DIGNITY OF RICHNESS

“Diyar-e-ishq mein apna maqam paid kar

Naya zamana, naye subah-o-shaam paida kar

 

Khuda agar dil-e-fitrat shanas de tujh ko

Sakoot-e-lala-o-gul se kalaam paida kar

 

Mera tareeq ameeri nahin, faqeeri hai,

Khudi na bech, ghareebi mein, naam paid kar” 

Build in love’s empire your hearth and your home,

Build time anew, a new dawn, a new eve!

Your speech, if God gives the friendship of Nature,

From the rose and tulip’s long silence weave

 

The way of the hermit, not fortune, is mine;

Sell not your soul! in a beggar’s rags, shine

Visheshwar Rao was reading these verses from the dog-eared page of Sir Mohammad Iqbal’s book that his father Parmeshwar Rao used to read regularly. He placed the book respectfully back on the lavish mahogany office table once used by his father. He had not replaced anything on the table or in the small office space that was maintained and left behind by his father. He followed his father’s ideology and tried to emulate the qualities inherited from him, which he considered as the real assets of his life.

Visheshwar Rao then laid himself back on the big swivel chair, putting his hands behind his head and ruminating. He looked emotionally at the assets around him that suddenly looked meaningless to him without his father, despite being invaluable for its rich legacy. He looked at the old wooden chair in which his father used to sit and administer the day to day affairs of the company. These assets had served well its purpose for years; he thought of the huge industrial steel unit that was borne out of this small office that he still retained without altering its originality. You toil hard to make them for once and they make you consistently thereafter.  

Visheshwar Rao had even set aside all suggestions from the board of directors to give a new outlook to the office. “Originality is the symbol of your humanity and humility, it is the power of your character that provides you stability and empowers you to grow exponentially. It serves as a memoir of your past history and it never lets your future to get contaminated by arrogance.” His father Parmeshwar Rao’s voice reverberated in his mind. His father had never returned after leaving the office one evening. Lots of efforts were made to find him, but he couldn’t be found anywhere. Ultimately, everybody thought that he was long dead, but Visheshwar Rao refused to believe in their idea. His intuitive mind told him that he would come back some day. It was some ten years back when his father had passed on the reins to him at the age of twenty and he had made news becoming the youngest steel magnate of the country.

Visheshwar Rao remembered how his father refused to change his decision even when the entire administrative staff and board of directors asked him to seriously reconsider his decision to elevate his son to the highest position of Executive Director. Everybody thought that he was making the greatest mistake of his life but he remained adamant. Tears welled up in his eyes whenever he thought of the significant moment that changed his life forever. He suddenly jumped up from his chair and took out his personal diary from the table drawer and started to turn over the pages rapidly. Then, he stopped at the page where he had jotted down the sermon of his father on Originality. He read it over and over again and thought that there was some hidden message in it. His eyes had a mysterious glint as he carefully put the diary back into the drawer. He decided to go home early that evening. The entire office staff stood up to look at him with surprise when they saw him hurrying away. Like father-like son. They still remembered the fateful evening when Parmeshwar Rao had left the office in the same manner but never to return. They wondered if the son was going father’s way. They all looked worried thinking who would run the huge industrial steel unit without anyone at the helm of affairs. 

* * * * *

“Sakshi, please bring me the keys to father’s room.” Visheshwar Rao said in a loud voice.

“You look very impatient today. I never saw you opening this room before. What is in this room that you want to see all of a sudden?” Sakshi said in bewilderment as she quickly handed over the bunch of old keys to him.

Visheshwar Rao neither looked at her, nor did he say anything but grabbed the keys in haste and tried one key after another to open the lock. He was almost frustrated when one of the keys fitted in and he hurriedly moved the latch to one side after freeing up the Harrison lock in a hurry. He gave a push to the door and heavy dust flew up in the air as the creaking door swayed to one side. He stood awestruck at the sight of things stored in the big room. It gave the look of a museum. His wife Sakshi also put her hand on her mouth and let out a faint sound ‘Oh!’ expressing surprise.

“What are these things doing here? Did your father store all these things here? Sakshi asked. She had not even seen her father-in-law when she was married into the family. She had no idea of this room and it had never been opened by anyone.

“It is obvious and who else would come and store all these things here. All these things have a hidden meaning otherwise there was no reason to preserve them in this manner. My father always did things with a purpose. We may soon find something that reveals the mystery of these treasured items.” Visheshwar Rao said with renewed excitement. 

