The last time that I saw him was almost four decades ago, but his face is familiar as if I saw him yesterday. A lean man of medium height in his early fifties with uneven teeth and greying stubble of two or three days on his face, he spoke chaste Kannada, with a Tamil accent. I am sure he won’t complain about this article — for, one he would be 90-plus, if alive, two, his literacy was limited to painfully scribbling his name on leave letter forms and most important, he never complained about anything.
He was a worker in a public sector undertaking in Bengaluru, where I joined as a shift engineer in the 1980s. His job was to carry material and semi-finished tool components on a trolley to different sections of the shop and also to the neighbouring production units. Having no other skills, he must have been doing the same job all his life.
This factory had an interesting work methodology. Suppose a job needed five raw materials, a job card would be raised with only two or three of them. It was the headache of the engineer concerned to somehow procure the others and complete the work on time! Our man knew exactly which mechanic had squirrelled away which material. He would come and say, “Armuga has this MS plate with him. Go and talk to him nicely. He will give you”, or “Machine shop II supervisor has this stainless steel rod. Go and give an indent to him. He will give you. Better hurry up.”
With the passage of time, he became more dominating: “I have brought this rod from scrap stores, saying it is for you. Go and give the indent soon. Don’t forget and spoil my name!” He had also acquired some engineering knowledge: “OHNS is not available. No worry. You can use HCHC. It is available with Thomas!”
He also had a hold on the heads of the neighbouring units! If something is held up in the heat treatment unit, he would directly fight with the manager and see that our items were cleared in the very next firing on the furnace. If the inspection of any finished article is delayed, he would go and talk to the supervisor, “What is this? My boss has already received three calls from GM about this” and most likely, it will be cleared by the end of the day! I am yet to figure out, how, with no knowledge of drawings or even writing, he could identify our jobs!
During breaks, coffee and tea would be served at our tables. He had voluntarily taken upon himself to wash the cups of four or five supervisory staff. But if, by chance, we had a guest from a neighbouring unit, he would tell to his face: “I will not wash your cup. Wash it yourself!”
But his greatest quality that endeared him to me was his uncomplaining nature. In a set-up where everyone seemed to carry truckloads of complaints, he never complained about anything. Once or twice, when I asked him about his children, he promptly closed the topic: “Not worth talking sir, leave it.”
In 1981, all public sector employees went on a strike for 80-odd days, and many worker families were reduced to penury with a three-month salary loss. Later, when the units opened, I casually asked him how he was managing the difficulties. He promptly answered: “Whatever happens to others, will happen to me also” and walked away. I had better sense than offend his self-respect by offering any help. Only once did he complain about the late-night shifts: “My only problem is that there is so much noise in my colony in the afternoons that I cannot make up my sleep deficit.”
Finally, one day, when I told him that I had resigned from my job and would be leaving the coming week, he blankly looked into my eyes for all of five seconds and silently carted his trolley away, though I knew there was nothing to be moved.
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