Age, about seventy years; height, about five ft, four inches; complexion, wheaten brown; face thin, round and wrinkled, but always wearing a complacent smile; nose with a slight curve; eyes, small and reflective like two spouts of a time-worn weather-beaten conduit; every mark on the forehead is like an eye-witness to many vicissitudes of life-journey;…yes, Readers…this is the old Mairaaj as ancient as the college itself…the loyalty-incarnate, the workaholic not-god of the historical institution. There is an air of industry and fidelity about him.
Actually he is a gate-keeper, however as a factotum, he enjoys a colossal amount of reliance to such an extent that he can do anything that is expected from him. Now he has got retired from his services, and is receiving his pension from the government, but he has permeated so much in the atmosphere that still you won’t find him absent, like a bird either addicted to his cage or lost the will to fly away, whatever!. His heart is so much in his job that he does not know the limit of his work, which is of no match to the remuneration he receives for it.
You can call him a No-problem-man…just share what teases you and go to sleep. From the first day of his job till the present day, he has been devoted to such a degree that none can even think about celebrating any occasion and event of the college without properly acknowledging his services. He is very much like an old tree casting thick cool shadows to comfort others while suffering all the cruel and unpredictable mood-swings of all weathers threatening its own existence. Every wrinkle is the scar left by time on the once plain face like a blank page. Although we are not incapable of gratitude, but we are unable to pay our thanks for what he has done, and is still doing!