Shakuntala Sinha
It’s a pretty old story. I was living with my widowed mother in a small house. I never saw my father’s face except the one in the album. Although my mother never accepted that she was a widow. Whenever I wanted to know about my dad my mom said “ Your Dad was in the army. He was sent to war but he never returned nor the army could trace him. I was told that your dad was MIA, missing in action. “
Anyway we learnt to live without dad. Mother used to get wages regularly due to my dad. After graduation I joined a school as a teacher. We were neither rich nor poor. But whatever was our earning, we never begged before anyone or took any loan for our expenses. We knew to live within our limited resources.
We lived on the ground floor. There was a one room unit on the first floor which was rented to an uncle. Mother wanted a tenant not for extra income but for having moral support of a male member in our house. Neither I nor my mom knew much about him but he has been living for a long time, possibly a year after dad’s death or MIA. I used to call him Punjabi uncle. He came to India as a refugee after the partition of India. He lost everything including all assets and family members. With government aid, he started his small business. He opened a Dhaba on government allotted land near the railway station in our town.
Punjabi uncle was quite happy with his business. He could not study beyond elementary level.He knew only urdu. He had enough land in Pakistan and he was a rich farmer there. He had a savings account in the local bank. I used to do his banking business. Whatever he saved after keeping required money for his business and payment of wages to his workers, he used to give me cash to deposit in his bank account. He had four workers in his Dhaba, just a full time cook, two waiters and a part time maid for cleaning utensils. Usually the cash he used to give me for depositing in his bank account was not much. Even then I am sure it must have grown up to a substantial amount during the last few decades.
Punjabi uncle had a peculiar habit, he used to regularly buy a couple of lottery tickets. He used to calculate his lucky number and asked me to buy tickets ending with these two digits.Unfortunately he was able to win only Rs. 500 / so far. He used to ask me to see the result.Those were the days when no mobile phones or internet connections were available. The results were published in the newspaper. I used to get local newspapers but the lottery results were not published in that paper.To get the results I used to go to the agent or to the public library. I was also lured by his habit and I also started buying lottery tickets for myself though not regularly. I had no preference for any lucky number, I just used to buy randomly but I failed to win even a single penny. Usually I used to put a tick mark on the back of my Punjabi uncle’s lottery ticket to differentiate it from mine.
Punjabi uncle used to take breakfast and lunch in his own Dhaba. He did not eat any dinner. He took just a glass of milk which my mother used to boil for him and I gave him in the night. One day when he gave me cash to deposit in his bank, I asked him “ Uncle, you said that you have no relatives here in India. I am sorry to ask but what will happen to your money if you die. “
He laughed and said “ Some will go to you and some to charity particularly to needy ones and refugee’s welfare. For me everyone is my relative. “
After a few years it was the festive season - Dussehra and Diwali . Many lottery companies were offering bumper draw lottery tickets. Uncle preferred to buy government sponsored lottery tickets specially Sikkim’s lottery. In this festive season he asked me to buy tickets for him. As usual he asked me to buy tickets ending with the last two digits of his choice, his lucky numbers. I thought why not try these numbers with my own ticket ?'' So I bought both tickets ending with similar numbers from different series.
Tomorrow was the lucky draw of lottery tickets. Uncle reminded me to see the results in the newspaper. This time when the results were out I thought to buy the newspaper from the vendor directly instead of going to the agent or the library. While returning from my school I bought the newspaper. I searched for my lottery ticket in the purse but it was not there. Then quickly I remembered that I had kept it in my diary in the drawer. On the way back I met my old friend and classmate.She insisted that I come to her house and have dinner with her.
That day by the time I reached my home, he was already there. I saw an advocate and two unknown persons in his room. I was curious to know why he needed an advocate. He said “ Nothing to worry about. The advocate had come in connection with some tax issue. The other two people were also refugees who just called on me as a courtesy visit. “
Then quickly he took out his lottery ticket and said “ This is my ticket, check if I have got any prize. “
I had kept the newspaper in my bag, I said “ I am coming with the paper. “
“ You can take the ticket with you and check in your room and let me know. “
I went into my room, took out my ticket from my diary. Unconsciously I kept both the lottery tickets shuffling while I unfolded the newspaper to find the page which had lottery’s results. I spread the newspaper on the table and checked the number which was on the top. I saw a tick mark on its back and so was sure that it was my uncle's ticket.
After seeing the result I found his number in the winner’s list. He had won Rs. 1000 /. I went running to him and said “ Punjabi uncle, you have won Rs. 1000 / this time. “
He reluctantly said “ OK, only this much was in my destiny. Jo bhi de de Malik, too kar le kabool. You take my ticket and settle it with the agent. Did you also buy a ticket ? If so, what about you ? “
“ Uncle, I did but I have yet to check. I know I will never get any prize. “
I came back to my room and started checking my number. I jumped in joy, I had won Rs. 50,000 /=. This was a big amount those days. I was overwhelmed with joy. Then I just turned on the back of the ticket to see how to claim the prize. To my utter surprise I found a tick mark on my ticket also. I shook my head and said to myself - Oh God, what a mess. I inadvertently put a tick mark on both tickets this time.
I was in two minds if this was my ticket or uncle’s. But I had already told him about his prize. It was not possible for me or my uncle to remember all the digits of the lottery ticket. I was in utter confusion, should I take advantage of doubt or not. It could be mine also or uncle’s also. My mind said to take advantage while my heart said to rethink. I explained the situation to my mother and asked her “ Mom, am I wrong if I keep this prize ? “
“ May be wrong or may not be wrong. It's very difficult to say. But in my view it’s better to be more transparent. You can go to your uncle and tell him the truth and ask his view. Don’t try to judge yourself . “
I went to my uncle and told him the story. After looking at the ticket for a few seconds he said “ To the best of my memory it’s not mine, it must be yours. You should keep the prize. “
“ Are you sure uncle ? “
“ I think so. “
I was very happy. When I told my mother she said “ He is great, he has a big and benevolent heart. You should learn from him. “
I spent the amount on renovation of my house and bought some essential items for home. After a few days two people came to my house and said “ Your uncle had a massive heart attack at his Dhaba and could not survive. “
“ I think both of you came to my house in the night a few days back. “ I said
“ Yes, you are right. We are in a hurry and are going to perform his last rites. “
“ Wait, I am also coming with you to have my uncle's last Darshan. “
I went to see my Punjabi uncle for the last time, touched his feet and prayed to God - may his soul rest in peace. The very next day the same two persons along with the advocate came to my house. Taking out a file from his briefcase the advocate said “ This is your uncle’s will. As per this 10% of his cash deposits in the bank will go to each of his four workers, and 10 % to you also. The Remaining 50 % amount will go to the local GuruDwara as a charity. The Dhaba will be run by the existing staff till they like. These two persons with me have signed the will as witnesses.”
At that time I didn’t know what the 10 % amount would be. But certainly that very night changed my life. What materialistic and financial benefits I got doesn’t matter much. Punjabi uncle’s Will gave me a lesson - a chance to broaden my vision that is not to take undue advantage of the situation and to care for other’s interests too. Had I kept the bigger prize with me without uncle’s consent, I would have felt guilty lifelong. And above all what my mom told me that night . “ Don’t judge yourself, let others judge you. “
