The Fool That Turned Wise

He was a servant, underpriviledged and unnoticed. But he had always dreamed of becoming rich. Rich to him meant luxuries and ordering. Luxuries like what little Marshall had, and ordering like what Mrs Govindi did.

According to the everstated theory of Mrs Govindi, little Marshall was only 28, and he was full 17. Her belief that servants came from a tough background made him responsible for all the household chores and little Marshall the prince of all luxuries. No one cared that he was just 17, a lad with budding mustaches and underarms; but everyone did care that he was a paid servant. Paid eleven hundred rupees at the end of each month.

Eleven hundred rupees according to Mrs Govindi meant a lot, but it was significantly little for little Marshall. This is what Ikram was inspired with. He was fascinated and thrilled to see how in no time little Marshall could spend what he would take months to finish.

In the words of little Marshall, Ikram came from a house of approximately two dozen residents. A pair of spouse, blessed with unstoppable toddlers. Ikram had 19 siblings as of yet, with 8 brothers and 11 sisters. There was another coming anytime soon, and that is how it neared two dozen. Often in his free time, little Marshall would interrogate Ikram about his family and make fun of him. Mrs. Govindi would join in and contribute some eavesdropped theories of Islam. Ikram never cared of them speaking and mocking him, and without a thought answered them whatever they asked. Usually in Mrs Govindi's presence the questions were about the names of his siblings, and how he identified them in a crowd without any confusion. In his mother's absence little Marshall would ask Ikram if he had ever witnessed his parents being intimate. To the numerous refusals that Ikram would produce, little Marshall would refuse to agree and would unstoppably insist him to accept. Even this would not bother Ikram anyhow.

What bothered Ikram was Mrs Govindi. When in the wee hours of the evening after finishing the day's chores Ikram would get ready in his market outfit: a full sleeve shirt and full length pants, to go along with little Marshall, she would spill some water in the kitchen or reveal some hidden dishes for him to do. Only if little Marshall agreed to stop by he would be lucky enough to get along with him, else the routine would end up being on all fours on the floor.

Everyday in the evening, little Marshall went for a game of Billiards and then to the gym. Getting along with him as a help for Ikram would mean half the share of his leftover drinks and meals and undoubtedly no work. He would be out for nearly four hours and that is what Ikram saw as his lucky escape, but what Mrs Govindi saw as a loss of her resource and money. She had often told little Marshall to not encourage Ikram in slipping away from work, but he wouldn't listen just like she wouldn't listen to his advice about Raghuveer Uncle's visits.

Ikram's tenure at Mrs Govindi's mansion would complete six months in another two days. The same day would also bring the date which he had promised as a return of ten thousand rupees to Bhola, the money lender. His father had borrowed this money at the time of his youngest brother's birth and the responsibility to pay it back was on Ikram's shoulders.

Ikram had deposited his salary with Mrs Govindi for this day. His accomodation and food was free, and to save more he had avoided any trips home in the past months. In his calculations, he was still short of some three and a half thousand rupees. Today, in the evening he was prepared to share his ordeals with little Marshall. He had finished all chores, wiped all utensils and even pulled down all the cobwebs, which were Mrs Govindi's last bombs to hold him back from going along with little Marahall. He was ready for the call, an hour ago. Keeping hiself busy in the kitchen, which was adjacent to little Marshall's room, as he arranged the dishes he kept his ears receptive to any little noise from the master's room. Finally at the toll of four the door opened and Ikram wiped his hands on the back of his trousers in anticipation. Before he could ask little Marshall to borrow his company or the master would ask him to join in, Mrs Govindi came out of her room dressed in her pink saree. Ikram knew what that meant, and then he also noticed the bow in his master's neck. He turned back to the kitchen and got busy with arranging the dishes. There was not much to do, but now he had to figure out something to do. Atleast, until they were gone.

Once in a blue moon on any random day, Mrs Govindi and her feminine squad would gather up for a kitty party in the neighbourhood. On that day Mrs Govindi would wear a pink saree, and little Marshall a bow tie. Their sudden revelation shattered Ikram's hopes today. He stood back realising that there wasn't any other opportunity coming his way. He tried to think of any good way to arrange the needed sum, but there seemed no way out. As he sat down on the floor benath the sink he saw the open door to Mrs Govindi's room. There ahead he knew the safe, which was always filled with money. With a thought that he would only take what was needed, he marched towards the room.

As he tip-toed into the room with a thumping heart and goosebumps, he realised that Mrs Govindi had perhaps left in a haste. The keys of her cupboard were lying on her bed amidst her pink and yellow lingeries. He picked up the keys and opened the cupboard to see the chest. He knew exactly where the money was and in another minute by turning the last key he turned her erotic bedroom into a crime scene. There was no turning back for Ikram now. There were bundles of notes before his eyes, more than he had ever imagined. More than he could ever count. More than he could ever spend. His dreams of becoming rich were just a step away. A step that would set things smooth and bring a life of luxuries like that of little Marshall, and that of ordering like Mrs Govindi. He could become a master and have servants to order. He could have a big car with sidekicks asking to come along. There could be so much more, so much that he could not even imagine at the moment. But yet there was some reoccuring thought that held him captive of daring it.

He stopped for a moment to think that neither Mrs Govindi nor little Marshall had ever been cruel to him. They wanted work and never pulled back in paying him back. They were good people, one half of a week he could easily manage half days of work by being the sidekick of little Marshall. He would get good stuff to eat and a chance to roam around in a Mercedes, a car which none of his generations would ever come close enough to. He closed the chest, and the cupboard and kept the keys between the undies and the yellow bras. He walked out of the room thinking that he could still talk to little Marshall and he would agree to help him.

As he walked out of the room, the phone in the hall rang. He reached to it, Mrs Govindi was on the other end.
"Hello," she said, "Aaa... Ikram...?"
"Yes madame."
"I left my room open. The keys of my cupboard are on the bed, can you hang them on the wall and clear my bed of the clothes?"
"Yes madame."
"Good, I'll be back in two hours," this she said to Ikram and next she addressed to her feminine squad, "you can always trust these servants, they are all fools. Leave them a few hundred rupees and they will steal it away, leave them an open cupboard filled with money and they will lock it back for you." Next she laughed and everyone joined in. Ikram clutched the phone tight to his ears and gulped down the ignominy of the minute.

He walked back to her room, opened the cupboard, and its chest, counted the stacks of bundles and sweeped them into a black polythene. Then from the bed he picked up her bra and walked up to the mirror and holding it across his chest shouted out loud at Mr Govindi's photo, "Tell her when she comes, that the fool suddenly turned wise."