The good samaritan

by A.F. Dawood

Jineris was a retired peon from government service. Nine months after his retirement he hasn’t got his pension. So he faced insurmountable problems in his daily life as he found it difficult to make both ends meet.

To tide over the difficult situation his wife earned a pittance by working in the neighbourhood houses; his daughter attended the village school while his son worked in a kiosk in the village to supplement the family income. “Why is it that your pension is not paid still?” his wife questioned him.

“Aney! I don’t know. These public servants are like that.”

“Somasiri like you worked in the public service, but he gets his pension,” Jineris remained silent.

Somasiri was a peon in the Education Department. After retirement, he got his pension in three months.

“You meet Somasiri and find out how he got his pension so quickly. It’s good to find out, no?” Jineris only shook his head but did not reply.

“How to live like this everyday? My small amount of money is not enough without your pension.”

Jineris decided to meet Somasiri. On the following day, clad in a sarong and vest with a towel across his shoulder and a chew of betel in his mouth, he walked along the village footpath to Somasiri’s house which was about two kilometres from his hut.

After a lapse of an hour when he approached Somasiri’s house, he saw him working in the field adjoining his dilapidated house made of ‘kabook’ walls with a thatched roof. His upper torso and face drenched with perspiration, he was busy digging the earth. “Machan Somey, I came to talk to you on a very important matter.” Jineris started the conversation.

Somasiri unfolded his folded sarong, bent down and wiped his face with his sarong. After that he looked at Jineris.

“What’s that important talk you have?” “Machan Somey, you’re getting your pension?”

This question was a puzzle to him. Then he directed his glance at Jineris. “Yes, I get my pension. Why are you asking that?” “See will you, Machan, even after nine months I’ve not got my pension.”

“Really surprising.”

“What is your pension paper number?” Jineris did not know head or tail about this. “Pension paper number? What’s that? I don’t know of a pension paper”, Jineris replied, narrowing his eyes and creasing his brow.

“Why fellow, you have not sent your application for pension?”

“Machan Somey, do I have to send my application to get my pension?” Jineris questioned greatly surprised.

“Otherwise how can you get a pension? You’re a fine fellow!” he laughed at Jineris’ folly.

“Machan Somey, these fellows should know that I am entitled to a pension because I am not working. So they can send the pension to my house.”

Jineris rattled on foolishly, provoking Somasiri to laughter. Thereafter he explained to Jineris the government regulation and advised him to send his pension application. The following day he went to the Pensions Department in Colombo. As he stayed in a very remote village, he decided to stay two or three days in Colombo and finish his pension work.

“Aslin, I’ll be back only after finishing my pension work which will take two or three days,” he told his wife. “To stay in Colombo?” Aslin questioned, “Where are you going to stay in Colombo?”

“Aslin, I’m a man. I’ll somehow find a place to sleep during the night.”

Jineris reached Colombo after four hours. At 11.30 in the morning he reached the Pensions Department. He thought that once he submitted his pension papers all his problems would be over. Jineris went to a woman deeply buried in a magazine.

“Miss, I want to submit my pension papers”.

“Go to the fifth floor,” the woman, employee told him without raising her head.

“What Miss?”

“You go up,” she said again.

It was 12.30 p.m. when he reached the fifth floor. When he submitted his papers to an official in the left wing of the Department, he was advised to submit them at the right wing. He went there and found that half the number of workers were not in their seats; Jineris stood there staring at the almost vacant hall.

“Why? What do you want?” a male worker asked.

“To submit my pension papers.”

“Now it’s lunchtime, come later,” Jineris sat on one of the benches in the corridor and partook his lunch.

He joined a queue of 11 or 12 people all of whom had some kind of documents in their hands. At last when his turn came, he submitted his papers to an official who told that he needs the copies of service certificates and the Grama Sevaka certificate. “Sir, shall I go and bring them now?”

“No time now; go home, prepare all the forms and come tomorrow.” Jineris knew a work of this nature could not be finished in a day. So he had brought with him sufficient money that would last him for a few days in Colombo. That night Jineris decided to lodge himself in the front corridor of the Fort Railway Station. Having taken his lunch in a restaurant opposite the railway station, he went to the railway station.

It was 9.30pm and by that time the hum of human voice, the revving of engines of vehicles and the tooting of horns were absent. He stayed a few minutes at the entrance and then went in where he saw one or two lying on the floor.

Taking out a cloth from his bag, he spread it on the floor and lay there; he was sleepless; he lay there, thinking of tomorrow’s work. A few minutes later an old man came towards him; he carried a small bag; sitting close to Jineris, he smiled with him and took out his food parcel from his bag and began to eat. “You had your dinner?” The old man asked Jineris.

“If not, we can share this rice.”

“Thank you, I had my dinner; you have come to Colombo to get some work done, I suppose”, Jineris questioned the man. “Yes, Yes, my work is still not over, I’ll have to stay in Colombo tomorrow. I too, was not able to give my pension papers today; that’s why I am staying here.”

The man said: Ah! Pension application? That’s a difficult job.”

Jineris muttered. “The big man tells me to come tomorrow.”

“The big man Piyasiri, no, that fellow is a sucker.”

“What do you mean? I do not understand, Jineris replied.

“You’ll have to give ‘something’ to the big man.”

“No, no Lokka tells me to bring Grama Sevaka and workplace certificates.”

“That’s what Lokka tells? But you give your application with ‘something’, then your pension work will be done fast.”

“I’m lucky I have brought extra money. Isn’t Rs. 1,000 enough for Lokka?” Jineris questioned. “Don’t give too much; Rs. 500 will be enough”.

Jineris thanked the man for his suggestion and said: “I want to take photocopies of my certificates.”

“Ah! that can be done tomorrow; I know a place close by.”

Jineris thanked his stars for having met a good Samaritan. Indulging in this conversation, they both fell asleep.

On the following day, Jineris woke up early. He looked around. His newly found friend was missing. He has spirited away with Jineris’ bag.

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