Saviours of humanity

IN 1965, I had applied for a Vespa scooter from the Army canteen. The allotment letter came in December 1972, just when I was leaving for Staff College, Wellington. I chose the Madras regional canteen depot as the nodal point and conveyed it to the authorities concerned.

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The Delhi-Madras train arrived at its destination in the morning and there was a day-long wait to board the connecting Nilgiri Express. We visited the canteen depot. Leaving the wife and our toddler son in the taxi, I went to the manager’s office. Since he had a visitor, I said, ‘Sorry for barging in, but I have a metered taxi waiting outside.’ I handed over the allotment letter.

‘Have you brought the bank draft?’ the manager asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘but we are carrying cash.’ He expressed his inability to accept cash. There was finality in his tone as he handed back the letter.

I asked whether there was a bank nearby. He told me that there was one, but it would take 24 hours to issue a draft. ‘You can come back tomorrow,’ he said.

I told him that my train was leaving in the evening. This prompted the visitor to intervene. ‘I am a retired Wing Commander. If it is ok, you can leave the letter and cash with me and I will do the needful,’ he said.

I thanked him. ‘I will just get the money; it is with my wife.’

As I walked out, I harboured negative thoughts about the unhelpful manager. I had barely re-entered his office when he suddenly said, ‘Ok, I will make an exception and accept cash from you.’ This was a pleasant surprise.

As the other man rose to leave, I thanked him again for his offer. ‘Do you know him?’ the manager asked me sternly after the man had left.

‘No, I don’t. But he is a retired defence officer.’

‘Just because he says so? How can you be so gullible?’ The manager was genuinely upset. ‘He is a conman. When I realised that you were falling into his trap, I felt sorry for you.’ Letting out a phew, I thanked him and handed him the money. He counted it and issued a receipt.

I have always wondered why people undergo penance in search of God. God lives among us. Unfortunately, so does the devil. We just have to take our luck.

In confusion, I did not even ask the manager’s name. I only recall that he had an extra finger on his right hand. But every time I visit a canteen, the do-gooder automatically comes in my prayers. Stay blessed, my friend. You and your ilk are surely the saviours of humanity.