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A couple of years ago I had been invited to attend the board meeting of a big social organisation. One of the decisions that the board was about to make was about building a public toilet for slum dwellers, and the builder who had agreed to build the toilet had also been invited.

I asked the members where they intended putting up this toilet and was astounded to find where the proposed site was. "But there is already a toilet over there," I told the members. "Yes but ours will be even better," said the chairman. "We intend using marble on the exterior and having a sloped Spanish tile roof so that everyone will notice it." "Why would anyone want to notice a toilet?" I ventured to ask. "It will have the name of our club etched boldly on the marble," said the chairman. "And I will be putting the name of my firm also," said the builder. "Please see that it is beneath the name of our club," said the chairman seriously.

"But why don't you build the toilet elsewhere?" I asked, "Where there are no toilets at all." "Where elsewhere?" asked the chairman, humouring me by opening a map of the city. "Here," I said eagerly, "this is a huge slum and there is a need for bathrooms urgently." "But it is not next to the highway," said the builder. "So what?" I asked innocently. "Who will see my name?" "Or ours?" asked the chairman.

I passed by that toilet yesterday. It had become dilapidated and run down. The marble plaque which once had the builder's name written had fallen down. The name of the club could hardly be seen and the place was overgrown with weeds. The few people who needed to use a toilet used the one next door.

Looking at the toilet and the fallen name boards reminded me of a play I had written years ago. A rich man dies and reaches the Pearly Gates. The angel at the gate asks him who he is as he goes through the list of people who had permission to enter. "My name," said the rich man disdainfully, "is written outside the wards of a dozen hospitals where I donated money and on the gates of scores of schools whose buildings I put up."

"Well maybe," said the angel. "But it isn't written over here." "Go down and check what I have done," said the rich man a little irritably. "For what you have done Sir, you have already been rewarded.

"For by etching your name on those hospitals and schools you have received the praises, the appreciation and the acknowledgements of men. Your thanks has been given to you down below, through your own publicity. This book is filled with the names of people whose names are not etched anywhere down below, but who worked unnoticed and unknown. Your name Sir is not here."

I looked at that toilet again. The marble plaque which once had the builder's name had fallen down. The name of the club could hardly be seen and the place was overgrown with weeds. Even their earthly recognition had come to an end.

I wondered where the builder and chairman were right now...!

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