STINK

The old man's wrinkled face was wet with tears. He told Ajai that his
sick wife had died and entreated him to take back the unused medicines
and injections.
Ajai looks towards me. As he was engaged only yesterday, he is unable
to excercise his own discretion in several matters. I am glad that he
is cautious. I go to help him. A glance is enough for me to identify
the shop's spurious material at once.
"Sorry, baba," I say. "Things once sold are not taken back. If you
like, I can exchange these with other medicines."
The old man entreats again for compassion and looks up expectantly.
Ajai's eyes also seem to support the old man's cause.
"Haven't I already told you? Now go. Let us do our work."
The old man quietly leaves the shop with his head bowed down.
"Sir, his wife has expired. It is possible that he is in dire need of
money." My behavior apparently displeases Ajai.
"Ajai, you seem to think a great deal." I softly say to him. "If we
begin to think as you do, we will have to big good-bye to
shop-keeping."
He gets busy taking out medicines from the cartons for the customers.
I castigate over his circumstances. He gets a job here after a long
spell of unemployment. His wife, a T.B. patient, is lying in the
hospital. I feel he will soon adapt himself to my way of working. I
get back to my chair.
One customer is insisting to have a cash memo from Ajai.
"Look please! The cash memos are at present under print," says Ajai
as instructed by me.
"In that case, you make out a receipt on a plain paper and put your
stamp on it." The customer is adamant in his demand.
"Don't waste our time." I get up and snatch away the medicines from
his hand. "Buy the medicines from wherever you feel satisfied."
"Sir," peering into my eyes, Ajai asks as soon as the customer leaves
the shop, "do we sell spurious medicines?"
"Look, you have started thinking again." Offering attractive
incentives, I affably tell him, "you will get, over and above your
slary, 20% of the sales effected through you. Our daily sale has
considerably improved as a result of your good salesmanship and
business tact. I hold hard working people in very high esteem."
"I will not be able to do this work." These icy words of his,
omitting 'Sir' in addressing me, pierced my ears for the first time.
"You ...should at least think of your ailing wife..." I say. I,
however, feel confounded at my weak and faltering words.
He picks up his Tiffin box and without even a look in my direction
walks out of the shop with determined steps.
My perplexed eyes keep following his departing figure. I see
customers crowing along the counter again, Ajai's face does not stop
hovering before me. I shake my head to dispel the hallucination and
begin to pick up the medicines. I soon become drenched with
perspiration. The mixed stink of sweat and medicines befouls my brain.
I feel sunken in bewilderment. I had never before felt such an
offensive stench.

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