In the beginning it is different — he views you with a certain amount of apprehension — like you are an intruder, ready to usurp his place. Gradually, he sees that the equation has not changed, he is still high priority and you are no threat to him. Over the years he thaws, and even though his loyalty is heavily loaded in favour of the officer, he has a large enough heart to make room for the wife and children.I am talking about that most formidable character of the Indian army, the “Jeeves” called “orderly” in our days, now called “sahayak”.I answered the front door bell one winter evening a few years ago. “Sir (for some reason even the wife was addressed so). You haven’t recognised me?” His voice rang out loud and clear. How could I not recognise that voice? It had been with us for nine long years. “Sajjan Singh!” There he was — tall and ramrod straight, wearing a colourful Rajasthani turban, a gold earring adorning one car.I asked what brought him to us after almost ten years. “It’s Bitiya’s wedding. You remember her?” Of course I remembered his Bitiya. Sajjan Singh had been married for four years and there was no issue. We asked him to fetch his wife from the village so that we could have her treated. After extensive medical treatment and many months later, there was good news. Since they lived on the premises, he requested we take his “Mrs” to the hospital when her labour pains started. They felt reassured when we drove to the hospital — after all, it was the brigade commander himself at the wheel.He brought the good news early next morning. It was a girl. I looked for signs of disappointment. There were none! Smilingly he announced: “Lakshmi has come into the house.” We went to see them in the hospital the same evening carrying with us some nourishing fruit for the mother and the customary silver gifts for the baby. The father lost no time in announcing the arrival of the little girl by distributing sweets.We brought mother and daughter home from the hospital after a week. There was a celebration when the baby was 40 days old. We shared a typical Rajasthani dinner with them, sitting on the floor eating from a thali. The mother handed me a packet as we were leaving. It was a beautiful hand-knitted cushion cover she had made for me.And now, Sajjan Singh sat reminiscing about that time. Suddenly he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have that cushion cover, would you?” It was a gift I had treasured. I brought it out and showed it to him. He couldn’t believe it, tears came to his eyes as he got up to leave, saying, “Please come to the wedding.”
