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creature. Glare at a labourer and he will glower back at you. Speak rudely to a Coolie and he will throw the load off his head and walk away. Reprimand a beggar and he will stare angrily at you and turn away. Even a donkey, if mistreated, will kick back. But the poor Clerk! Scold him, abuse him, kick him and he will not so much as frown. He has more control over himself than a saint. He is the picture of contentment, tolerance and obedience, the epitome of the noblest of human qualities.
    Even ruins have their better days of glory. On the night of Diwali, they are lighted up. During monsoons, they have green moss on them. They reflect the changing moods of Nature. The poor Clerk never changes. His pale face never lights up with a smile. The rains do not bring relief to his dry as dust existence.
    Lala Fatehchand was one such clerk. It is said that a man's name affects his fortunes. This was proved wrong in the case of Lala Fatehchand. His name meant
Winner.
But it would not be an exaggeration to call him Haarchand
(Loser)
. A failure in office, a failure among friends, he had faced only setbacks and disappointments.
    Fatehchand had no sons; only three daughters. He had no brothers, only two sisters-in-law. He had very little money but a heart full of gold. He was kindness and tolerance personified. Cheated by many, he had not one true friend with whom he could share confidences. He was in poor health. At the age of thirty-two, he had salt and pepper hair. His eyesight was poor; so was his digestion. His complexion was pale, his cheeks sunken. His back was bent and heart empty of courage. He would go to office at nine and return home at six. He did not have the heart to go out in the evening. He had no knowledge of what was happening in the outside world. His entire life revolved around his office. He constantly worried about losing his job. He was concerned neither with religion, not with the poor. He had no interest in arts, literature, stage, the cinema or in sports. He could not remember when he had last played cards.
2.
    It was winter. There were a few clouds in the sky. When Fatehchand returned home from work, lights had already come on. He never spoke to anyone after office hours. He would simply lie down and remain silent for fifteen-twenty minutes before he opened his mouth. Only then would he speak. That evening he was lying down quietly as usual when somebody called out to him. When his youngest daughter went out to inquire who it was, she learnt that it was the office Messenger. Sharda was scrubbing utensils to prepare the evening meal.
    She said — 'Ask him what he wants. He has just come home from office. Is he needed there again?'
    The Messenger said — 'Saheb has asked him to come over immediately. There is some urgent work.'
    Fatehchand broke his silence. He raised his head and asked — 'What is it?'
    'Nothing,' replied Sharda. 'Only the office peon.'
    Fatehchand— 'The office peon! Has Saheb called for me?'
    'That's what he says. What kind of Saheb do you have? He's always sending for you. You have just come home. Why does he want you to see him again? Tell him you won't go. Can he do anything worse than take your job away?'
    Fatehchand said — 'Let me find out why he wants to see me. I had cleared my desk before I left. I'll be back soon.'
    Sharda — 'Please have something to eat before you go. Once you start talking with the peon, you will forget everything.'
    She brought out some snacks. Fatehchand looked at the plate and asked— 'Have you given the girls something to eat?'
    'Yes, yes,' replied Sharda impatiently. 'You eat!'
    Just then his youngest daughter came up. Sharda looked at her and said angrily— 'Why are you standing on my head? Go outside and play!'
    'Why do you scold her?' asked Fatehchand. 'Come here Chunni, take some snacks.'
    Chunni looked at her mother in fear and ran out.
    Fatehchand protested— 'Why have you made the poor thing run away?'
    Sharda shot