As You Sow, so You Reap

(Short story)

Brindavan was a bigwig of Bombay. He owned a few industries in the city. No one knew when and how he became a favoured minion of fortune. Rumours were thick in the air that he was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth. While a cross-section of the public opined that he was an orphan adopted by a well-heeled widow, another section was of the opinion that he came from rags to riches with no adventitious aids, but by dint of hard work coupled with sound commonsense. Despite the divided opinion it was an indubitable fact that he was a business magnate of Bombay.

Brindavan had no formal education. He was educated in the rough school of life. People possessing university degrees were no match to him. His incisive intellect, tenacity of purpose and promethean patience enabled him to occupy a pivotal place in the elite of Bombay.

The wheel of time swiftly moved on. Brindavan shut his eyes to all kinds of charity and set his eyes on the wealth which he believed was an easy canter to fame. He put his talents to optimum use. In his mad pursuit of wealth he never cared to taste the bliss of domestic life to his heart’s content. His deft handling of business affairs saw wealth pouring in. Money is mother’s milk to politics. A political greenhorn soon became an adept without peer in politics. He used his money power as a leverage in various ways. His activities ranged from getting permits and licences to his minions to those of obtaining plum posts for his proteges. He was a past master in the game of enticing and adroitly handling the officials. Very often his game was worth the candle. Official favours flowed freely to him. Even the incorrigibly incorrupt officials seldom escaped from his honey-coated words, winsome smiles and cunning logic. That was the brainy Brindavan.

It is said that wiving goes by destiny. Yasoda, the wife of Brindavan, was cast in an entirely different mould. She was simple and guileless, dignified and docile, deeply religious and philosophical. In her the cult of humility reached the degree of perfection. She was apathetic in the extreme to comforts and conveniences of life. In short she was a chaste jewel of a woman. To her life was divine. Her heart bled at the sight of those dwelling in slums and sordid surroundings, toiling in penury and suffering ill-health. She was the hope and prop for the poor and the needy. Her left hand never knew what her right hand gave. Such was the ego-less self, Yasoda. She could not reconcile with the activities of her husband who was bitten by the “Money bug”. Many a time she tried to veer him round to her philosophy of life. But the power and pelf of Brindavan did burn him blind to her words of wisdom. In spite of their incompatible temperaments they never tried to tread each other’s corn.

Time sped. The couple were blessed with a son and a daughter. Days rolled by. Brindavan’s son Gopal grew into a young beauliful lad of eighteen summers. He was petted and pampered by his doting parents. Life’s luxuries were at his beck and call. An only son brought up in the lap of luxury and under the lavish­ing care of his parents, is likely to fall an easy prey to vices. But destiny willed it otherwise. He was the pink of courtesy and a rose without a thorn. The daughter Sushil was a matchless beauty and a paragon of virtue. An epitome of modesty and simplicity, she was liked by one and all.

All went well for sometime. Inscrutable are the ways of Destiny. Fever gripped Sushil. She was treated for it. It showed no signs of abatement. This caused anxiety to her parents. She was getting emaciated slowly and steadily. The disease defied doctors of eminence. An All-India Medical Conference was taking place at that time in Bombay. The cream of the country attended it. Brindavan lost no time in picking up a young brilliant physician who was considered nonpareil in the diagnosis of a disease. The doctor arrived and studied the patient with utmost care and caution. His fertile brain pitched upon a particular medicine to be administered soon. Gopal who loved his sister more than his dear self offered himself to fetch the medicine. Propelled by the inscrutable influence of Fate he started on his “Bullet” and dashed off with a lightning speed. He literally ransacked every medical shop of Bombay, big or small. As ill-luck would have it that medicine ran in short supply everywhere. He was a bit down in the mouth. Suddenly an idea flashed in his mind. An only medical shop situated some-where in a narrow lane escaped his searching eyes. It was also reputed for selling rare medicines. Gopal directed his Bullet in that direction. The needle of the speedometer was leaning heavily on the right side. The vehicle had to negotiate a sharp bend at that narrow lane. It had a head on collision with a lorry coming in the opposite direction. A thundering sound was followed by welter of blood in which Gopal’s body lay motionless. The news of the accident shocked Brindavan into sublimity. He stood transfixed.

Memories of days gone by started crowding his mind. At one time the Corporation of Bombay indulged in a serious thought of widening that narrow lane. A palatial building situated on its side had got to be demolished. The thought was to be translated into action. This was resisted to the hilt by its owner. He succeeded in stalling the move of the Corporation only with the political clout that Brindavan could command. Brindavan slowly came to his senses. The flood gates of grief were opened. He wept and wailed more so at the thought that he was at the root of the loss of his dearest darling. Meanwhile the life of his daughter was hanging in the balance. The medicine was brought from that “rare curiosity shop”. No sooner had it been administered than she collapsed. This shock was a slap in Brindavan’s face. Scarcely had he regained his consciousness than he lost it once again. That shop, the very shop from which that rare medicine was brought, was famous for selling spurious drugs. Many a time the owner of the shop was booked by drug inspectors and ironically was baled out every time by this Brindavan who wielded his influence with the authorities. His precious pearls had their lives blasted in the bud by his own actions. It is said that those whom the gods love die young.

Time flowed on. It is the best healer of all agonies and enmities. But it was an exception in the case of Yasoda. With every passing day her agony increased. Her plummeting health caused anxiety to Brindavan. He spared no effort to get her examined by the best of the doctors of Bombay. It was diagnosed that there was lung disorder for which an operation was imminent and imperative. She was admitted into the best of the hospitals. The Chief Surgeon took personal interest in attending the case. Brindavan knew that he was not that expert. He succeeded three young brilliant surgeons in getting his chiefship only with the helping hand of Brindavan. Brindavan had not the temerity to dissuade him from operating on her. The chief took pride and pleasure to take up this challenging case and wanted to repay the debt of gratitutde to his benefactor. Destiny conspired against the chief’s ability of handling the case. The curtain came down on Yasoda’s life.

Brindavan had no tear to shed, no strength to weep and no sense to feel. He tasted the fruits of his foul deeds. This incom­parable loss of his companion in his life’s long journey put him in utter desolation and despair. He had nobody to call his own and nobody to turn to. Who can swim against the current of time and pre-destination! Brindavan yielded to fate. His philosophy underwent a sea change. He was convinced of the futility of his fabulous wealth. He realised that a cup of tea and a couple of cakes were enough to sustain life. He gave up all his wealth to charitable institutions as a measure of expiation of his sins. With a loin cloth on his fragile frame and with an unflinching faith in the Almighty, he left Bombay for the distant unknown. His life is a lesson to posterity. Inexorable is the law of Karma. The divine dispensation ‘As you sow, so you reap’ seemed veritably true with Brindavan.