The moment the clink of tiny bells was heard in the colony, people of all age groups would come out and surround the push cart of Hiralal, the sugarcane-juice vendor.
Sugarcane juice has never been regarded as a special drink. In fact, for many, its rating has been poor vis-a-vis juices of apple, carrot, pomegranate or citrus fruits. Some have a disdain for sugarcane itself which, they say, could not be thoroughly cleaned before being pushed into the crusher.
The diehard health conscious people consider it a bane, particularly in times when diabetes is on the rise the world over. But for others it is an ‘instant energy drink' and is, therefore, a boon. Nevertheless, Hiralal had won over many a heart for other reasons — his steadfastness for maintaining quality, in his case purity of sugarcane juice, hygiene, cleanliness and strict adherence to trade practices.
Before setting out on his daily round, he would wash his machine with soap and hot water to sterilise it as far as possible, take a thorough bath himself and ensure that his two assistants did the same.
He would burn thick incense sticks on the two sides of his cart to ward off flies and bees. Every tumbler was washed in potassium permanganate solution before being filled up. But the most noteworthy thing that made him stand out was that while serving the juice he never touched a currency note or coin.
"Have you ever realised that a note or coin passes through innumerable hands and is the most potent carrier of all kinds of infection?" he would tell inquirers much to their amazement.
Even though he did not have proper schooling to learn about hygiene, he knew more than the educated on the subject. He was always impeccably attired in khadi.
For some of Hiralal's young customers, more than the taste of lemon-and-spiced juice was the romanticism associated with the all-wood expeller. Crafted out of wood, it held a special charm for them because of the creaking sound it made when two men rotated the X-shaped wheel to crush sugarcane placed in between two drum-shaped cylinders.
The juice poured into a vessel passing through broken ice. The string of tiny bells was tied to the wheel in a manner that they made a rhythmic sound during movement. The all-wood expeller looked out of place in this age of machines but it had its own charm and admirers.
Nevertheless, some people were convinced that with three men deployed on the small and "outdated" expeller, the moderately priced juice and a principled Hiralal following fair practices, his venture could not be cost-effective. And it proved true.
One day, Hiralal said goodbye to his wooden expeller and one of his two assistants. He mounted a mechanised extractor made of iron on his wooden cart where the wooden one existed till the other day. It had black grease on the moving parts, something he had hated all his life.
An obdurate Hiralal hawked with only one aide holding on to his vow not to compromise with quality and scruples. He was convinced that even in today's highly competitive world with little regard for fair deals and cheating galore he would survive.
He did his best and struggled hard to stay afloat. But he could not withstand the harsh realities. One day, Hiralal, who used to employ two helpers, was found working as a helper, ironically at a fruit juice shop! He was working on a greasy machine! Also, he was mixing plain sherbat (flavoured sweet drink) with the juices of costly fruits like apple, pomegranate, grapes and the like under instructions! After all, he and his family had to survive.
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
