Karachi, even buy a car and my children abroad for higher education. The thought of children did make me wince. I had never before received such a large bribe. It was too much for a petty officer like me. But I made a show of condescension as I took the money from the Wadera. On the next day, I convicted poor Salih and sent him to prison.

"A few days later, as I dozed off again on that chair one hot afternoon, I saw before me an old, frail man leaning on his staff, his hair white as snow an his face furrowed like a brief moment and asked, "Diwan, have you learnt nothing even after you got a deaf son and another dumb son ? Are you piling up your sins just for the sake of those deaf and dumb and gone? Will they plead for you and explain you your behalf
why you oppressed so many innocent people and wronged humanity by patronising evil man?"

"In my dream I replied, `You know, old man, I am neither a debauchee, nor a murderer. I work for my bread. Surely, God Almighty had not run short of good men that I should have been placed on this chair ! Bigger officers than me required to fulfil their wishes. Obviously this cannot be done by strictly following the path of rectitude. Such is the system and we are mere cogs in a machine. Even God creates kites and hawks to prey upon small birds. The lion in the jungle must devour the deer, and the crocodile lives on flesh. There is no third species in this world of strife and struggle. Life itself is a conflict, a deadly conflict, in which the weak are overpowered by the strong. I prefer to be a proud lion rather than surrender myself as
a morsel for satisfying the strongman's appetite. Faith and justice, truth and honesty are meaningless words in the world we have inherited. The fool who chases the illusion of these catchwords will only suffer travail and humiliation throughout his life. Really, an honest person has no place in this society. I know that this system is evil. But, then, am I the Creator who has dumped such a vicious world? And have I the power to change it ? A mere mortal like me cannot hope to live long enough to efface the inequities of ages. Nonetheless, I am willing to renounce taking bribes if that has the remotest connection with the fact of my children being born deaf and dumb. You have to prove the relevance. Forget not that I am a magistrate who
can accept nothing without proper evidence. It is in my blood to go by facts.'

"As long as I was talking in this manner, the old man was listening with patience. He stood with his head bowed, his eyes glistening with tears. He whispered calmly, almost casually, `Man sins twice when he cites Allah for justifying his transgression. Give up taking bribes and you will have normal children.'

" `Listen, Dervish', I cried, `I am a magistrate, a man who goes by cold facts. Prove it and I will take no bribes. I am not a child who can be coaxed like this to forego what is so lucrative.'
" `Just try twelve months and see the results.'

"The old man disappeared and I opened my eyes. I did really abstain from accepting bribes and till this day I have never taken a pie which was not rightly due to me. I have had nine children since then, but none had any defect. So, children, the old chair you see symbolizes the robustness of your body and bone. Would you like to throw it away, or to cherish it as a part of my flesh?"

All were spellbound after hearing this narration. The daughter leaned over tenderly as Diwan Sahib patted her. Soon all were hustling again with new zeal, shifting the furniture. It as loaded on a bullock-cart and sent to the railway station where it was finally booked for Delhi. When it reached the destination after about a week, Diwan Gopichand received it personally at the goods yard. Alas, the long-distance transport had worked havoc with these relics. The almirah was cracked in the middle, the tables had lost some of their legs and the chairs, which were sandwiched between the tables, had their backs crushed into pieces.

Pondering over this mishap, Diwan Sahib drew within his shell for a moment. Then his heart upheaved, "Why grieve about it, my soul? These wooden relics are only the concrete symbols of your long and colourful life's misty memories. Will you cast away your body because it has become weak and ailing? Yes, these chairs, these tables, all this knickle-knackle form a part of the body with which one lives. Man possesses not only one corporal frame, but many more; and each one has its own significance, its priceless value."
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From 'Sindhi Short Stories'          Home