Chief ki Daawat all over again
Recently, US President Donald Trump was in India on a short trip. Though he was in our country only for two days, the entire government machinery sprang into action with unmatched vigour. A laid-back administration suddenly metamorphosed into an efficient apparatus and government officials went out of the way to repair, renovate and spruce up places the US President was to visit.
Roadside vendors and beggars were asked to shift their businesses for the time being and a wall was erected to hide slums from the sight of the most powerful man in the world. Water was released into the Yamuna to dilute the unbearable stench of the river. A fresh coat of paint was given to the streets and walls of cities. Roads were repaired and widened to bear the weight and volume of ‘the Beast’. After all, we wanted to see our guest pleased and go back immensely impressed.
Against this backdrop, I was transported to the days of my childhood in a boarding school. Every time, high-profile officials visited our school to inspect the living conditions in the hostel, the school authorities would spare no effort to paint a rosy picture. We were handed ultra white bedsheets and heavily embroidered bedcovers to make our beds, but we weren’t supposed to lie on them. The moment the inspection was over, we were asked to return the expensive linen, to be used again at the time of the next inspection. Similarly, food served in the hostel mess, during the stay of the team, was wholesome and scrumptious. On the day of the scrutiny, we wore starched uniform and ate our breakfast standing lest the creases of our trousers were spoiled. But once the inspection was over, everything reverted to normal in no time.
Chief ki Daawat is a famous story by legendary writer Bhisham Sahni, which we read in school. The setting of the story is in pre-Independence India. The plot revolves around a humble Indian official who invites his chief, an Englishman, to his house for dinner. The low-rung official believes that if his boss is impressed by his hospitality, he would surely grant him the long due promotion. The man and his wife leave no stone unturned to make their house spic and span. The only eyesore in their house is the man’s elderly mother. They try their best to keep their illiterate and unkempt mother out of sight of the boss and his wife, but the prying eyes of the guests are somehow able to spot the old lady, and much to the amazement of the hosts, the boss is immensely charmed by the innocence and rustic ways of the mother .
And once again, a few days ago, when two cities of the country were given a cosmetic makeover to welcome the distinguished guest, I couldn’t help but marvel at the relevance of the story we read during our formative years.
