He took me to his room over the Jumna Sweet Shop and told me I could sleep on the
balcony. But the meal I cooked that night must have been terrible because Anil gave it to a stray
dog and told me to be off. But I just hung around, smiling in my most appealing way, and he
couldn’t help laughing.
Later, he patted me on the head and said never mind, he’d teach me to cook. He also
taught me to write my name and said he would soon teach me to write whole sentences and to
add numbers. I was grateful. I knew that once I could write like an educated man there would be
no limit to what I could achieve.
It was quite pleasant working for Anil. I made the tea in the morning and then would take
my time buying the day’s supplies, usually making a profit of about a rupee a day. I think he
knew I made a little money this way but he did not seem to mind.
Anil made money by fits and starts. He would borrow one week, lend the next. He kept
worrying about his next cheque, but as soon as it arrived he would go out and celebrate. It
seems he wrote for magazines - a queer way to make a living!
One evening he came home with a small bundle of notes, saying he had just sold a book
to a publisher. At night, I saw him tuck the money under the mattress.
I had been working for Anil for almost a month and, apart from cheating on the shopping,
had not done anything in my line of work. I had every opportunity for doing so. Anil had given me
a key to the door,and I could come and go as I pleased. He was the most trusting person I had
ever met.
And that is why it was so difficult to rob him. It’s easy to rob a greedy man, because he
can afford to be robbed; but it’s difficult to rob a careless man - sometimes he doesn’t even
notice he’s been robbed and that takes all the pleasure out of the work.
Well, it’s time I did some real work, I told myself; I’m out of practice. And if I don’t take the
money, he’ll only waste it on his friends. After all, he doesn’t even pay me.
