The unseasonal rains in February, coupled with gusty winds, made my umbrella on the golf trolley swivel both aspect so vigorously that the ensemble which held it tight gave means. I went to the Proshop of the golf membership and supervisor advised I go away the trolley with him in order that it may very well be inspected by their visiting handy-man. A few days later, once I went once more to investigate if the ensemble had been fastened, the supervisor put up an upset expression.

As the mercury melted a tad mercilessly within the first week of April, I used to be once more reminded of the necessity to have the umbrella fastened, to save lots of me from the scorching warmth, particularly after enjoying six holes within the morning. Since our Panchkula Golf Club is closed on Tuesday, I together with Karan went to the motor market, carrying the trolley within the boot.

There had been numerous mechanics, sporting apologies of dungarees, of their tattered-clothes-turned-all-black with oil, grease, carbon and soot. One of them examined the clamp and advised a {hardware} store the place we’d discover every kind of screws. When that too didn’t yield a optimistic consequence, the attendant advised I strategy a mechanic sitting outdoors their store. He would, I used to be informed, positively give you some ‘jugaad’.

He was a good complexioned man in his early forties who appeared like Raj Kapoor. Initially, he too dismissed us, however later requested if he may see the factor on which the umbrella was to be mounted. I requested Karan to convey the trolley from the automobile. Having seen it, the mechanic requested if it was a perambulator and I may see the spark in his eyes when he stated so: “Sir, I too have a daughter aged two years, for whom I wish to purchase a pram with an umbrella! ” He began working on fixing the umbrella. Obviously, he mistook the trolley for a pram.

He rummaged through his toolkit and took out a screw that was much longer than the one needed. From an iron-die that he had, he manually made some groves on it and ensured it tightened firm. All through the work, he indulgently kept stroking it with his hammer. The smile he had on his sweating face made me feel his love for his daughter, who he definitely had mind, since only after the mention of a pram had he become ready to find a solution to my problem.

The final tightening of the screw went well. I could see sweat dripping from his forehead down to his chin, which he gently rubbed with his shirt. He wouldn’t be bothered if he smeared his face again with the greasy deposit of his shirt. Having finished, he cleaned everything on the trolley with the duster in his hands and smiled.

I asked him his remuneration. He quoted fifty bucks. I would have paid him even 500 for getting the umbrella fixed. I handed over a 100 note and asked him to keep it. He politely returned 50 to me saying, “Now, I feel your little one will take pleasure in a pram trip below the cool shade.” Under his shabby garments, the workman had a coronary heart of gold that appeared to beat for his child lady. rajbirdeswal@hotmail.com

The Panchkula-based writer is a retired IPS officer and an advocate