A man with an iron box

Can anybody iron clothes with this much joy; I wondered! I was gazing at a man who wore a crisp reddish maroon shirt, golden chain watch and an extremely neatly pressed dhoti. With his broad but lean shoulders, a chiselled face, cottony white rolled up moustache and cottony white hair he seemed to iron each shirt as if he was creating the best piece of his art.

I was at the vendor’s office in Sulthan Bathery few weeks back for an official paper work that had to be done. While I was sitting on a chair placed just outside the office for customers to enjoy the bustling traffic and neat roads, I could not help but notice this man maybe in his 60’s who enjoyed his work of ironing clothes like he was doing the best job in the world. Each fold he placed on the shirt to be ironed was meticulous and loaded with joy. After the last fold on the shirt keeping it with the collar facing upward he used something like a pom-pom ball to rub the shirt with firm gentle strokes. Though I am not sure why he did that, it seemed to me like an artist giving his finishing strokes to a painting. I do not know for how long I stared at this person doing his work. As I got up to leave, I wanted to take one last look at the shirt he had just finished ironing. At this point he raised his head lightly and gave me an even bigger smile. In that moment both he and I knew that he had conveyed to me what a joy it was for him to iron shirts. It was not necessary for us to know each other, but just that any work is great when it is done with utmost joy.

Later in the day, I remembered a woman who I had met in Chennai a couple of years back while in college. She ran a mess for college students. The students could either eat at her place or have parcels taken from there. Her husband was somewhere in the gulf and children were college going. She had a lot of free time and so decided to engage herself in what she loved. Her mess fee was very nominal but the food grand. Crab mango curry, ഇറച്ചിപ്പുട്ട് (stuffed steamed rice ) and prawns coconut curry were some of her famous delicacies. A lot of students came to her home for the food. She didn’t expand to make it a commercial enterprise. When the students came home to have food, she served them and stood at a distance watching them have her food. She simply loved to cook and see students have them deliciously giving them the feel of a home away from home. That look of content on her face was a jackpot in itself.

I do not know the name of the man who was ironing shirts and I do not remember the name of the aunty at the mess. But their smiles of joy and content in the work they do is a photographic memory I will always cherish.

My two daughters who were very bubbly and cheerful the past month, are beginning to show signs of restlessness and stress since the past few days. the situation may not be different in many houses. The reason is both of them are awaiting their CBSE board results, which is due over the coming days. A word of bail they have issued is please tell anyone who asks, that they will not be telling their marks. What I wish they believed in their heart is that marks speak nothing if they couldn’t enjoy their learning process. Most of us associate marks with success in the student life. Much has not changed still. In the professional life, we associate success with the positions we occupy or the salaries that we draw. The beauty we sometimes miss to see is the joy associated with work. The fruit of any work delivered with utmost joy and meticulous perfection is an art in itself and the epitome of success. From offices in the high rise buildings to the most humble farmer on the ground, can our work reflect that joy. If it does, then every story is one of success!