The Return of Compassion (908words)

 

I drove along the narrow road in that village. Things had mostly stayed the same. Except for a few brick houses the thatched ones remained. The walls pasted with cow dung in the form of pancakes gave an unpleasant odour. The stray dogs and hens running hither and thither under the wooden carts parked on the road were typical of an Indian village. I felt thirsty and wanted a coke.

 I stopped at the only grocery shop but also selling bakery items and vegetables. The coke was not cold. The shopkeeper said the fridge was not working. I found the shop empty with most of the shelves bare. The various drums where rice, pulses, sugar and many other items were kept seemed almost empty. There were clear signs of the shop being in the doldrums with the prospect of being shut down soon.

I asked the elderly unshaven frail man beaten by age and worry seated on the stool.” Do you know of Annamalai Chettiar who owned the shop two decades back? I think this is the same shop- the well opposite to it is still there.”

"I am Annamalai. The shop has not changed hands. May I know who you are?” asked the old man.

“Oh, oh. you used to look young and healthy then. I see the ravages of time and worry on your face. I remember your shop used to be crowded early in the mornings with many buying their small requirements from here and you were doing good business. Why, what happened? You seem to have fallen into bad days,” I asked “

You have not said who you are” persisted the shopkeeper. “

I will tell you later but I used to live in this village in my younger days”

Annamalai Chettiar after a sigh started telling.” My wife fell seriously ill. I could not attend to the shop and take care of her simultaneously. I employed a boy known to family but he swindled money and neglected the business. He put the company in deep debt. I sold my land and the house to meet the debt and mounting medical expenses. But she finally died. Without resources, I could not buy adequate provisions to stock in the store and improve the business. People stopped coming to the store. I am afraid I may have to call it a day and pull the shutters down”

“How much minimum money would you need as working capital to bring the store back to normal working” I asked “

Who will lend me money? I am a pauper,” he said with a wry smile"

“Tell me. We will think about it later,” I said “

" I would need Rs25000 to buy the various provisions. I should not send a customer away saying I do not have what he asks for. I need to have a good inventory. I would need another Rs.10000 to repair this shop as it leaks during rain and spoils the goods, “he said

“Never mind. Here is my card. Please come to the next town and see me. I will advance you Rs.50,000 from my bank.”

“What are you talking about? I have nothing to pledge except my honour. Loans are not given on honour,” he laughed wryly. He added, “Tell me why you do all this to an unknown stranger? Are you making fun of me, seeing my miserable condition,” he asked in a choking voice

“Chettiar, you may not remember me at this distant date. But I remember you as our guardian angel coming to our assistance every time, we approached you. I am the son of Singaram. My dad Arunachalam was a drunkard and spent whatever little he earned on his liquor. He only knew to beat my mom daily at night. He later deserted us. My mom was sick and yet she worked as a farmhand. We starved on many days, me and my sister. But my mother spent her money on our education. There were countless days when she would retire to bed on an empty stomach.

“When things became unbearable, we came to you, asking for rice and essentials on credit. You always helped us without hesitation, despite the old dues. I suspect now that you gave us more out of kindness than as business. Your generosity kept us alive when we had nothing. My mother was too ashamed to ask for help, but she sent me to you when our hunger was unbearable. If it weren’t for you, she might have taken her own life and ours. We owe everything to you.

Today I am in a good position. I can help you. It need not be charity. You can pay back to the bank when your store starts flourishing. I will stand surety for you and ensure it is sanctioned. Come and see me tomorrow itself,” I replied

Tears flowed from his eyes as he said “Yes I remember your mom and how she struggled with her alcoholic husband. She was like my younger sister as we grew up together in the village. I think your name is Mani. Am I right? Where is your sister?”

As I drove back, I found that my thirst was quenched somewhat despite the warm coke.  But my heart brimmed with happiness, and I switched on the music with a smile.

Gratitude is the fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it among gross people- Samuel  Johnson