Nadarajan ****

Nadarajan had been born lucky. His father, and before him, his grand father, and in fact all his forefathers had been wealthy philanthropists, highly respected by the community. Nadarajan ran his business well. His workers were honest and trustworthy. His business dealings were smooth. Money was pouring in. And Nadarajan was generous with his workers and business associates. They in turn respected him. He was a gentleman. And his wife and children were the best too. Ananthi herself came from a well-to-do family. The children were well behaved, humble and did well in their studies. Nadarajan continued to be lucky. “His forefathers did many good deeds, and Nadarajan is reaping the harvest.” The people were proud of the upright citizen in Nadarajan.

Nadarajan was never ruffled. He remained calm all the time. Somehow he knew that everything will be alright. His workers and friends would often come to him in despair, but he would speak to them in soothing words. He would somehow always manage to persuade them to look on the bright side. Everything will pass. Everything will be alright. And when he said this to them , they would somehow be reassured. And things would turn out alright. Nadarajan could handle any situation. This was what everyone believed. Until that fateful day.

Nadarajan was shaking. His mind raced. He could not hear the comforting words his workers and relatives were uttering. His perfect, unshakeable world had coming crashing down. Nothing would be the same again. For awhile Nadarajan had been in denial. No. Such things cannot happen to him. It only happened to others. He should know. They always came to him with these problems. And he would comfort them. But now, the awful truth was staring him in the face. It had happened to him. The doctors said he had Cancer.

Nadarajan lashed out at everyone around him. He screamed at Ananthi. Ananthi was shocked that her calm and collected Nadarajan had transformed into this monster. The children clutched at their mother in terror. They could not even recognize their father, in the state he was in. The villagers bore the brunt of his anger. He blamed everyone. Hurtful words spewed forth. He even cursed the Gods. The villagers were astounded, seeing the change in Nadarajan. He had no faith. He had no strength. He trusted no one. He was hollow. His unabashed selfishness shamed them.

The phone rang. It continued to ring. No one dared to pick it up, fearing Nadarajan’s wrath. Finally he screamed at Ananthi, “Pick up the phone woman.”

Ananthi moved quickly to the phone, and lifted it to her ear. She listened, speechless. Her face was a study of emotions. “What are you saying? Are you sure ? Positive? No mistake? ”

Slowly she put down the phone.

“There was a mistake. The test results were incorrect. You are perfectly healthy.”

As the reality of the news sank in, Nadarajan felt a flush of unbearable shame. He looked around at his wife and children, the relatives, his workers, the villagers. He had no words. As he looked, they averted his eyes. Slowly they turned and left. One by one. Nadarajan was alone.