Retribution: Part 1

VROOOOOOOOOMMM! SCREEEEECH!

The first step I take outside jail is near-fatal. Some crazy chap wanting to get home before someone got him back in the slammer. As a parting gift, I also got to hear some select expletives.

That’s what I experienced after 14 years of nerve-jangling jail time. Near-death. And profanity.

Maybe, just maybe, I deserved it. After all, I had run down a little kid in an open park. Yep, I was drunk, well and truly. 14 years it’s been, and I remember the incident as clear as daylight.

Or do I? No… I don’t remember the kid’s face all that well… but I was driving, for sure…

Meanwhile, in another part of the city...

“He’s out of jail, boss.”

“Who?”

“Reverend John II… of course you know who I’m talking about! Sam, that’s who!”

“He’s nobody. Why are you fretting? He has NO idea why he went to jail. Thinks he knocked over some pretty kid. He’ll probably run into you and give you a big hug.”

“Obviously, you haven’t read The Count of Monte Cristo?”

“That Dumas guy’s book? Yeah, I’ve read it. But there’s a slight difference—the count actually KNEW what to look for and whom to target. Sam has NO idea. Get a life, Rocky.”

“I don’t know boss… it’s giving me a bad feeling…”

“Chill man… I’ve got tickets to the game tonight… joining in?”

“Ummm, actually…”

“A couple of lady friends would be coming along too…”

“Sure… why not! Perhaps that should cheer me up…”

TO BE CONTINUED

Greed: Part IV

This was going to be my day. The day of release. The day of redemption.

As I walked out of the door, all the scumbags who I’d shared a cell with gave me high fives and wished me all the best. Funny how life works out—8 years ago I’d have got this reception from guys in white collars and black suits and ties. Thinking about it, I don’t think there’s too much difference in character between the two.

The guy at the reception handed me my things: one golden watch, one silk handkerchief, one golden money clip with NO money in it, and a mobile phone (it wasn’t your sleek smart phone, it was one of those bulky contraptions that looked like a cordless rather than a mobile phone).

I walked out... and I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was a limo, waiting for me. Probably my daughter had a change of heart after all.

When I walked up to it, some punk guy shoved me, got into it, showed me the middle finger and drove off.

And I stood there, all alone.

A man in my position, I’d probably say I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m going to lead an honest life. I’m going to start my life all over again.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not greedy for more. As I’ve always said, greed is good. Now, when I look at the limo, greed seems legal!

By the way folks, you’d better know me better—I’m Gordon Gekko, world famous corporate raider. Aha, no... why don’t you start calling me Gordon?

Greed: Part III

The worst part about being in jail wasn’t the time—that went well—it was the words that I heard from my daughter.

“HE’S DEAD DAD! DEAD! AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT… IF ONLY YOU WERE THERE…”

That was the last time she came to see me in jail. My son had just died of a drug overdose. It was through the money I’d made for him and my daughter. My greed for money outdid his greed for drugs, yet what I got was jail and he got death. Funny kind of ‘divine justice’, I thought.

I guess what they say is true—dirty money meets a dirty end. Somehow, I’ve never been the same, arrogant man after that. It was as if something died within me.

Slowly, but surely, I had learnt to bury my guilt with anger. Now all I was greedy for was revenge. Revenge on that quack of an investment banker who ruined my life. And from tomorrow, it begins.

Part IV coming soon…

Greed: Part II

“You are sentenced to 5 years rigorous imprisonment under charges of felony and another 3 years for embezzlement...” The judge smashed the mallet on the table three times.

It was like hammering a nail into my head. Just a week back I was the king. I helped create wealth for others, and I made more than a bit on the side. I was respected, even feared. Some called me the messiah... some called me a shark. But either way, I loved it. A nice, plush home on Long Island. A dumb blonde who didn’t ask questions as long as she got what she wanted...

Until I bit off more than I could chew.

It all started with that rumour. I thought I could pull down one of the world’s largest conglomerates. Everyone hedged their bets. I set the rumour rolling and we were all waiting for a big, fat prize.

Unfortunately, I had a rat in the team. He and my rival quashed the rumour and gave us up. And I was sentenced to 8 years for trying to create some prosperity. Instead, I am now rotting in hell.

But don’t you even think for a moment that I’m going to give up... I’m not. Jail time has given me a lot of time to think... and now, I’ve made up my mind.

Part III coming soon...

Greed: Part I

Life has surrounded us with traps, meant to entice. Looking at it from another angle, it’s actually God’s way of throwing a few red herrings on our trail, secretly hoping that we pass the test and don’t follow the trail.

But we do, don’t we? We’re HUMAN BEINGS.

It’s like getting your first share of profit at the markets. Quite like when an animal smells blood. It feels so good...

Out of the seven sins, I believe that greed is the worst. It’s like those ‘gold/platinum’ credit cards—NO LIMITS!

Oh wait! You may be wondering why I’m writing all this... I’m in jail actually. And actually enjoying every minute of it...

Part II coming soon...

HAVE MERCY

A loud cry in the middle of the night woke me up. The rain should have actually drowned out any other sound, but this cry was different. I woke up to find that there was no power (as usual). As I walked over to the living room, the cries grew louder. I opened the door and looked around. No one was there. As I turned back, my eyes fell on the porch. I got the shock of my life.

He was like God to his people, Lal sahib. He was the wealthiest zamindar in Allahabad. And the kindest. People from all over India would come to him with their problems and he would treat those problems as his own. And this man was about to become a father. His entire village was in celebration. In a few days, they were going to be blessed with God’s successor.

“DADI! Please get the lamp!” Dadi was 78 years old, but I knew that if there was anyone I could count on in such a situation, it was her. We’d been living alone in this village for more than 20 years now, and she was respected (even feared, maybe) by every person. When she came to see what was happening, she just silently shook her head.

Lal sahib had brought a doctor home. His wife was in labour. In those days, only the wealthiest could afford to bring a doctor home. Apparently, the doctor threw up words like ‘complication’, but Lal sahib would have none of that. He ONLY wanted to hear good news. A little while later, the doctor came out.

“UFFF! Are you going to keep that poor thing out?” Dadi screamed. She took the little boy in her hands, and dried him with the towel that wrapped her shoulders. I looked on, almost in disbelief. “Dadi, it’s a BOY! And as it is, we’ve got problems of our own? Why should we care?” I got one resounding slap.

"Please, don’t shout, the villagers are standing outside.” Yes. The entire village indeed wondered what was going on. This was supposed to be a day of happiness, of joy, of celebration. But Lal sahib was bellowing at the top of his voice, and things were flying about. There were pleas and cries for help, but no one moved. Probably the villagers were too stunned to hear their God, so angry, so out of touch with his usual self. And then, it was all revealed.

“Have you forgotten Dadi? Have you forgotten how we were humiliated? It was YOU who told me all those stories, Amma! You told me how my father lost his mind! You told me how he just kicked out a woman and her helpless daughter! You hated men, AMMA! YOU HATED MEN! YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN STRONG AND PUT THEM DOWN DADI! Now, you’ve slapped me for this BOY?”

“AFTER SO MANY YEARS, YOU GIVE ME A GIRL?? A GIRL?? FIE UPON YOU!” Saying so, he just kicked them out of the house. Both mother and daughter. In front of the whole village. Lal sahib was no longer God. He had transformed into something terrible.

“Don’t be a fool.” was Dadi’s riposte. “And don’t be under the impression that I’ve forgotten anything. I haven’t. That’s why I don’t want you ending up like your father. Now come inside and help me with this little lad. Looks like he’s going to need milk.”

Dadi could never forget Lal sahib. She had only forgiven him. And that was that.