At last, dues paid in full

Popularly known as Muneem, he was the canteen contractor in our hostel when I was studying at Panjab University 50 years ago. Attired in a discoloured kurta-pyjama and loosely tied turban, he looked like a rugged farmer from Punjab. His rustic wit made him popular among students. With his long, salt-and-pepper beard and affectionate demeanour, he was a father figure to us. Sometimes, we borrowed money from him for going to movies etc., during our phases of penury.

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And it was during such a period that our final exams approached. I was to produce a clearance chit from our hostel to receive my admit card and I didn’t have money to pay my dues. The canteen bill was hefty. I went to Muneem with the request to sign the chit, promising him that I would pay the entire bill after the exams. He looked at me in mock anger, ‘And what shall I do if you flew away to Dubai after the exams?’ But his anger melted instantly and he signed the chit for me.

But I could not pay him even after the exams. I returned to my bank job from which I had gone on a sabbatical to attend a journalism course. A few months later, I visited Chandigarh to get my degree. I also tried to locate Muneem to pay the dues, but could not find him as he had left the hostel canteen.

One day, an elderly Sikh entered my cabin in the bank and sat silently on the chair across my table. Ours was an agricultural branch and we dealt with farmers throughout the day. I asked, ‘Sardar ji, from which village have you come and what for?’

He didn’t reply and kept staring at me. I had to say, ‘Speak out, please, I haven’t the whole day for you!’

He glared at me and burst out in Punjabi, ‘Oye, hun tu mainu pachhanada vi nahi? (you don’t even recognise me now?)’

I suddenly realised it was our good old Muneem, but it was too late. He had already stood up and moved out hurriedly. I had to run after him to catch him on the road.

He was furious and wanted to leave the town immediately. After much cajoling, he agreed to come to my room. I ordered a sumptuous lunch and lassi to cool him down. After paying his dues and travelling expenses, I saw him off at the bus stand. He hugged me warmly before boarding the bus. His aged eyes were moist when he said, ‘I travelled to each one of you to recover my money, which was not that much. Believe me, it was just an excuse to meet you before I returned to my village. You were like my children. But you really broke my heart when you failed to recognise me!’

Some robust-looking people could be so tender inside, I wondered.