THE REAL MANTRA

The real mantra

J L Gupta

It was 1965, I was just mar­ried and had gone to Jaipur to pick up my wife. That day while I waited for my Wife in her house, suddenly my mother-in-law entered the room and an­nounced, "Today in the evening, we shall go to Mrs. Mittal's place." Curiously, I asked, "Who is she?"

"A friend" came the reply. That was enough. She expect­ed no more questions. So, reluctantly though, I tagged along.

The hostess turned out to be a fine lady. It was her dignified and elegant conduct, which impressed us the most. Her steps were confident and quick. She was in the kitchen to turn off the oven, in the sitting room to have a little chat, in the bed­room to pamper the little daughter and at the door to receive the guests. She seemed to be all over the place, looking after everyone. A perfect picture of a proficient person.

The house was compact but functional and very well kept. Everything was in place. There was not even a speck of dust. The floors had a shine. The fur­niture had a touch of the ori­ental. The upholstery, the curtains and the carpets combined well. The crystal added to the decor.

The hostess must have noticed the appreciative look on every face. Yet out of modesty,' she said, "Actually Raj and I had done this upholstery about six years back, it really needs to be redone." She could not have missed the raised eyebrows. Tea was served and by any standard it was a lavish affair. The china, the silver, the snacks and the brew, all were exquisite. It was a feast for the eyes and the palate.

Everything had been pre­pared well and appropriately laid out by the hostess herself. As we started talking, I got to know that she was a fashion designer. She had developed this interest during her visit to Germany. Raj, her husband, was a civil servant. He had gone there for training where she accompanied him.

While her husband was out to work, she used to take lessons in designing, cutting and stitching. Ultimately. Raj resigned from the civil service to join a private company.

In a few years, they had made their pile. They came back to India. He became a senior executive and she set up a mini-school in the house itself. Every morning, she would teach a class of 15 how to stitch clothes. By the end of the week, she would have nearly a hundred dresses ready. These were modern but mod­erately priced.

After a month of marketing, all the best stores in town would be eagerly waiting to pick them up. She made a handsome sum every week. Work was her daily routine. It was an infinite source of pleasure to her. She enjoyed it heartily. In fact, hard work had by then become a habit and it kept her fit.

But where did the inspiration come from? She told us the story, "During our stay in Germany we went to Berlin and checked into a five-star hotel. The owner of that hotel had lost everything during the war. He used to get only one loaf of bread a week. Still, he worked hard and made a fortune. He now owned a chain of hotels.

"One day, Raj and I saw that a shoe-shine boy was using the receptionist's phone. On enquiry, we learnt that he was the owner's son! He had made a little money and wanted his mother's permission to go to the theatre. No wonder, Germany had rebuilt itself from a scratch so fast. We found that labour and honest hard work was the real mantra which made the difference. And our experience has proved it."

How right! The lady was a fine example of a human dynamo. She needed no help at home or at work. Her mantra can help every one of us. Hopefully, we will learn it before it is too late.