Not gold, the touch was precious

Aastha Bagga

POURING steaming hot adrak wali chai in a bone china cup, I handed it to the garbage man, who was sitting on the ice-cold marble floor of our veranda on a bone-quivering winter morning. I signalled him to sit on the chair, to which he turned a blind eye. He was uncomfortable and reluctant. ‘Why are you sitting on the floor?’ ‘One should not forget one’s aukaat,’ he replied, as he took desultory steps towards the garden tap, where he washed his cup and placed it carefully on the side-table. 

As he left, bending low and expressing gratitude, I kept sitting in the veranda, gazing towards the gate, feeling dysphoric. Being born a Brahmin, married by Sikh traditions, raised as Indian, nourished legally and practically by principles of equality, the episode left me disturbed. His work was onerous and perhaps more demanding than mine, yet I luxuriate sitting on a chair, and he on the floor. My thoughts wandered into an incident of yesteryear, told to me by my nani.

My grandfather was preparing for judicial exams. Modern toilets had not appeared on the scene then. Lakshmi, a manual scavenger, would come to the house twice a day. She used to watch him burning the midnight oil and would bless him before leaving from the back door, with defecation on her head — every single day of her life. 

One day, she brought sweets for him. It was her daughter’s wedding. Being diabetic, he took a piece and returned the rest. Sensing some malice, she said, ‘Rakh lo saheb ji, main es nu hath nahi laya’ (Keep it, Sir, I haven’t touched it). He laughed and put the piece in his mouth. Lakshmi’s smug expression conveyed more than words could.  

In the coming months, my grandfather cleared the exam and was waiting for the interview result. Lakshmi asked my grandmother what she would give her if he cleared the exam. A devoted wife, my grandmother promised anything she wished. ‘Bibi mainu apne gore hatha naal sone diya murkiya pava deve ge?’ (Will you put gold ear-rings in my ears with your fair hands?). 

My grandfather cleared the interview. People had gathered and were celebrating, when Lakshmi came and sat on the dehleez. My grandmother signalled her to come in, but she ignored it. My grandmother went to her and handed her a small box. With elation, she opened it. As my grandmother turned to return to the guests, Lakshmi said: ‘Tu vaada pura nahi karna’? (Are you not going to keep your promise?). My grandmother looked at her a little confused. My grandfather, who was watching them from a distance, understood that it was not the yearning for gold, but the touch of the higher caste. He told my nani: ‘Ehna nu apne hatha naal murkiya pava’ (make her wear the ear-rings); which my grandmother did joyfully. My guess, Lakshmi was overjoyed too.