ONE sizzling afternoon of this hot and humid summer, what I saw near Regal bus stop in Saddar, Karachi, was outrageously shocking. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I saw Adam’s mother begging!
Adam, like most of us, was our lowly-paid colleague in one of the God forsaken departments of Government of Sindh. An M.Phil in Ancient History, Adam had desperately knocked at every door for an employment for five years. Apart from earning a square meal and medicines for his ailing mother, Adam’s only aim in life was to pursue research studies leading to his obtaining a Ph.D in History. After five years’ trials and tribulations, it was on the recommendations of a counsellor that Adam ended up a miserable typist in our sick department.
Adam was a novice to typing. For the first three months, he couldn’t type more than ten words in a minute. More he bore insults and humiliations from our bald and diminutive Office Superintendent, more he leaned over the rickety machine. During the next three months, he displayed remarkable improvement in his output. He typed 30 words in a minute. The bald Office Superintendent believed the improvement in the performance of Adam was outcome of his constant insults and humiliations that he heaped on him daily. ‘Asses need to be whipped,’ was his motto.
Adam’s reaction to insults was spontaneous. He leaned over closer to his machine. He surprisingly increased his tying speed, and typed more than 60 words in a minute. Then, within next few weeks, Adam astonishingly began typing more than 90 words in a minute. The Office Superintendent mischievously heaped files on Adam’s table with flags tagged to countless pages that he continuously typed without a moment’s respite. Within a week, Adam began coughing. Thereafter, Adam typed like a possessed person. He intermittently grasped his chest, and coughed, and perspired. One day we saw him vomit blood.
Adam proceeded on a few days’ leave that was never granted to him. He returned to the office drenched and consumed. The ominous day arrived. Adam fainted after vomiting blood in his yellow sputum. He regained consciousness after an hour or so. He had look of dread in his eyes. As we prepared to remove him to his house in Bhimpura, Adam said, “I do not want to die.”
“You are not going to die, Adam.” We assured him.
I saw sudden spark in his half-dead eyes. He spoke in an almost inaudible voice. He said, “In my thesis, I am on the verge of proving that man from the day he set his foot on this earth has remained in search of Everlasting Truth, and he shall remain in search of Everlasting Truth till eternity.”
We took Adam to his dilapidated abode in Bhimpura. It was a tiny one-room abode. It was Adam’s and his old mother’s bedroom, living room, dinning room, lounge, bathroom and kitchen. His mother took him in her arms, kissed him on the forehead, and ran fingers through his unkempt hair.
“I am in my mother’s arms. I have no fears.” Adam stretched his hand, and said, “Thank you for bringing me to the fold of my mother. You may go now.”
While shaking hands with him, I couldn’t muster up courage to look at the ocean of sadness in his sunken eyes. He did not let go my hand, and said, “Are you sure I am not on the verge of leaving this world?”
“Yes, I am.” I hugged him, and without looking at him said, “I am sure. I am absolutely sure, Adam.”
For the next 15 days Adam did not come to the office. On the 16 day, his old ailing mother came to the office. She submitted Adam’s leave application along with a medical certificate. The Office Superintendent forwarded the leave application to the Section Officer with adverse remarks. The Section Officer taking lenient view granted leave without pay to Adam.
Same day during lunch break, we, the friends and colleagues of Adam, sat together in the canteen and decided to contribute a day’s wages to Adam. It was implemented. Ibraheem and I collected the money and headed for Bhimpura.
In 15 days Adam had reduced into a gasping skeleton. On seeing us, a sad smile momentarily appeared on his parched lips. He tried to raise himself in his elbows.
“Keep lying, Adam.” We sat by his side on his soiled stinking cot.
Adam said, “I am getting better day-by-day.”
Ibraheem gave Adam an envelope containing our day’s wages. Adam looked vacantly at the envelope and then he looked at Ibraheem. Tears rolled down from Ibraheem’s eyes. Adam talked to his mother, and said, “Mom, now I’ll eat two eggs, bread with butter and marmalade, porridge, milk, and fruits daily”
We returned to the office with heavy heart. Thereafter, we forgot all about Adam till I saw his old ailing mother begging at Regal bus stop. Next day, I talked to Ibraheem about what I had seen at Regal bus stop. He took some time to digest it. We decided to see Adam and his mother forthwith. Without seeking leave from the Office Superintendent, we headed for Bhimpura. I knocked at the half-open door of Adam’s abode. A boy emerged.
On our query he plainly said, “Adam passed away a few months ago. His mother begs at the Regal Bus stop. We are the new tenants.” Ibraheem sank to his knees, and hid face with his hands. To no one I said, “You were not supposed to die Adam.”
