Page 78 - DENG503_INDIAN_WRITINGS_IN_LITERATURE

Indian Writings in Literature

Notes Gokul now looked up at Hari and said, ‘You be quiet, Hari! Calling Mahajan a raakshas at the top
of your voice! You talk too much. Some day they will hear you and chuck you out. You have too
long a tongue. That tongue won’t earn you your living, boy.’ But Gokul was smiling when he said
this. He had a small, benign face and a dome-shaped head sparsely covered with wisps of hair.
Ramchand also gave him a wan smile. Chander was unlocking a cupboard nearby. All the walls
of the shop were either covered with shelves, or had sturdy built-in cupboards that could be
locked up with the more expensive or delicate stock inside. While the three were talking, Chander
didn’t even look up once. He was a quiet man, very tall, and with a very pronounced Adam’s
apple. He often did not turn up for work, and maintained a melancholic silence whenever Mahajan
shouted at him for this or for any other reason. He would just take in all the insults Mahajan
hurled at him, staring into space all the while, biting his lower lip, not answering any of Mahajan’s
angry questions.
The two oldest shop assistants, Shyam and Rajesh, had been working at Sevak Sari House for a
much longer time than any of the others. Shyam had greying hair, a thin face and a large gap
between his two front teeth. Rajesh was plump, with slightly rheumy eyes. The two kept to
themselves, confabulating in low voices about the rising prices, nought per cent interest home
loans and where you could get the best bargains for household electrical appliances. They were
paid slightly more than all the other shop assistants. Everyone knew this, but it was never
mentioned, and the two men never admitted it officially. Shyam had a young daughter he was
hoping to marry off to Rajesh’s son. They lived in their own set, middle-aged world, went out for
tea and meals together, and called all the other shop assistants ‘boys’, even Gokul, who was only
a few years younger than them.

The Sari Shop revolves around the anxieties of Ramchand, a lowly shop assistant
at Sevak Sari House in Amritsar. Ramchand was not born poor. His parents are
killed in an accident and he is brought up by his uncle.

Ramchand spent the morning arranging new stock. Bhimsen Seth, the owner of the shop, came in
at about eleven. The shop had been set up by his grandfather, Sevak Ram. Bhimsen had taken over
at the age of twenty. That was when a fifteen-year-old Mahajan had come to him looking for work.
Bhimsen had taken him in, and Mahajan had worked his way up in the business. He had, over
thirty years, proved himself to be honest, reliable, enterprising and a hard taskmaster. Now it was
Mahajan who looked after most of the practical affairs of the shop, though under Bhimsen’s
supervision. Most of the time now, Bhimsen Seth didn’t need to come to the shop every day. He
had some other businesses running that he also had to see to. Ramchand didn’t know whether
Seth was his surname or if it was just a respectful way of addressing him. He had asked Gokul
once, but Gokul didn’t know either, and Ramchand didn’t dare to ask anyone else. On the rare
occasions that Bhimsen Seth did come to the shop, he just reclined prosperously in a corner of the
first floor, surrounded by a garish assortment of pictures of Hindu Gods, burning incense sticks
and greedily counting hundred rupee notes with his thick, stubby fingers. Ramchand watched
him out of the corner of his eye sometimes. Bhimsen would intently flip the edges of the notes,
and, if he happened to look up and catch Ramchand’s eye, he would give him a slow, fleshy smile
that chilled Ramchand’s heart. He always found Bhimsen’s benevolent manner a little sinister.

72 LOVELY PROFESSIONAL UNIVERSITY