Skip to main content

The richest man in Babylon

Fixion - a Diwali story

Bad luck did not follow H. It was his shadow.
And, it was the shadow that was moved enough to tell me his story.  

A promise was made in 2014, of good days. People were tired, so they voted. Everyone had had just about enough of open corruption, selective secularism and a Life that just would not get better, or maybe it was getting better too slowly. So they went and made their choice. Not for, but against.

Voting had made no sense to H. He did not want to choose one goon over another. So, he settled for hoping that things would actually get better, if not for the country, then just for him. And who, having lived in that country, would begrudge him that hope? Luckily for H, an uncle had recently croaked and left him a chunk of money. Not wanting to follow his friends and buy things he couldn't really afford, H considered investing it. And, the first thing to catch his eye was the 'Clean the Nation' campaign whose fervor was sweeping through the country, if nothing else. Thinking laterally, H backed companies that manufactured brooms, detergents, bins and other paraphernalia.

Three years later, his inheritance was the only thing cleaned out.

H seethed with the anger of the helpless. Unlike in the movies he no longer watched, vengeance was not an option. Truth be told, it never was. H was a harmless soul, like a great many others who made up the numbers in the country. Alone, he could do nothing. In a crowd, people like him could beat up any luckless individual who crossed their path. A friend told him the government was quietly recruiting for an animal rescue program. H was ready to sign up all the way until he understood that only one kind of animal was to be saved. And, when they told him just how the saving would happen... well, he did not have the stomach for murder.

One night in early October, when the hunger was more painful than any bruise to his ego, H robbed a man. He was jubilant to discover that the bag he'd snatched contained 30,000 rupees. After eating his first proper meal in weeks, he gave thought to the money. Leery about risking it on fly-by-night operations, he went the other way and bet it all on a sure thing - firecrackers for Diwali. A week later, H had just completed moving all the boxes into a shed he'd rented out and was thinking about his trip to the capital to sell them when the news came out. After that, there was only one thing left to do. Later, when the cops and fire brigade showed up, H was nowhere to be found.

For years afterwards, the villagers of Kundli would reminisce about two strange things that had occurred just before Diwali in 2017. The spectacular fireworks show and the sudden spoiling of the water in the village well. But, no one knew or cared if H's kundli had gone up in flames that night. Or, whether the flame of his life doused itself. And, the shadow would not say.

Song for the moment: Fortune Teller - Maroon 5

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Longfellow Serenade

Dear reader, A conversation in a buzzing bar over a mug of beer got me thinking on today's theme; the writing of a letter. As with many of the shared contemplations I've had, we spoke about it for the sake of the flowing idea, the peculiarly gentle glee in being able to use what have commonly been referred to as 'big words' in actual conversation without having the threat of perplexity hanging in the air. Perhaps you have & enjoy these moments yourself. Mayhaps, you have debated the same theme ? Nonetheless, I often ponder upon the march of time & technology that has left me regarding life with some ambiguity. I appreciate technology & how it has made living easier on many levels. I do not hanker for the b/w television nor for a computer with 16 MB RAM & the large floppy disk. I thank the heavens for air-conditioning & the photocopier. I use the internet a lot. The Dark Ages or in India's case, the years up to the 1990's, had their moment in ...

Love and Happiness

The year was 1950. Having missed a prestigious Government position in Delhi by the proverbial hair's breadth, a 24 year old youth from the south of India began to look for work elsewhere. In this land, destinies were & are made in Bombay. Fate decreed that this boy, called K, had been gallivanting around the backwaters long enough and directed him to the city caressed by the Arabian Sea. Once he'd begun to work, his family wanted to check off the next thing on the list - a bride. K bluntly told his father that he was not interested in an arranged marriage, practically scandalizing everyone in the vicinity and a few ancestors for good measure. Predictably enough, his wishes were ignored and the hunt for a suitable girl began in earnest, culminating in a small town in Tamil Nadu. K was tersely informed about his upcoming nuptials and although furious, he acquiesced. Which should come as no surprise, really, as young men and women do so even today. The bride-to-be was 20i...

Many the miles

Some time ago, I decided to cut down on the whining that seems to be a major theme on this blog. After having written a couple of short story posts and one interesting challenge, I found that more commentary on life, its machinations and assorted tomfoolery just did not interest me. For the moment, at least. That also thankfully means that I can't talk about the Indian cricket team's test saga. Anyway, in recent weeks, a new trend has taken root in that fragment of the 'gang' that lives in Pune. Instead of meeting up and hitting the tipple every now and then, we meet and they discuss trekking to various forts in and around Pune. Notice how I'm not in these councils-of-war. Although I've played sports in school and college, I've never been a fan of physical toil. All these talks conjure up are images of waking up at some ungodly hour before sunrise, scooting to some random hill / fort and huffing, puffing, slipping & scrabbling around in near darkness w...