On the facing wall, he saw every kind of cobbler’s tools adorning it with cobwebs running over it– vintage brass and iron tools, metal and wooden hammers, pliers. There were four pairs of worn out shoes kept on a wooden table along with a folded cloth mat that must be used to sit and work. There were many other accessories including taut leather canvas that lay on the floor rolled and bound with a plastic string. There was the cast iron shoe anvil or last with sizes marked on them 22, 17 and 12 cm that served as the shoe repair stand, stitching awl- the pointed hand-tools that cobblers use to pierce holes in leather, knives, scissors, needles with wooden handles and thick wounded bundles of threads, glue and small nails to join the parts together; kept in an open square wooden box. Besides, there were hand-carved wooden foot casts of all sizes – for the left and right foot to support the shoe as it is shaped.

Visheshwar Rao was very curious now and he slowly stepped in followed by his wife who covered her face with her sari to escape the flying dust. As they both moved in, they were surprised to see a cycle-rickshaw parked on the left corner of the room. To his surprise, the tyres were also full with air. They saw a pair of tattered pyjamas a black jockey baniyan and a muffler in a transparent plastic cover that was kept on the torn seat of the rickshaw. On the foot rest platform of the rickshaw, they saw a pair of shabby rubber slippers that were on the verge of breaking up in pieces. They looked closely at these items without touching them. They both moved around to take stock of the things that seemed to be steeped in history.

Visheshwar Rao wondered if all these items were what his father referred to as Originality, the symbol of humanity and humility. He was yet to find a real clue to relate the mystic bond of these things with his father.

Suddenly, Visheshwar Rao pointed out to his wife a diary wrapped in a plastic cover that was kept in a small wooden cupboard. They went near the spot and he picked up the diary and cleared the dust on it with his hands. He then carefully took out the diary from the plastic cover and placed it on the table. He opened the diary and he found his father’s name clearly written on it with other particulars. He turned on another page to read words of wisdom in his father’s handwriting – “Realities of life is for realization of one’s self, which must remain absorbed in the character and when you elevate yourself to a position where others stoop low to respect you; it is a symbolic lesson for you that teaches you to remember your humility.” He had just finished reading the passage from his father’s diary when he heard the sound of descending footsteps landing on the stairs outside the room.

Then, he saw his mother Bhuvneshwari Devi appear outside the room. He was startled to find her there. She looked at them and said, “Son, you should’ve asked me before opening this room. No one is permitted to open it without your father’s permission. I woke up when I heard you asking Sakshi for keys to this room.”

“I know mother but there was something in my mind that I couldn’t resist. We don’t have a clue about father and you tell me of seeking permission from him to open this room. Does this make any sense mother? I thought to take a look and I’m surprised to find all these things here. I’m sure that you must have some clue about these things. I would like to know what you know exactly.” Visheshwar Rao said in a mixture of caustic and gentle tone as he carefully folded the diary and wrapped it back in the plastic cover. 

“Your grandfather Shankar Rao belonged to a wealthy mine owners family. He adopted the profession of a cobbler and left his home to lead a simple life. Your father emulated him in everything and followed in your grandfather’s footsteps and started to drive this cycle-rickshaw to earn a livelihood and finance his own studies.”

“Didn’t grandfather tell father about his rich background?” Visheshwar Rao asked his mother as Sakshi looked upon as a mute spectator.

“Of course, your grandfather told him about his true background and asked your father to claim the legacy that belonged to him. Your father refused and tried his hands at several business ventures and gradually amassed a substantial wealth. Yet he wouldn’t leave this cycle-rickshaw. He started giving free rides to elderly people in the evenings after he became free from his work. He then landed a job with a huge steel magnate who recognized your father’s worth and appointed him as one of the directors of the company and finally one day before the magnate died, he had bequeathed everything in your father’s name. In the true sense, he has kept what truly belongs to him that he could return to when there is an advent of difficult times. Your father is a honest and principled man.”

“Mother, do you know about the whereabouts of father? He must’ve told you something before he disappeared from the scene. In these ten years, I never saw you crying or in a depressed state of mind or feeling sad over his disappearance. I hope you are not hiding anything from me.” Visheshwar Rao said looking at his mother.

“Your father never told me anything about his disappearance and why should I hide anything from you son. He always told me that to maintain a stable outlook in every situation. If there were to occur a grave tragedy, one shouldn’t start another one on a parallel course to negotiate the ruin.” Bhuveneshwari Devi said in a calm manner and had already retreated towards her room upstairs before Visheshwar Rao could ask her any further questions.

Visheshwar contemplated for a moment and said to Sakshi, “I want you to join office tomorrow and manage the affairs in my absence as you are a stake-holder and also the director of the company. I’ve some important work to complete.”

“Where are you going all of a sudden? You never did that before. I am worried since the moment

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you opened that ill-fated room. There is some evil omen attached to that room.”

