Geetanjali Krishna: Chintanand's comedy of errors

PEOPLE LIKE THEM

Whoever heard of a pundit named Ballu?" jeered his father, when Ballu announced that he'd got his first assignment as one. "And just because you've studied in the Sanskrit pathshala, it doesn't mean you have to choose such an outmoded career," he said, in a more reasonable tone.

Ballu could go in for higher studies, then teaching, he suggested. "Why, with your excellent voice, you could even be selected to do the news broadcasts in Sanskrit!" said he bracingly.

But in his heart of hearts, the post-office clerk knew that in the time of computers and Internet, there weren't too many job openings for graduates in a language that everyone seemed to have forgotten. Why couldn't Ballu be like his brother, a commerce graduate? He didn't have a great job yet, but at least he had prospects. But once a pundit, always a pundit.

Blithely unaware of the turmoil in his father's mind, Ballu was contemplating his first assignment "" a puja, ceremony, to sanctify someone's new house. He'd told them his name was Chintanand.

"How respectfully pundits are treated!" he thought when the lady of the house touched his feet, "I must remember to tell father!!" He conducted the ritual without any hitch, got a good lunch and an envelope for his efforts, and was sent off with much respect and gratitude.

Late for his afternoon lecture, Ballu stuffed the envelope in his pocket without even opening it. Anyway, the fact that people were willing to pay him, a mere student, to conduct such important rituals, was good enough for him.

In the meantime, his parents were going to visit the house of a prospective bride for him. "What does your boy do?" the prospective bride's father asked cordially. When Ballu's father told him, there was a distinct drop in temperature. They left soon after, knowing that even if this match had been made in heaven, it had just been unmade because of their son's not so modern choice of jobs.

When Ballu returned home that evening, his mother greeted him tepidly, while his father just looked away. The girl's refusal had rankled more than they'd let on, even to each other. "Here mother," said he dutifully, handing over the unopened envelope he'd received, "my first salary. I'd like you to keep it."

His mother flipped it open and her face turned ashen. "Is that what pundits are getting these days? My, My, I'm so glad we have our very own pundit in the family! It's even better than having a doctor for a son!"

She handed the envelope to his father, and hurried off to get her surprised son a cup of tea. Ballu's father looked inside, and could scarcely believe it. It contained 21 crisp 1,000-rupee notes. He hugged his son, giddy with delight, and called him his worthy successor.

Just then the phone rang. It was the munificent lady of the house he'd gone to in the morning. "I'm sorry, Chintanand ji" she stammered, "but there's been an embarrassing mistake. I think we gave you the envelope that my brother gifted me. Yours is still lying here, please could you come over tomorrow so that we can set things right?"

Ballu closed his eyes in disappointment. But it passed in a moment. He'd return the envelope; it was the only fair thing to do. But as for telling his parents, he was going to take his own sweet time. Pundit Chintanand would bask in their approval a little while more...