| Some people are born story tellers "" they make the most mundane events out to be high adventure. And then there are people who look like they won't recognise adventure even if it biffed them on the nose "" but actually the most fantastic things happen to them. My electrician (I've always called him Sardarji ) is one of them. |
| Last week, I called him to change a couple of bulbs. He sauntered in alone, and consequently had nobody to prop the ladder on which he was risking life and limb. "Work has been harder since my assistant Sajjan Singh left...," he sighed. What happened to him, I asked. "It's a strange story..." he said. As if on cue, his tea arrived and he began his story. |
| "Six months ago, Sajjan Singh told me he urgently needed to go to his village for a week," narrated Sardarji, adding, "there was some family problem, he said, and he'd be back as soon as it was settled." He took a loan of Rs 5,000 from Sardarji , and off he went. |
| "Sajjan had been working for me for many years. He was quiet, dependable and good at his work. So you can imagine how let-down I felt when he didn't return even after a month," said Sardarji. But the electrician knew these things happened, so he philosophically forgot about the money he had loaned Sajjan Singh, and began looking for a new assistant. "Then the police came to my door, asking for Sajjan Singh," said Sardarji . Shocked, he asked them why they wanted his ex-assistant. "Murder," they said and went away. |
| A couple of days later, Sardarji's doorbell rang well past midnight. It was Sajjan Singh, face covered by a blanket. "He looked like those criminals on television, hiding their faces after being apprehended by the police!" he described. But he had known Sajjan Singh for so long that he let him in. "How did you get into this mess?" Sardarji asked him, "and do you know the police here suspect you of murder?" |
| Sajjan Singh wearily took off his blanket. "I've been evading the police ever since I left Delhi," he said, "I went back to my village in Etah to settle a family dispute. Things got a little heated and the next thing I knew, I was standing with a smoking gun in my hand and five dead men at my feet!" |
| Sajjan Singh's family urged him to forget about leading an honest life as an electrician and become a dacoit instead. "They said I'd be following a family tradition, as my grandfather had been a notorious outlaw in the Chambal ravines," he said. He had no better option, he said, for if he surrendered to the police, he'd probably be hanged. |
| "Anyway," said Sajjan to his former employer, who was by now shaking with fright at the idea of the police going after him for aiding and abetting a felon, "I still remember I'm in your debt. Please may I take another few months to repay your loan? You're anyway under my protection, and if you ever run into trouble in Etah, just say you are Daku Sajjan Singh's friend!" |
| At this moment, his shawl gaped open, allowing Sardarji to glimpse an impressive arsenal the electrician-turned-dacoit deemed fit to travel with. Sardarji thanked him profusely for dropping by even though the time was a little unorthodox, and said quite convincingly, "What money? I don't remember loaning you any!!" |
| Tea finished, Sardarji took his leave, saying, "he was such a good electrician, he'd have had a bright future if he hadn't blown his fuse that fateful day!" |
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