IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 110- MISCHIEF REWARDED Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“Look, Khazana Babu is being punished,” said a soldier, pointing towards Sepoy (Clerk) Khazan Singh crawling near the unit’s Gurudwara. The others laughed as it was odd to see a clerk undergo physical punishment.

Khazan Singh knew they were mocking him, but instead of anger, he smiled. He wasn’t repentant for what he had done. The punishment — seven days of rigorous imprisonment — felt light compared to what he could have faced. After all, he had taken his revenge and gotten away with it. The victim hadn’t exposed the theft, and the Head Clerk had promised to ensure the punishment wouldn’t appear in his service record. As he crawled, Khazan drifted into his thoughts, silently thanking God for always blessing him.

Khazan Singh was the eldest son of an army man from the rugged broken lands of Tanda, in Gujarat District (now in Pakistan). His father, Ganga Singh, had wanted him to become a granthi (scripture reader) and got him admitted to the Gurudwara. His younger, more handsome brother was sent to the village school. Two years later, Khazan had learned everything there was to know at the Gurudwara, while his brother still struggled in the same class. Ganga Singh reconsidered and sent Khazan to school as well. His better score and knowledge of English got him a berth as Clerk in the Army.

He often recalled a childhood memory — a village mela (fair) where they had to spend the night outdoors. Feeling uneasy, Khazan prayed for a better place to sleep. Within half an hour, a loudspeaker announced the need for someone to recite scriptures at an Akhand Path. A pathi singh had overeaten and fallen ill. Khazan volunteered and was rewarded with a bed and a sevadar to take care of his meals and bath. That night, he felt God had truly listened.

“Thik se karo!” yelled the Havildar overseeing his punishment.
Khazan began moving more vigorously in that hot sand of Basra. Their unit had landed up in the desert as part of the British Indian army in World War II. But a man from a hardy background, such ragda (physical punishment) was no big deal.

In the desert, water was scarce and rationed. Yet, with his resourcefulness, he found ways to manage. Half past one at night, a water truck would come by for the cook houses. Using two empty ghee tins, he posed as a cook and got them filled with water — half for bathing and ablutions, and the rest stored under his makeshift cot to trade for snacks and small luxuries.

One day, a Subedar discovered his stash. Soon, the Subedar began stealing Khazan’s water — and even used his soap for full-body baths. Khazan realized this but said nothing. Instead, he plotted quietly. On a Sunday, he replaced his usual soap with a cake of hair-removal soap.

That morning, the Subedar again sneaked in when Khazan moved to office, took the water, and began bathing. He used the soap generously. Within minutes, all the hair on his body — including his eyebrows and moustache — began to fall off. When he saw his reflection, he looked like a clean, hairless potato.

Word spread quickly. The Subedar, humiliated, accused Khazan Singh of switching his soap, but he couldn’t admit that he had been stealing water. Khazan, on the advice of the Head Clerk, pleaded guilty to the lesser charge. Theft of water could have meant a severe punishment.

The Commanding Officer, after consulting the Head Clerk, sentenced Khazan to seven days of rigorous imprisonment. The incident became the talk of the unit. To avoid further embarrassment, the CO decided to transfer him out. Two weeks later, Khazan was sent for a course in wood technology — despite not meeting the qualifications.

He completed the course successfully and was transferred to the Military Engineering Services (MES), where he managed furniture and barrack inventories. Years later, Khazan Singh retired honourably as a Senior Barrack Store Officer — wiser, wealthier in stories, and still smiling at fate’s peculiar ways.