I noticed many things about him in one glance.
For example: his dark looks, the spectacles with a thick frame, the moustache lining his lips, the shining white teeth and the slight dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. I hadn’t seen another man on whom dimples looked this attractive.
‘I’m from F-North.’ He was a clerk!
I offered him a chair.
‘Thanks!’ he said, smiling, showing off his dimples once more. ‘I am Satwalekar.’
I introduced myself.
‘I’ve been transferred to this department.’
‘Oh, I see. When do you join?’
‘On the coming Thursday.’
‘Oh! That means the day after.’
‘Yes. That’s why I came in, taking a half-day leave. Who is the head clerk here?’
‘You may go and meet him. But have a cup of tea first.’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Why? Don’t you drink tea?’
‘That’s right. I don’t drink tea in the office.’
‘Then shall I order it from outside? Or a cold drink, perhaps?’
‘If you have time, we can step out.’
‘Sure. Let’s go.’
‘Let’s meet the head clerk first. That way, I don’t have to come back.’
‘Makes sense.’
I took Satwalekar to Tambe, the head clerk. Satwalekar enquired about the desk he was being allotted. Tambe pointed to Chiplunkar’s table. Chiplunkar was on a long leave. After a few more questions, Satwalekar and I stepped out of Tambe’s cabin. I took Satwalekar to Chiplunkar’s desk. He looked at it carefully. He noted that the desk had three drawers: the top one was filled with stationery, the middle one had no handle, and the third one had no lock. In the lowest one was a pair of plastic slippers, the kind you can buy on the footpath for a couple of rupees. There were also a few empty chocolate wrappers, some of them with chocolate stuck to them. Chiplunkar was a shabby fellow. He was addicted to tobacco and paan. He would bring eight or ten paans wrapped in paper every day. And he would crush the paper into a small ball and throw it into one of the drawers. His desk, unfortunately, was next to a window which had been shut because of the heaps of files. So he had to walk all the way to an open window to spit the betel juice.
‘Is this window permanently closed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Thanks to the heaps of files.’
‘Can’t we stack them better and see if we can open the window?’
‘Who will make the effort?’
Satwalekar didn’t reply.
We had a cup of tea at the hotel and went our respective ways.
I enjoy the diversity of human beings. Everyone has their own traits, whims and characteristics. And getting to know someone new is exciting because it opens new avenues for such discoveries. Satwalekar left, and with him my boredom too. All that remained was a memory of his sparkling teeth and lovely dimples.
The office looked different when I came in that Thursday. For a moment, I wondered if I had climbed up to the fifth floor instead of the fourth. I was about to conclude that I had indeed come to the wrong floor when I saw the regular peon. It was my floor after all.
The peon said,
‘Saheb, isn’t the office looking jhakaas?’
‘That is true. What’s the reason?’
‘The new saheb got the window opened.’
A small change had made a huge impact. I stopped dead in my tracks. Satwalekar’s desk was covered with an attractive plastic tablecloth. A flower pot stood on one side with some plastic flowers in it.
I continued my inspection. The missing drawer-handle and the broken lock had been replaced. Satwalekar’s desk had the same effect on our office as a bindi has on a woman’s face. It was looking bright and colourful.
I was busy absorbing these changes when Satwalekar walked in, wiping his hands. He had washed his face and hands, right up to his elbows. He had removed his glasses to wash his face, and looked very different. His eyes looked much bigger, as if staring into something.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning.’
‘When did you come in?’
‘Exactly two hours ago.’
‘You have changed this place completely.’
‘I hate claustrophobic places. A window, after all, is meant to be opened. I wonder how you folks managed to tolerate it for so long.’
‘We have no voice here.’
‘One has to find one’s voice.’
‘And how does one do that?’
‘Simply by speaking up.’
I was silent.
Tambe came into the office and stopped briefly at Satwalekar’s desk. The tablecloth and the flowers were, as expected, hurting his eyes. He called for the peon the moment he sat at his desk.
‘Mahadev, who got the flowers?’
‘The new saheb.’
‘And the tablecloth?’
‘That too.’
‘Why?’
Mahadev had no answer. The question was rhetorical anyway. Tambe found an opportunity to punish the doer, or so he thought. He asked,
‘Who opened the window?’
‘The same saheb.’
‘What about the files there?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Call him.’
Satwalekar stood in front of Tambe.
‘You cannot change things around without my permission, okay?’
‘Understood.’
‘Why did you open the window?’
‘For better light, and to let some air in.’
‘We have tube-lights for the lighting here.’
‘We have lots of power cuts these days. And natural light is after all…’
‘What about the files there?’
‘They’ve been stacked on the other side.’
‘Have you mixed them up?’
‘Ask for any file you want. I’ll get it in five minutes.’
‘How can I tell which file I want and when?’
‘Just a minute.’
Satwalekar went to his desk and came back with a sheet of paper. He showed it to Tambe.
‘This is the list of files I have moved. It contains all the details. Ask for any file you want.’
Tambe had lost the argument. Trying to save face, he said in an irritated tone,
‘It’s fine. You may go now.’
The office boy brought tea at eleven o’clock sharp. Satwalekar refused it. Five minutes later, a uniformed waiter walked in with a tray. It was obvious that Satwalekar had ordered tea from the hotel across
