THE MARIGOLD AND THE GOLD
“The real question is not whether
life exists after death.
The real question is whether you
are alive before death.”
- Osho Rajneesh
He was called Chander
watchman. He was a Nepali. The housing society, where my classes and office are
situated, had provided him and his family (wife and three children) a small
temporary- shed to live. He mostly did night duty, and, to supplement his income,
he and his wife both washed many cars early every morning. Three children, all
boys, were in the age group of 3 to 13. None of them went to school, despite
the best efforts made by some good-hearted residents. Essentially because,
Chander’s stay in this colony was uncertain. He was an alcoholic and engaged
in ugly scenes with his wife regularly. Many residents had complained about it
and had asked the Managing Committee to remove Chander and his family from the
society as it, according to them, posed a security threat for the residents…
But, Chander was a
soft-hearted man… He would be helpful to many residents for their errands.
Besides, it was Chander who operated society water-pumps every day. So, a large
section of residents and Managing Committee members wanted him to live here.
They thought, that he was more useful than a nuisance…
Early last morning,
Chander passed away. Drinking had finally taken its toll. A friend of mine came to inform me. “Chander
passed away at night,” he said, “I am paying a visit to his place… Would you
like to join?”
When we visited
Chander’s shed, about twenty-five men and women had already assembled. They
were all from Nepali community… Inside the shed, Chander’s body was wrapped in
a sheet. As we went inside, we folded our hands to express our respect and
sorrow before his wife… She gently responded and began to sob… In a while, we
came out of the shed… Some ten feet away from the shed, there was our
underground water tank. A cloth piece was laid over the water tank and visitors
had dropped many ten-rupee notes… I hadn’t seen such a custom anytime before…
It looked more like a quiet appeal from his wife and friends to help Chander
get a decent cremation. I looked at my friend to ask, “What should we do?” He
was a member of the Managing Committee. He said, “Society will pay some amount
for this.” However, one of us spontaneously collected hundred rupees each making it five
hundred. “Don’t drop the five-hundred note here on the cloth,” cautioned one of
us, “Go and hand it over to Chander’s wife.” Obviously, all notes over there
were of ten rupees… So, whether this ‘big one’ would reach his wife’s hands was
doubtful… Yes, even in a situation like this!
It was ensured,
that the five-hundred-rupee note reached the right place!
As we dispersed
from the venue, one of the five, who had been objecting to Chander and his
family living in our premises citing security danger, concluded, “He was a
nice man… Woh Chander nahin Chandan tha!”
My friend, who was
in support of Chander’s family living here, gave me a look, which meant, “Did
you hear this chameleon’s tribute?”
I remembered the
words of one of my well-wishers some years ago. He was concerned about me and
my health watching me doing honorary work (as the Society Chairman for close to
eight years) day and night, literally killing myself: “It’s a thankless job… Don’t
expect them to help your family if you die early doing your social service… All
that most of them will do is, buy a ten-rupee marigold mala (garland),
place it on your while sheet and say with their folded hands, “He was a noble
man!”
Woh Chander nahin Chandan tha… Ye marigold nahin Gold hai!
Whether you are a committed
Chairman or a casual watchman, and whether you are a sworn teetotaller or a
chronic drunkared, the rules of Life and the rules of Death come alike!
GERALD D’CUNHA
Pic.: Internet
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