Original Konkani Story: Ghanti
Author: Late Shantaram Anant Hedo
Translator: S. M. Borges
Following the liberation of Goa, hordes of people descended from the Ghats. One of these was Gopal. I met him for the first time at Meena Bazar, a fair held at Margao. He had come there in search of some work. He was a Kannada speaker but could also communicate in broken Hindi. My Hindi was not that good either. It was in this broken language that we struck a relationship. I observed him closely. He was wearing a short-sleeved tunic, similar to the one worn by shepherds, a rather narrow lungi tucked at the waist and a cloth wrapped haphazardly around the head.
Physically, he was tall and lanky, flat-bellied and in the prime of youth. He took off the turban and, holding it humbly in his hands, said to me, “Muzhe kam chahiye … . . . . .kaisa bhi chalega.” (I need some work ….. any kind will do.)
He smiled. I noted two things about him. The tuft of hair that tumbled down when he took off his turban and the shining teeth which were visible when his lips parted into a smile. That reminded me of a ripe pod of the silk cotton tree when it suddenly bursts open. I said to myself, “So what if he is a Ghanti? This fellow looks handsome in way.”
Meena Bazar was to run for about a week. And our stall did need a hand. We employed Gopal on daily wages. But, as he was a Ghanti, we had, of course, our reservations regarding his trustworthiness.
The same evening, there was the game of throwing a ring around the neck of ducks. Three snow- white ducks were placed in the water tank. When the game was over, Gopal was instructed to keep an eye on the ducks. But, when I returned after an hour, there was no sign of the ducks nor was Gopal to be seen anywhere! I said to myself, “Well. This is certainly Gopal’s handiwork. The Ghantis just cannot look at fowl with equanimity; they immediately get an urge to lift it. Poultry owners in Goa have to be ever vigilant against jackals and Ghantis.” I gave Gopal a dressing down. I said, “Gopal, there is not a single duck in the tank! You must have stolen them. I shall hand you over to the police right away.”
On hearing this, Gopal began to sweat profusely. He could not utter a word. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with the left sleeve of his tunic and, with humility writ large on his face, he assured me that he had not stolen the ducks.
“Perhaps they came out of the tank and hid themselves in the nearby bushes.”Having said that, he caught hold of a stick and went on to repeatedly strike the bushes, shouting ‘hoosh’ . ‘hoosh’ all the time. In this manner, he managed to locate all the three ducks. Inwardly, I felt guilty, but I did not let anyone sense it. I realized that I had judged Gopal unfairly and had suspected him for no reason at all. But, at the same time, my trust in Gopal grew manifold.
Meena Bazar folded up and we let Gopal go his way. Because of the hectic activity at Meena Bazar, a number of my routine affairs had remained unattended. So I remained busy completing them. But after a few days, most unexpectedly, there was Gopal standing at my door, early in the morning.
This time too, he had come looking for work. I mused, “This fellow is on the look out for easy pickings; he wants to dig wherever the ground is soft.” But really, I had developed a soft corner for him in my heart. May be he sensed this too. Else, of all the people, why should he come to pester me alone?
Gopal had then exhausted whatever he had earned at Meena Bazar. He said that he had not eaten a morsel since the previous day. But what work could I give him? All said and done, I am not engaged in any business or trade. I began to ponder. Gopal very humbly said, “Koi bhi chalega .” (Any work will do.)
All of a sudden, I asked, “Would you be able to clear the rubbish around our house with a broom? Could you make a way for the waste water to flow from our bathing room? Could you secure the bamboo slats on the fence of our backyard? Could you put some mud at the bases of our flowering plants?” Gopal completed all these tasks with great finesse, and I did not hesitate to pay him over and above the agreed daily wage. I gave him food too. Next, I persuaded some of my neighbours to give him similar work. Gopal’s needs were thus met for about a week. But there is a limit to the availability of such work. I suggested to him that he could take up working as a porter.
I said, “If you were to transport luggage to and from the bus stop, you could easily earn about seven to eight rupees in a day.” From the very next day, Gopal took up this occupation. He would slog from dawn to dusk. He would eat whatever he could get and sleep at any available place. But, in spite of all his hard work, Gopal did not earn enough. People would cheat him. Finding that he was gullible, they would pay him ten to twenty-five paise when a rupee should have been the just remuneration. And, to cap it, they would derisively call him a Ghanti.
A few days passed by. Suddenly one day, Gopal knocked on my door once again. With his head bowed, he told me that the police chased him away on finding him sleeping on the pavement. “If you ever sleep on the foot- path again, you will receive a jolly good hiding,” they had warned.
“The police do not permit me to sleep on the foot-path, and neither the people nor their dogs would allow me anywhere near somebody’s house.” He cringed and said, “Swamy, could you please permit me to sleep at one corner of your verandah? I shall come after dark and depart before day-break.” Thus saying, he bent down and touched my feet.
I was struck by his audacious confidence. I said to myself, “Show a little kindness to this fellow and he piles up on you.” I looked at him suspiciously. “This man is a Ghanti. These fellows drink, steal poultry, rob utensils, …..”
