Daily Prompt: Sixteen Tons
How do you feel about your job? Do you spring out of bed, looking forward to work? Or, is your job a soul destroying monotony of pure drudgery or somewhere in between?
Today’s post brought memories of Tara and his job of cleaning.
My husband R was posted to Bannu. I was dismayed when I heard the news about our next destination. We packed our belongings, and so one fine day, we left Quetta for our new station.
Our son was again put in a hostel, while our daughter accompanied us.
The Flag Staff House allotted to us, was still occupied by the previous officer’s family, so we lived in the Officer’s Mess for a month.
The house was built in 1870. The Quaid, Mohd Ali Jinnah had stayed in one of the upper bedrooms, when he visited Bannu. This is one historical fact about the house, which I came to know.
The house had extensive grounds. An army of gardeners and sweepers tended the outside surroundings. The one person, who stands out in my memory, is Tara Masih.
He was a gentle, giant of a man, sweeping the outside with his broom. Without fail, he would come everyday to do his job of cleaning. Whenever I saw him, he would touch his cap deferentially at me. During the three years we spent there, I never saw him taking a break, like the others did.
He did his job of cleaning the grounds efficiently. There would be a smile on his face. When my daughter and I would come out for a walk, he would discreetly slip away to some other side.
Years later, my husband met him at an entrance to a hospital in Peshawer. R tried to slip some money into his hand. He refused to take it. R hugged him in parting.
Memories are like clouds
They weave in and out
You never know, what you will recall
While many memories will fade out