DAKA MUNSHI: A Story of a Boor Literate Child

by Byasa Kabi Fakir Mohan Senapati

॥ पिता धर्मः पिता स्वर्गः पिता ही परमं तपः

पितरि प्रीतिमापन्ने प्रीयन्ते सर्वदेवताः॥

“Father is my dharma, Father is my heaven, he is the ultimate penance of my life. If he is happy, all Deities are pleased.”

This is a story of the ill-treatment of an old father by his Educated son when the widower father accompanies the brash son to his place of work. In contrast, you will read Father’s unconditional compassion for his son.

Every parent has dreams to Educate their Child and in our Story, Hari Singh also did everything to educate his son. But sadly his son named Gopal forgot Hari Singh's sacrifices and hardship rather he treated him like a bonded labor (less than a slave also). The worst part is when his father was affected by a severe cough, Gopal furiously said “ Take this old man and throw him on the thorny fence of screw pine”

After this degraded level of humiliation, Hari Singh left Gopal’s home in that cold Midnight. How a piteous situation! He did not cry or said a single word to Gopal as he wanted his peace so he left With Deep Silence, but in his heart, he said “My blessings are always with you and you Remain well”

My question is, Can a tree survive without roots? Of course No, then why we younger generations keep forgetting our parents. Why we abandon them in an Old age house? Why we don’t stay with them when they need us? If they helped us to Take our 1st step then why can't we help them in their Last Steps? Why? Why?

We need to understand that parents' love for us is the only Relationship in this Fake, Illusional world which is True, Pure, Selfless, and unconditional.

“One should not forget his roots”

“||विद्या ददाति विनयं ||“

With knowledge comes modesty/docility and one becomes more open to learning

Education Does not mean to Humiliate if your father is un-educated or Feeling ashamed of their Clothing Style. It’s your father who bought that English book or admitted you to School to be educated. It’s his Literacy which instigated that “Whatever opportunity they did not get, they provide You to fly high”. Due to their uncountable sacrifices, we are living in comfort, Never Underestimate that soul whose only aim is to see your SMILE.

The unconditional love that parents have for their children cannot be explained in words. It's not because we are part of them or scientifically born from their genes, rather I will say we are a DREAM that they Planted.

Parenthood is not comprised based on caste, creed or religion, or even status. For example, an IAS officer has no time for their children so he buys an expensive remote-controlled car whereas a farmer saves money to buy a simple static car. But here the point is not about the price of that car, its about the desire to see that smile in children’s faces. That SMILE matters million dollars which is uncountable and not purchasable.

We never understand the love behind that harsh tone of our father. We see a superhero in movies but if you really think then its non-other than our own Parents who stands with us when the wind flows in opposite direction. Starting from teaching us “How to walk? To giving all opportunity which they did not get” in everything they try us to be ahead of them.

A continuous try to make us their first priority, They forget their health, and wake up the whole night when we suffer from small fever They save their entire earning so that we can go to that “English Medium School” After coming from work, they also become tired but they come and sit with us to help us in our assignments. We go for exams and they Pray for us. The list goes on. So let's take a pause and go to our story.

This is a story of an illiterate Father and his dream to educate his son.

Hari Singh worked in the Postal Department. He was the head peon in the General Post Office of Cuttack. Initially he joined the department as an ordinary mail peon and thereafter worked for a long time in the rural post offices. It was only ten years ago that he became a regular peon. At present his salary was nine rupees per month.

He used to manage his family somehow in a state of utter indigency. His wife and his son stayed in the village and, as for him, he lived in Cuttack renting accommodation. He used to send a sum of four rupees to his village every month. His only son Gopal was pursuing his study in the upper primary school in his village. He used to incur an amount of two annas [ 12 pice] every month towards the tuition fee of his son. Besides, he would purchase slate, books, and paper every now and then. That involved additional expenditure. When there was the burden of such extra expenditure, Hari Singh was compelled to somehow manage his own expenses with difficulty. It was the city of Cuttack where everything of daily necessary had to be purchased. Yet he used to adjust his needs within five rupees. It was his dream that with proper education, his son Gopal would become a successful person. Hence Hari Singh did not mind the difficulties that came his way but he did not discontinue Gopal’s schooling. And his precise dream was that one day Gopal, after completing his education, would become a postmaster somewhere.

But one day the Head Postmaster, after examining the service records of Hari Singh, said, ‘Ah! Hari Singh! You’ve already reached your age of superannuation. And so you can’t continue in service.’

The words of the postmaster made Hari Singh brood over the issue seriously. He had been thinking of bringing his son to Cuttack and giving him English education. But, now, with his service about to finish, he dipped into remorse at the prospect of discontinuance of his son’s education.