“I told you that I’ve some urgent work to do and I can’t disclose anything about it now. You just do what is asked of you and please don’t say anything absurd to anybody about what you saw in the room. It is a sentimental issue and family treasure and that’s going to stay there as long as I live.” Visheshwar Rao appeared stern on this occasion.

Visheshwar Rao locked his father’s private room and appeared thoughtful for a while and then pocketed the keys. He then walked towards his bedroom with Sakshi in tow. 

* * * * *

Visheshwar Rao simply lay on the bed faking his sleep while he contemplated his next move. Sakshi was watching television in the other room and had come some two hours after he had gone to sleep. He waited desperately for Sakshi to begin snoring in her sleep. When she started to breathe noisily through her nose and mouth, he got up slowly from the bed and climbed downstairs. He quietly opened the father’s room and dragged out the cycle-rickshaw, which was in perfect condition. He had worn the tattered pyjamas and the black jockey baniyan before he moved out of the house on to the road in the wee hours of the morning. He had a strong feeling that his father was very much alive and this was the only way he could find him; rather he knew his father would find him some day. His father had moved out from the bonds of lavish life to see whether his son follows him to the path of humility or not. He would never fail his noble father who wants to teach real life lesson to him.

Vishewshwar Rao felt his life had transformed to a greater level by embracing humility and he understood what faqeeri was in the true sense the moment he changed into his father’s original attire. He knew what his father wanted him to learn and he had to show that he emulated the deeds of his father and understood his message of Originality. He had returned to that stage of his life now – he had taken up what truly belonged to him, the family legacy that his father had preserved for years.

He initially had some difficulty in driving the old cycle-rickshaw but soon was accustomed to it and he had circled the entire area three or four times. An elderly lady approached him and he gave her a free ride up to the Gurudwara. He was overjoyed after repeating the feat of dropping elderly people at different locations of the city without charging them anything. They all blessed him and he felt delighted.

One elderly woman aged eighty inquired, “Do you come here regularly? I’ve seen you for the first time. I climbed on a rickshaw for the first time as you only sympathized with me while others abused me. My children don’t give me any money and ask me to walk wherever I wish to go. I can’t walk with this frail body anymore.”

“So long as you need me I’ll help you mother. If you need, I can help you with some money so that you can ride on another rickshaw when you don’t find me here.”

The elderly woman held his head and kissed him on his forehead and went away in a happy mood. Visheshwar Rao never felt so delighted in his life. Happiness cannot be bought by abundance of wealth. It is residing everywhere but one must know how to grab it. He felt so tired that he slept on the rickshaw.

* * * * *

Parmeshwar Rao was riding on another rickshaw in the city when he suddenly recognized his old rickshaw plying on the street. He can never forget the old rickshaw that became the means of his livelihood. He grew emotional when he saw it being pedaled across on the street by a young man wearing the tattered pyjamas and jockey baniyan that he used to wear in his younger days. The younger man was riding an elderly woman to the other side of the road. He realized that it has to be his son Visheshwar Rao who at last discovered his message; he had learned the lesson of humility but in a cruel manner. He sympathized with his son and also felt happy that he has become more capable to understand the grief of others.

Parmeshwar Rao had sacrificed everything in the hope that his son would one day emulate his ideology in life and lead a life of dignity and grace shunning arrogance and deception. However, he had to wait for ten long years when his son finally made his belief come true. His son didn’t betray him after all. He had been able to teach him the greatest lesson of his life that nobody get to learn inside classrooms. He had also proved his detractors wrong that his decision to pass on the reins to his young son was a grave mistake. He had made a self-avowal that he would return home on the day when his son would understand his message and ride his old rickshaw on the streets. 

Parmeshwar Rao decided to follow his son to the rickshaw stand. He found his son Visheshwar Rao sleeping on the rickshaw with his arm folded over his chest. He had parked his rickshaw and locked it and had changed into a different attire to give the look of a rich merchant. He had grown a long beard over the years and it would be difficult for anybody to recognize him easily. However, he couldn’t predict how his son would react with him. He hung his bag over the shoulder and approached his son’s rickshaw. It was an emotional moment for him as he was seeing his son after ten long years and he had grown into a gentleman. He lovingly placed his hand on his head and ruffled his hairs.  

Visheshwar Rao suddenly got up rubbing his eyes with his shabby muffler wound round his neck. He looked up to see who had ruffled his hairs. His father used to come and ruffle his hairs in sleep to wake him up every day for school. He then gave a queer look at the rich looking merchant and said, “Where you would like me to drop you?”