Perhaps Gopal read my thoughts. He said, “No. I am not one of those. I do not touch liquour nor do I ever smoke.” I looked at him. His countenance was simple and guileless. I said to him, “Achchha to aa jana!”
Thence onwards, Gopal began to sleep in our verandah. He would come at nightfall, sleep at the very
edge of the verandah and depart in the wee hours, the next morning. In a couple of days, there was an uproar in our neighbourhood. Men and, specially, women began to whisper among themselves, “How could Professor accommodate a Ghanti in an elite locality like this one?” In fact, a couple of neighbours told me directly to my face, “What you are doing is certainly not proper!” Further, a girl came to me with a photograph of an absconding robber published in ‘The Times of India’ and asserted that there was great similarity between the man in the photograph and Gopal.
You could not fault them. The situation prevalent then was different. Today, we are not surprised to read or hear about robberies, assaults or even murders. To us these have become commonplace, everyday affairs. Today, our minds have become callous, insensitive. But in the bygone days, such was not the case. In those days, we believed in civility and humane feelings. I scrutinized Gopal’s face. I could not detect much of a similarity between his face and the one shown in the photograph.
Moreover, the man reported by ‘Times’ was an educated army jawan and Gopal was an uncouth illiterate; he could not even pronounce correctly the names of persons in my household. He would refer to my son Pramod as ‘Parmod’ and my nephew Suresh’ as Suryas.’ He would refer to me as ‘Swamy’ and the same appellation was used for my wife as well. Perhaps, his addressing both of us as ‘Swamy’ was understandable. But there was a maidservant in our house, pitch dark in complexion. Yet, with her chiseled features, she was no doubt attractive, and “fashionable” too. She would always wear clean white clothes so as to contrast with her black skin. Whenever she went to the market, she would carry an umbrella and she would dry the perspiration on her forehead by pressing it with a small kerchief, much in the manner of painted actors in a drama. Gopal would refer to this girl also as ‘Swamy’. We would find this very amusing. The riddle was solved by Gopal himself when, one day, he asked Pramod, ‘Parmod’, you are all fair-skinned. Then why is this sister of yours so dark?” This meant that Gopal believed the girl to be our daughter and, therefore, referred to her also as ‘Swamy’.
Of course, we kept a close watch on Gopal’s behaviour. I would make enquiries about Gopal’s activities from Damu, the barber who would visit my house regularly to give us a haircut. Damu’s saloon was situated close to a liquour shop on Station Road. Gopal was working in that very locality. Damu would say: “Gopal does not get involved in any dispute. Nor does he interfere in other people’s affairs and, as for liquour, he is never close enough to smell it. He generally keeps his own counsel.” From time to time, Gopal would also do any sundry work in our house.
One day, We had got some of our paddy milled and had spread the rice on the floor for airing. One day, when the rice had cooled enough, Gopal filled it into a large earthen drum. But how? !Grain by grain! He picked up the grains with his fingers, one by one, from every nook and crevice and even from under the furniture. A hen could not have done a better job. Even my wife had said, “Gopal, what is this you are doing? Just sweep them off”. And Gopal replied, “Swamy, it is food. One must not throw it into garbage. And it must not ever be touched with a broom!”
Another day, my two sons and a nephew left the house together at dusk. Gopal had just arrived and, as was his wont, was sitting in the verandah, leaning against the wall. He got up instantly and ran after them. He returned after a couple of minutes and sat in his usual place. I found this behaviour
rather odd and so I asked him, “Why did you do that, Gopal? Why did you hurry out and return as quickly? Why?”
“Swamy, it is inauspicious for three persons to leave house at dusk. Therefore, made up the fourth person.”
On the day I permitted Gopal to sleep in our verandah, the one person who objected most vehemently was my wife. Sporting a frown, she had created quite a scene. “What do you think you are doing? Are you aware that we have valuables in the house like utensils, gold, clothes etc.? Have you decided to hand over this household to a Ghanti?”
“Do you mean to say that every Ghanti is a thief? This world is made up of bad persons as well as good. I feel that this Ghanti will not steal your valuables. In stead, he will guard them faithfully.” And, as a matter of fact, when Gopal was sleeping outside, I would really enjoy a peaceful snooze inside. Ganesh Chaturthi 3 had arrived. As is our custom, we were to go to our ancestral house at Shiroda.
( To be continued)
That particular year, it was our turn to arrange for the entire paraphernalia to perform all the rituals connected with the worship, as well as looking after every detail of the pooja, not excluding the provisions and the menial help. For this purpose, the householder has to reach Shiroda some four to five days prior to the actual festivities. So we had a problem on our hands. If all of us were to go to Shiroda, who would look after our Margao residence? Every family in our ward would be going to their respective ancestral villages leaving the locality completely deserted. I had to think of a way out. And, out of the blue, I remembered Gopal. As it was, he used to sleep at out house on a regular basis. I said to my wife, “Let us put our house in Gopal’s charge. She recoiled angrily. “Putting the house in Gopal’s charge would be akin to giving the keys of the strong-room to a thief for safe-keeping.”
