The newspaper was bringing out in serial form brief accounts of the lives of a class of people engaged in diligent labour and earning low incomes. Gatekeepers of cinema halls, the chanawalla, the night chowkidar, the tailor, the boy at the stall, the handyman of a bus and all such folks were to be presented as heroes of the serialised compositions. The owner of the newspaper and the editor wanted that there should be some measure of discussion about the lower class of people in society who remain in the background; the reading public ought to be introduced to their means of livelihood. A picture of their joys and sorrows, the tears and laughter of this class ought to be presented to the common man.
This particular column had become very popular. A photo of gate-keeper Horeswar standing on a bright afternoon in front of the open doors of an empty cinema hall has appeared; the story of his major grievance that he had never been able to see the beginning and end half of most of the pictures had been published. With the tin of chana hanging from his shoulder, the photo of moustachioed Ram Prasad has been featured with an interesting account that his children are not at all keen about chana. An amusing description of night chowkidar Krishna Bahadur’s life, who lived with his wife in a house three miles away from the office, and their fanciful adjustments in considering the day as night and the night as day, had also been published. An assessment of the satisfaction that the tailor Niranjan derives on seeing the smiling young girls wearing the blouses that he had stitched as they walk past his shop, had also been made in the column. The account that Rajen, the hotel boy, who always had an upset stomach whenever he drank more than two cups of tea a day had even found expression. An attempt had been made to psychologically analyse the peculiar behaviour of Nurul the handyman who loved to hang from the door of the bus even though there were many vacant seats inside.
This column has really gained in popularity. In the last issue it had been announced – “In the forthcoming issue: Press Compositor Jadav Das.”
Jadav Das works in the press of a newspaper. “In the forthcoming issue: Press Compositor Jadav Das” – when the draft of this topic came out from the editor’s cubicle there was almost a furore amidst the seventeen compositors. Many of them cried out – Jadav will have to treat them to tea and snacks. A full page on Jadav Das, along with a photograph, would be featured on page fifteen – it was no joke! Somebody asked – “In the next issue” etc could this line be composed using the forty sixth point?
The people were quite happy about it. Jadav deserved this honour. Though he had only recently joined this press, he was a very old and experienced compositor. Working till the wee hours of the morning with the light in his left hand and forceps in his right hand, climbing on top of the machine and making corrections till the last moment; Jadav Das was popular and amiable. He was the first secretary of the union of workers of the press established this year.
Jadav’s mind was filled with a mild excitement. He had composed many topics, many a tale had passed through his fingers, but his name had never appeared in printed letters. This time there will be a whole page on him. What would be written?
The paper is published on Sunday. On Thursday morning, a photographer of the organisation arrived at Jadav Das’ house. A photograph of Jadav could have been snapped in the premises of the press but the editor wanted that a family photograph of Jadav Das be published. The cameraman told Jadav to be ready before he arrived. There was not much that Jadav needed to get ready but his wife had been busy with herself and the children preparing for the photograph. She dressed up her children very carefully with whatever clothes they possessed, trying to make them as presentable as possible. She applied oil on their hair and then rubbed her oily palms on their faces, arms and the portion below their knees. “Now don’t run around” – she warned the children and then turned her attention to herself. She was worried that the children would spoil their clothes as they skipped and ran about. She had been longing for a photograph with her husband and children for a long time and so, very eagerly, began to get ready. Moreover, this photo would appear in the newspaper, lakhs and lakhs would see it; – the woman’s heart seemed to beat very fast at times.
That night, an assistant editor summoned Jadav to his cubicle and asked a lot of things about his life.
On Friday night Jadav saw a copy of the photograph. The photo came out very well. This was indeed something that he had gained. He personally could never have been able to make arrangements for such a photograph. The block had already been prepared and so Jadav asked and took the copy of the photo.
On Saturday the draft of the introduction of Jadav’s life came out from the editor’s cubicle. It was decided by all the compositors that Jadav be allowed to compose the write-up on his life.
A little shyly, Jadav began to work on it. Before looking for the letters in the cases he once read the whole write-up. He was very eager to know what was written about him. In his enthusiasm he finished reading the whole page within a very short time. But the moment he finished reading, his face became grave and solemn.
Remaining motionless for some time, he began to work on the write-up. Picking up the letters one by one, he began to compose the details of his own life that had been written by some other person. The precise time he took to prepare every word kept him engrossed in his thoughts for the same period. One by one, each of the sentences passed through his fingers and each of the sentences pierced him like a pin-prick. Gradually he began to feel very uneasy, disturbed and frustrated and towards midnight, when he finished composing the last paragraph, he was becoming angry.
Why write a pack of lies?
Many articles about eminent people had passed through Jadav’s fingers, how much truth was there in all that and how much lies, he did not have the means to find out at that time. But something that was to be published about his own life, which was very untrue, after passing through his own fingers was something that he would not tolerate.
When the last part of the proof came out from the editor’s cubicle for correction, Jadav became very restless. He was an expert compositor and there were almost no mistakes in the proof; barring a few anomalies in semicolons and commas.
The last block was inserted into the machine on the last night! On Saturday the late night’s duty fell on Jadav alone. He got a break of two hours for dinner. Tonight at midnight, before compiling the last block, Jadav took up some letters in his left hand and the forceps in his right and approached the block. He would make the real corrections now!
If such lies were to be published, many expert compositors like him would be maligned. It had already been stated in the life story – Jadav is a skilled and straightforward compositor.
In one place it said – working throughout the night, Jadav would come back to the press the next morning with a smile.
Jadav replaced the word smile with sullen.
It was written below the photo – Jadav Das’ happy family – with his wife, two sons and a daughter!
Jadav changed the word happy to sad.
Another point said – with the little income earned Jadav’s wife was always contented –
Jadav turned contented to discontented.
In another place it said –Jadav Das believed from his long experience that one day there would open a new path before him. Jadav changed the new path to dead end.
In one place – after the day’s work Jadav derived much peace on seeing his children, he changed the word peace to torment.
Making all the corrections, Jadav Das stuffed all the papers of the first proof into his pocket. He would take them home and set fire to them.
