Motabhai

When outsiders arrive promising to bring prosperity to the village for a guaranteed return on their investment, a local shopkeeper settles all accounts. 

Ranchod Parekh, proprietor, Pavagadh Antiques and Handicrafts, Bodeli-Halol road, near Halol gate, only half km from world famous UNESCO World Heritage Shaher ki Masjid, behind Bhadra Gate petrol pump, Champaner, smiled. Business was good. Everyone trusted him. They called him Motabhai. Even the ASI officers said only he did not sell items picked up from the archeological park.

Motabhai kept a big red accounts ledger, which he had got from Rathod Stationery Stores in Amdavad proper. He wrote down every item bought or sold, every loan, every debt. When an item was brought in, it was noted in his ledger; when an advance was given, it was noted in his ledger; when payment was made, it was noted in his ledger. Every paisa owed by anyone or to anyone was noted in his ledger.

Twenty-five rupees in Dhaval’s account for hair cutting, fifty rupees in Chagan’s account for potatoes to Balwant, seventy-five rupees in Maltiben’s account for washing Khanbhai's razai, one thousand five hundred rupees for carvings in Asimbhai’s account, one hundred fifty rupees for clothes stitching in Mamtabai’s account. Every debit had a credit, every debt to be settled and all balances zero by the satam-atham mela.

One morning a tourist couple came to Champaner in Kanti’s taxi. Vithhal, Kanti’s father, announced proudly that they had come specially to bring prosperity to the village, emancipation for the women, education for the children, and health care for all. They were going to have a big meeting to tell everyone about a micro-finance scheme from a very big foreign NGO. A shiny book with color photos and a QR code said in English this highly-leveraged product guaranteed a 700% return on investment for the financial backers while, at the same time, opening up new market opportunities for the impoverished masses it served. They also wanted to see the world famous UNESCO World Heritage archeological park.

Vithal gave the tourists 20 percent discount on taxi charge so everyone could hear about their very generous scheme. Then he gave Kanti double role of driver and guide just like Dev Anand. Kanti was to take them on the Masjid circle tour from Shaher ki Masjid to Ek Minar ki Masjid to Nagina Masjid to Kamani Masjid to Jama Masjid to Kevda Masjid. But after five minutes only at Bhadra Gate, the gentleman wanted connectivity to read the WhatsApp from Abdul who had taken two thousand rupees to set up a meeting for all the people.

“Where can I get Wi-Fi connection?” he asked Kanti who was waiting with the taxi at Chagan’s stall, waving off flies from the methi gotas.

“Motabhai's Antiques and Handicrafts shop is just behind the petrol pump that side,” Kanti replied, his mouth still full of a delicious gota. The Innova sped off leaving Chagan to swat flies.

“What is your Wi-Fi code?” the gentleman asked Motabhai.

“It is for customers only,” Motabhai replied.

“How much is that?” asked the lady.

Motabhai froze as the lady pointed to a carved stone lying on the side. Abdul swore he made it, but Motabhai was sure it came from a bare patch he saw in the grass near the fallen stones of Ek Minar ki Masjid only a few days before. Abdul owed everyone money so Motabhai had kept the stone in the shop.

“It is a very special piece. Genuine antique.” Motabhai smiled softly, “I can give it to you for only thirty-five thousand rupees with discount.”

“Here is ten thousand deposit. We’ll pay the rest when we pick it up on our way back,” said the gentleman. “What is your Wi-Fi code?”

After five minutes they left to continue their archeological park tour. Motabhai cursed the day he had agreed to keep the carved stone at the risk of his good name. The ten thousand rupee notes carefully nestled in his ledger stared back at him, mocking him.

“I don’t want that,” the lady announced later that evening, after their tour.

“No problem,” said a relieved Motabhai, handing back the ten thousand rupees deposit to the gentleman who was checking his WhatsApp again. He had not heard from Abdul; no one had come for the public meeting.

As soon as their air-conditioned Toyota Innova luxury taxi sped away to Amdavad in a cloud of smoke and dust, Motabhai picked up the carved stone, closed his shop, and started walking. A great weight lifted off his shoulders as he placed it gently next to a small flower growing in the bare patch in the grass near the fallen stones of Ek Minar ki Masjid. 

Wind swirled around him whispering blessings. Sunlight made the tip of the minar glow like the flame of a giant candle. 

“Are they gone?” Abdul whispered, rising up from behind a pile of stones.

Motabhai nearly fell over. “What are you doing here?”

“They gave me two thousand rupees to bring everyone to hear their loan scheme,” Abdul replied. “Nobody wanted to come after Ranjit read their booklet where it says the loan charges are three percent interest every month.”

A smile lit up Motabhai’s face. “Give me the money,” he said and snatched the four crisp five hundred rupee notes from Abdul’s reluctant hands. “Come in the morning and settle accounts.”

That night Abdul’s account got credited two thousand rupees.

Magan’s account (Rs. 50) for the vegetables got cleared, Chandani got credited (Rs. 75) for cleaning and kachra, Khanbhai got paid (Rs. 150) for the oil and cycle repair, Chunnilal got his money (Rs. 125) for repairing four chairs, Mamtabai got credited (Rs. 25) for washing and cleaning, and Balwant got credited (Rs. 75) for the wheat.

Magan paid off Gopal, Kishore, Asim, and Manik.

Gopal, Kishore, Asim, and Manik paid off Chandani, Khanbhai, and Mamtabai. Khanbhai paid off Motabhai and Madhav. Chandani paid off Gaurav and Dhaval. Gaurav paid off Mayank. Madhav paid off Magan and Sanjay. Abdul paid off Motabhai and…

Next morning four crisp five hundred rupee notes nestled in the big red accounts ledger.  Every debit had a credit. All balances were zero.