The postmaster was full of compassion for Hari Singh. The latter used to visit the house of the postmaster every evening after completing his government duty. He used to perform some work there to help the postmaster. At the end of the office hours when the postmaster used to take an armchair in the evening and pored over the English newspaper, it was Hari Singh who would prepare a smoking pipe for his boss with sweet and strong stuff and hand it over to him. [So, the postmaster of a GPO used to take ganja those days! ]

One evening the postmaster was reading the newspaper. As was his won't, Hari Singh prepared the smoking pipe and proffered it to his boss. The latter drew a couple of deep puffs out of the pipe. The smoke came out of his mouth, involuntarily in steady streams. And he dozed off. His mood became relaxed. Hari Singh thought –Aha! It was the right moment. He lay prostrated before the postmaster and implored that the education of his son would be discontinued if he was asked to retire. The postmaster listened to his prayer. His eyes still closed, he said, ‘Well, submit your application and I’ll see.’

The postmaster had a good rapport with the senior officers of the department. When they paid a visit to the post office they used to stay and dine in his house. The postmaster had seen to it that the officers were kept happy by treating them well. As long as such senior officers stayed in the house of the postmaster, Hari Singh used to be present there. He had a reputation for being a very serviceable fellow. Besides he knew the likes and dislikes of the visiting officers. On such occasions, Hari Singh used to get detained in the house of the postmaster until it was midnight. Then he used to go to his house and cook his meal. Sometimes the visiting officers would fall ill suddenly and it was Hari Singh who used to be the first to reach there. He would give lemon water to such ailing officers. [Did they booze? Italics mine.] After they went to sleep, he used to go home. This was precisely the reason why all the senior officers knew Hari Singh well and liked him too.

Hari Singh wrote an application and handed it over to the postmaster. The latter recorded his recommendation and sent the same to the senior officer. Then favorable orders were received from the headquarters and Hari Singh was allowed to continue in service. The news made Hari Singh very happy and he wrote a letter to his family to inform them about the development.

But Hari Singh’s happiness was short-lived. His wife suddenly caught pneumonia. Hari Singh took leave and rushed home. By the time he reached his village, his wife was at the terminal stage of her life. Seeing her husband she raised her hands and saluted him for the last time. She also motioned to get the dust from her husband’s feet. Hari Singh complied with the last request of his wife and then she closed her eyes forever. In this way, Hari Singh’s family got devastated. He finished the funeral of his wife and came back to Cuttack with his son Gopal.

After a few days Hari Singh superannuated. At that time Gopal was studying in middle school. Hari Singh got a very small pension. How could he have managed his expenses at such a meager pension? He had to dispose of the utensils from his house to meet occasional expenses. While in service, he had saved some money in a bank. Now he had to withdraw the amount and spend it. He harbored a belief that when his son would get a job, he would be out of poverty. Even Gopal used to endorse his father’s belief, saying, ‘Father, borrow something and allow me to study. I’ll repay them as soon as I get a job.’ In this way Hari Singh managed to continue the study of his son, eking out a miserable living himself.

In time Gopal Singh passed his middle school examination. Hari Singh contacted his old bosses. He beseeched them to give a job to Gopal. The senior officers of the department bestowed their kindness on Hari Singh. As a result, Gopal Singh got a job in the department to become the sub-postmaster in the post office of Makrampur. His starting salary was twenty rupees a month. At first, he was to be on probation at a post office in Cuttack and learn its work for four months.

The day Gopal got the job, Hari Singh quite wistfully remembered his wife and shed a lot of tears. He thought — her son had become an officer after finishing his study. If only the old lady were alive! She would have been so very happy at that hour of success. She was not a lucky soul. And she had to leave this world even before her son was happily settled in life. Then Hari Singh prayed God to give long life to Gopal.

At the end of the first month of his job, Gopal came home with his salary of twenty rupees and gave the entire amount to his father. Wow! In his entire life Hari Singh had not seen so much an amount at a time and so he counted it again and again. He was only too happy to realize that his son was getting such a fat salary. He realized his son was now an officer. He needed a good pair of shoes and a set of decent dress. With the amount in his hand, he rushed to the market. And he bought a new shirt, a dhoti, a pair of socks and shoes. He also bought a few other things that he thought Gopal might need.

Gopal was known as Dak Munshi in the post office even though his full name was Babu Gopalchandra Singh. Now he got a circle of officers to socialize. He had started writing everything in English these days. But in contrast when he used to return home after his office hours, he would find his scantily clad dirty old father busy in household chores. In fact, these days Hari Singh remained ever busy at home, all the while bothered how to make his son live in comfort. He was not only cooking good meals for his son but also accomplished all other jobs at home.

Days passed. Now, Gopal the Dak Munshi had long started to think that the old fellow, his father, was a fool. Such was the attitudinal change of the son! Obviously, he had no love left in his heart for his old father. Whenever he saw the old fellow loitering around, he would be overtaken by anger. Thus, with no knowledge of English, the dirty unlettered old fellow wearing uncivilized clothes turned an object of Gopal’s hatred. He got increasingly apprehensive that his reputation would be ruined if he ever addressed the old fellow as a father.