“Drop me at the City Square Mall. I’ve to do some shopping son.” Parmeshwar Rao said with a smile. Father was riding on a son’s rickshaw while the latter was unaware of this fact. The dignity of richness was meeting its symmetry in absolute humility. The richness was raised to the level of dignity by accepting the status of originality that once served as the ground for self-elevation.

Visheshwar Rao took a big yawn and stretched his arms in the air before climbing on to his seat. This was the first time he was going to ride someone to a long journey for earning some money. It took some thirty minutes to cover the five-kilometer stretch. He brought the rickshaw to a standstill and the rich looking merchant got down at the City Square Mall.

“How much you charge for this much journey son?”

Visheshwar Rao looked up and said, “You may give sixty rupees because it was a pretty long ride. My legs are tired pedaling for so long.”

Parmeshwar Rao put his hand in trouser pocket and took out the money and placed it on the outstretched hands of Visheshwar Rao who held the two notes – of fifty and twenty rupee denominations. Suddenly, he noticed a ring on the index finger on the right hand of the rich looking merchant. The ring appeared to be very familiar. He remembered having seen that ring earlier also but where ……. he couldn’t recollect exactly on whose hand he had seen it. The rich merchant had entered the mall and disappeared into the huge building.

Visheshwar Rao had barely pedaled a few yards that he realized that the man whom he just dropped outside the mall was his own father. He couldn’t mistake the ring on his father’s right hand. His mother had bought that ring on occasion of their marriage anniversary and she had put it on his finger ten years ago. He realized that he was riding his own father that too on his own rickshaw. He wondered if father had recognized him too and his old antique rickshaw that he preserved for years to teach his son the lesson of humility.

Visheshwar Rao jumped off the rickshaw leaving it on the road and ran towards the City Square Mall and when he tried to go inside, the guard at the gate intercepted him and denied him entry. He understood that even if he explained his position to the guard that he was the rich steel magnate, nobody is going to believe him. He was disappointed having missed his father and it was over a week now that he had been away from home. He decided to go back home in the morning. He slept on the rickshaw during the night cursing himself for failing in his attempt to find his father.   

* * * * *

Visheshwar Rao came riding on the cycle-rickshaw in the early morning hours. He pressed the button outside the gate. His wife Sakshi and mother Bhuvneshwari came out and looked at him. They failed to recognize him immediately and when he removed the muffler from his face, they both came running and opened the lock to let him in.

“Have you gone mad? You said you were going for some urgent work and you turn up in such a shabby state after a whole week. Do you realize how much worried I was for you? Mother asked me to call you up and your phone had been switched off. The entire staff was talking about your elopement and I felt very embarrassed.” Sakshi admonished him.

“Sakshi, first let him get inside and refresh himself. Then, we will give him a surprise of his life.”

Visheshwar Rao was so dejected with himself that he quietly rolled the rickshaw inside the compound and went inside leaving it there.

When he was coming towards the dining table for his breakfast, he saw the back of a man whom he didn’t recognize. He thought some relative had come to visit them and he greeted him and he received a mild nod from the clean shaven man who held the cup of coffee in his hand. His wife Sakshi and mother Bhuvneshwari looked at him and smiled mischievously.

When Visheshwar Rao sat at the opposite side to begin eating his breakfast, he looked up at the man again seated on the opposite side of the dining table. He saw the same ring on his hand and realized that the man sitting opposite to him was none other than his own father. He immediately got up from his table and hugged his father and cried.

“I’d recognized the ring on your hand but by the time I realized that it was you father, you had already disappeared into the building. I tried to enter the mall but the guard wouldn’t let me in because I was dressed up as a rickshaw-puller. Didn’t you recognize your own antique rickshaw father and your son in your own attire?” Visheshwar Rao asked his father in a complaining tone. “Besides, I found the tyres of the rickshaw fully inflated. How could this be possible.”

“I recognized you son and my own rickshaw too that is why I followed you and hired you to drop me at the City Square Mall. I regret that you’ve been examined in a cruel manner in order to teach you a lesson in humanity and humility. I’m happy that you didn’t disappoint me and proved all my detractors wrong by putting up such an exemplary act to make me feel proud of you my dear son. I vowed that I would return home when my son rides the rickshaw of humility on the streets to give a new dimension to the dignity of richness. You know it is your mother who maintained the rickshaw all these years. She would pump the air into the deflated tyres.”

“Why not all the rich men think in the same manner as you do father? Do they ever dare to teach their children in the manner you taught me this lesson in humanity and humility?”

“Son, it is our duty to set a precedent before the world and there will be a time when it will receive the appreciation and recognition at the appropriate time.” 

Visheshwar Rao hugged his father and said, “I hope such a time will surely come father.”

* * * * *