The Diary Of A Servant

I am a servant. Not a civil servant enjoying mighty powers. I work in the house of an industrialist where every menial work is given to me. I cook, wash, sweep and do all domestic chores. I don’t know about my progenitor or even my genitor. Thakur Ramdeo Singh says that once he was returning after hunting a wild pig in a jungle when he saw me by the side of a road. I was shivering with cold and was extremely malnourished. He says that it’s because of his great generosity that today I am alive. My master says that human life is a precious blessing that is offered to only those souls who have undergone eighty thousand birth cycles. This list of cyclic birth to different forms before getting blessed with human form might have ranged from the tiniest bacteria and viruses to the giant elephant and blue whale. One day my master took me to his friend’s house at Lucknow. I was given a seat at the rear end of the car. I was literally bewildered at the beauty of the world. I saw children, adults, women and men walking past the roads and markets. Their faces exhibited hope and joviality. I saw huge buildings with lights sparkling out of their windows. It’s another matter that throughout the journey the grandiosity and prosperity around me attracted my attention more than shabbiness and dullness since the latter was inherently a part of me. I pleased myself with the mesmerising colourful vision of the world. It was a Sunday afternoon. That day for the first time in my life I awoke so late in the morning. My master scolded me for not cleaning and arranging the dining table because some guests were expected to dine together for some celebratory reasons. That day was the worst day of my life. Working as a servant had naturally ingrained servility in me. So I had always remained careful in not offending my master by any silly faults.

However, today I was not feeling well. Last night my master had thrown a party on the occasion of his younger son’s birthday. So I was buried in a load of work. The party went on till late at night. I was left deeply exhausted. When everyone went to sleep I returned to my tin roofed tiny room. My muscles were aching and I was feverish. Finally, sleep came to me rather late. As I couldn’t awake on time. So my master in great rage abused me as “Harami”. The word “Harami” stung me like a scorpion. I felt ashamed of my undignified existence. My manhood challenged me. In fact, the pet dogs in my master’s house were treated royally. Every time I endured the wrath of my master for the reason that he saved my life and provided me bread for the last 20 years. I cursed my parents who had disowned and left me on the street. My mind kept on pondering about the servile aspects of my life in which I had spent almost two decades. Every step of my life was dictated at the whims and fancies of my master. Everyone expected me to be meek and servile. To get rid of this life and to try my destiny somewhere else I decided to abandon my master’s house. In the darkness of night, I secretly climbed the boundary wall. Some stray dogs started barking. I remained unmoved. Now I was free of the slavery that had wasted two previous decades of my life. In the morning when the sun rose in the East I went to a nearby market in search of independent wherewithal. All shops were closed. So I whiled away the time. At 10.00 p.m. I entered a grocery shop and asked for a job. They examined my calculating skills and rejected me. Then I entered a grand building asking for the job of a guard. The owner glanced at me and then burst into laughter. Perhaps I was denied the job because of my lean and weak body. I felt frustrated at being rejected continuously. Ultimately in the evening, I felt terribly hungry. With no money in my pocket, I was not able to buy food. While walking past the Hanuman temple I saw some beggars sitting in a row by the wall of the temple. I saw houseflies feasting on the open wounds of some of the beggars. Some generous people dropped coins upon their stretched palm or tin bowl. I was left with no option but to take a place in that row of beggars. As I was preparing to do so a fellow beggar asked me whether I had registered in the town’s beggar society. I expressed my innocence about these formalities. Soon a group of hooligans arrived at the sound of a whistle. They dragged me out of the row and threw me on a heap of garbage. Having been exposed to the outer world I found the servant’s job better than everything. Though I was feeling ashamed and fearful in returning to my master’s home, there didn’t seem any other alternative than death. But again I remembered the words of my master that human life is very precious since it is bestowed after eighty thousand cycles of birth. So I decided to savour this blessing given by Almighty. I reached my master’s house. I saw him coming out of the large main gate in his hunting jeep. ‘Where were you?’ ‘Sir, it was a great mistake.’ I bowed on my knees holding both my ears showing true repentance and asking for forgiveness. My master laughed. ‘Ok, I forgive you for the last time. Go and water the plant. They are getting drier. I quickly went inside, clutched the water pipe and got busy with my job. Perhaps people like me are destined for a life of servitude and suffering. Or there might be certain esoteric socioeconomic logic behind the existence of people like me on the earth. Or maybe the privileged classes are involved in a concerted conspiracy to let us remain in our state so that they could be served in accordance with their maniacal manoeuvrability..!