Skip to main content

Godlove’s Duty-II

I always felt father-like when a kid touches my hands. I could not see Rahul’s hands, although I did feel his touch on my right arm. He was holding it. I could not see his face properly. Everything around me was a blur.

No one talked. I could hear someone sniffling. It was Rekha. I could not see her, either. I blinked away some watery membrane that calloused over my eyes and made my vision fuzzy.

Then, I told the story:
Image Courtesy: Google
When the prime minister of One’thumbria woke up that day, he found a messenger from the king on his doorstep. He knew something would be wrong. That was unusual—a messenger from the most powerful person in the kingdom. Usually he would wake up at about 6 in the morning and after all his morning chores went to the palace with a bag in his hand.

Once the Minister was told what to do, the messenger went back. A heat of anxiety rose inside the minister. He was told to do one of the most difficult jobs he had ever faced. 

“Find out the best servant in the palace. The award was one million gold coins.”—the message said.

His wife came by right at that time. Her name was Chakky. She asked, “What caused this gloom on your face my lord?”
“The king wants to find out the best servants in the palace. How can I? I have no way in front of me to find the best one,” the minister said.
“But why not my lord?” asked the woman.
“Because there are many people who does their duty well. It’s not easy to find a single person. And doing one’s duty well doesn’t mean one is happy with what one is doing. It could be out of the king’s fear that they are doing what they do.”

After listening to her husband intently, Chakky said, “Don’t worry, I have a way out of this situation.” She mumbled something secretly into her husband’s ear.

The minister got up, though confused he smiled and got ready to go to palace.

He walked through the alleys and verandas in the palace. He kept his face down as if deep in some thought, but focused on each and every person he could observe. He held a list secretly inside his long robe, from which he could pick each servant from his name and work. He stopped by each employee and asked two questions.

At last he reached at the end of the list. There was only one person left—the gardener. His name was Godlove. He was a young man.

He could have become a soldier, the prime minister thought.  The prime minister was an aged person and he looked like a thin post dug on the ground. The young man looked well built and strong like a thick growth of teakwood.

The minister went near him and decided to ask him the same two questions he had asked others. The young man seeing the minister coming towards him stopped his work among the vegetables and stood up.   

“Why do you work here?” the minister asked. To this question all the others had said somewhat like ‘I didn’t get the job I liked, that is the reason,’ or ‘everyone does it, don’t’ they?’ and the minister remembered what his wife had whispered into his ear.
“One must love his job to be able to do it better.”

Godlove looked puzzled at first at the sudden question of the minister. He smiled quickly and politely and said; “My father taught me the best thing in life is to serve others. It gives happiness. When I thought about it, I found plants and vegetables give better result when served. That is why I serve them. I am their servant.” He looked down, afraid of being punished for not saying ‘I am the king’s servant’, as he saw the minister’s face changing.

The minister shot his second question, “What would you do if you were expelled from your job right now?” From others he had received answers such as; ‘I work so well, the king will never consider sacking me ’or‘ I will die for sure of starving.’ The minister’s wife had warned him of such answers.

The young gardener had no confusion this time. He said; “I would be happy still, because the fixed work schedules in the palace and the interference of other weak skilled workers ruin my garden, mostly. I am sorry, but that is the truth. I will keep serving plants better outside. I love them. I know they will help me survive.”

After answering the question, Godlove’s face turned red and he looked down. He said to the minister, “I know I have spoken against the king and I will be punished. I beg you please do not humiliate me in front of others. I will go away at once. Do not harm me…” his eyes welled up and hands were folded together.

Image Courtesy: Google
The prime minister spoke up, holding Godlove’s shoulder, “The king wanted me to find out the best worker in the palace. I didn’t know how to, so I asked my wife. And she told me one thing, “Those who love their job never depend on others, they will find a way to keep on doing their work, at one place or another.” And dear Godlove I am proud that I found out the best employee in this palace—it’s you.”

“But…sir…” Godlove fumbled; his eyes all watery.
“Yes, you are. For you, your love is your duty.” And Godlove had a sack full of gold with him in a guarded chariot when he went back home that evening.

I looked at Rahul as I stopped the narration. He was staring at me intently. 

[To be continued...]


Popular posts from this blog


Ancient Promises is Jaishree Misra's debut book with a fresh narrative voice in comparison with the other novelists of her time.
An unforgettable story, told in first person narrative, Ancient Promises combines in its narrative strategy, romance, myth and social criticism. Jane Austen succeeded in bringing irony in her novels, through interesting and poignant observations, which were most often witty as well. Taking the same line of novel-writing strategy, Jaishree Misra gives opportunity for readers to enjoy the book in multiple perspectives than just a single faceted love story.
Of course, Janu, the protagonist is the narrator and this is her story. However, this is also the story of Kerala and its marriage customs. Many irrational and unjust customs still exist in this southern land situated in India's south. Many European cultures have established trade relations with Kerala, even before the time of the British. But in the long run, it can also be observed that the nature …

Spam Luck

Our client is looking for 100 English writers; we could pay up to $10,000/month with bonuses for writers who deliver good content on a regular basis. No experience required. Payment via Paypal, Check, or a Bank Wire.
Mithun Vadakkedathu signed out. But he did not forget to mark the mail he just read as spam. He had been signing up in job sites and this has become his day job.
The previous week he had gone to the Parassinikadavu temple and paid for Vellaattam, the worship dance for pleasing Muthappan, the deity of Parassinikkadavu temple, the ancient God of the commoner.
He groped in his wallet which had holes inside and threads were coming off from its bottom. The outer layer of rexine was removed from many places by time.
Mithun took out three pieces of paper, three tickets: one red, one grey, one pale white in colour. He murmured; “O God, all my prayers, all the Vellaattam I paid for are gone without purpose. I must have done something terrible that I still do not know myself. Perhap…

DELHI IS NOT FAR BY RUSKIN BOND: A Love Story without Losses

“…and I know that this one lifetime, however long, cannot satisfy my heart” (111).
__ Ruskin Bond
The Commentator says; When it’s about love, some believe it’s natural to make mistakes. The truth is ‘mistakes’ and ‘love’ do not coexist. Mistakes are not love. Love is not a mistake. Before the book review, let me recount to you a love story flew by my life a couple of months back. As some of you know, I love blogging. As some others of you are well aware, more than blogging, I love the experience of writing. Blog or my other publishing ventures, this love for writing is at the core of it all. A couple of months before, I had thought of writing a review of the book Delhi is Not Far by Ruskin Bond, author of The Lamp is Lit. Opening a word document, I wrote the title of the book with the author’s name as a ‘clever’ appendage. Then I kept it to gather some inspiration and relevance. Then I forgot. To be more precise, I pushed the priority to love to another rather unimportant spot and, for…