I retired as a school principal last year. As my house was too big for my needs, I rented out the rear portion to Santokh Singh, a mechanic in the water works department. He would stay alone, away from his family residing in his village.
“I shut the main gate at 10 pm, so you must be back positively by that time. I don’t want to be disturbed at odd hours,” I said in a tone reminiscent of my service days. “Madam ji, that’s really good. It will keep me disciplined,” he replied with a smile.
Hardly a few days had passed before I noticed that he’d kept the light in the verandah on for the whole night. When I pointed this out to him, he said, “I am doing this to improve the visibility in our lane at night for the convenience of passersby. Please don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.”
“But why should you do all this? It is the responsibility of our municipality,” I retorted.
“You are right,” he admitted, “but it’s our duty to help our fellow beings. Our Gurus taught us to spend a part of our earnings on benevolent causes.”
As I gazed at him, I realised how spiritualism had influenced his life and outlook.
One evening, a former colleague paid a visit. She remarked, “The rent you are charging is too low. And I feel you should keep a tenant with a higher social status.” Her remarks hit home and I decided to get rid of Santokh Singh. I cooked up a story: “I received a call from my son in the US. He is coming to India for good with his wife, so I will need the portion where you are staying.”
Unruffled, he said, “Madam ji, this is very good news. Very few children return to their country. You are very lucky. I will vacate the place before the month ends.” I was relieved as I had not expected such a response.
On the last day of the month, he met me and said, “While gathering my things, I found this small box in a corner. It must be yours.” It contained my gold earrings, which had gone missing some time ago. All this time, I had presumed that they were stolen during my nephew’s marriage.
After a pause, I said, “Were you really not aware that they are valuable?” He smiled and said, “I may be a simpleton, but I can distinguish between stone and gold!”
“What I meant was that only saints can treat gold like stone,” I clarified. My compliment failed to flatter him. He said goodbye with folded hands.
Tears welled up in my eyes and my heart was filled with remorse. I felt too small in comparison with his lofty stature. A humble mechanic had taught me a life lesson: no complaints, only gratitude and an unshakeable trust in human goodness.
The writer is ex-principal of a govt school in Theog (Shimla)