One day it so happened that some ladies, clad in fashionable gowns, were standing in front of the post office. They all were educated, ladies. And Hari Singh, clad in his usual dirty clothes, passed in front of them. What is more, he was then half-naked. From the corner of his eyes, Gopal Babu could witness the scene. In his mind, he got greatly embarrassed. ‘What a shame! It’s very shameful. Now I must drive this chap out of my house. Or else my prestige will go this way.’

Then one day Gopal said it unambiguously to his father, ‘You’ll not come out in the open when gentlemen come to my house. What the hell do you think you are? Better be informed: You haven’t done any favor to me. Stay here if you like, or else get out of my house.’

Listening to his son giving him an ultimatum, Hari Singh’s head reeled. In a fit of speechlessness, he sat down. As for him, it was like a wound in an inconvenient part of his body: he was neither in a position to see it for himself nor able to show it to anybody. Whom should he share his pain with? Very wistfully, he remembered his wife and shed a few drops of silent tears. Then he feared, ‘Ah! What am I doing? It’s going to bring misfortune to my son if I shed tears.’ And so he wiped them and became silent.

Since then Gopal talked but only rarely to his father. It was his idea that his father was purely empty-headed. In contrast, he was an officer himself. So, what was there to talk to a father who did not know English?

A spell of four months elapsed in the meantime. Gopal completed learning his work during that spell. Now was time he started for Makrampur, his new place of posting. He did not say a word about that to his father. On the day of departure, he got up early in the morning and finished his routines. Then he dressed himself to get out. While leaving, he commanded his father, ‘Father, listen to me carefully. I’m going to Makrampur. Bring all these things — they’re not much. And be warned — don’t engage a coolie. If you engage any, I’m not going to pay.’

Gopal carried an umbrella under his armpit and began to walk wagging his stick. Old Hari Singh prepared a bundle of the belongings and followed his son. Streams of tears rolled down his cheeks. Weak as he was, he was not in a position to walk fast. After taking halts at least at five to six places, he ultimately reached a Makrampur post office. By then Gopal had already reached there. On arrival of his father, he rebuked him for the delay. The old fellow sulked but remained silent over this.

A few days passed in this way. Since Hari Singh had spent a long time in the town, a purely rural area such as Makrampur proved unhealthy for him. Soon he was down with cough and cold. To add to its severity he got a fever too. At night the bout of cough became more severe. He had fits of cough all through the night. As a result, Gopal Singh could not sleep peacefully. One night he got so angry that he called a peon and ordered, ‘Take this old man and throw him on the thorny fence of screw pine.’

The peon who was ordered like that had no education and, more importantly, possessed no knowledge of English. Yet the fellow had his conscience intact. He knew what was good and what was not. He came near Hari Singh and found that the old man was running high fever…and gathered that the fellow was even without food for the previous three days in a row. The peon was moved by compassion and did not carry out the orders of his boss.

The night wore on and it became midnight soon. The old man’s fit of cough reappeared more severely. As he went on coughing incessantly, Gopal became extremely furious. He came rushing to his father and boxed twice on his chest. Then he threw his bed outside. Now it proved to be the final assault and so Hari Singh chose to go back to his village by that very night.

It was a dark night but Hari Singh managed to traverse the distance up to his village. He had two acres of landed property which he entrusted to a farmer on sharecropping. Whatever produce he received in his share took care of his needs for the food grains. Besides he was getting some pension. The amount was enough for his pocket expense. In this way, Hari Singh lived in his village happily thereafter.

Moral:

I am concluding that

Hari Singh is the icon of Indian culture full of emotion, love, forgiveness, and sacrifice with full surrenderers. But in the present scenario, it's disappearing from the rich and vibrant land “Bharat(India)”. These above unique attributes are reflected in the subtle concise of Hari Singh but the Gopal: the young and Modern colorful youth is the identity of Western culture. He is influenced and squeezed with dress, diets, and drugs which is the very panic at the present hour. Whenever India will imitate rich western culture like Significant work, commitment, Truthfulness, and justice to their work assignments, a country will be flourished undoubtedly.

As reflected in Ram Charita Manas by Goswami Tulsidas,

|| मनी बिनु फनी जिमि जल बिनु मिना:

मम जीबन तिमि तुमहि अधीना ||

Snake cant live without jewel and Fish can’t live without water similarly life without Parents are like Life without Air. Here water is our Parents and we children are fish. Just like this Sloka, our life is Meaningless without Our Parents Presence.

Omm Shanti! ॐ शान्तिः

Always Respect your Parents!!

Celebrated by

Swayanshu

Reference:

http://ramblingnanda.blogspot.com/2013/12/dak-munshi-long-forgotten-story.html