The Scoop ****

Sundaram lay in his hammock chair. He munched the potato chips as he lay watching the late night news on the TV. The tower fan rotated slowly, enhancing the natural breeze coming from the luxuriant foliage surrounding the place. He switched off the light and TV, and lay down to sleep. The noise of the traffic on the nearby roads was loud, but for Sundaram, it was muted, buffered and filtered through the thick green shrubbery.

As he lay on his bed, Sundaram felt a sense of bliss. It had been 5 years now, since he moved to this place, and things were highly satisfactory, to say the least. And it was completely free. A peaceful place, close to all amenities. Yet away from the public’s prying eyes.

****

Roy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His day had not gone well so far. First his editor had chewed him up for not coming up with any stories for the week. Then the call from his wife nagging about the unattended repairs in the home. And she needed money to buy provisions. Again. And now, he was stuck in this traffic. Roy looked out of the car window absent mindedly, at the rich green wall of plants below the highway ramp. All of a sudden the bushes parted, and a neatly dressed grey haired man appeared. But as the bushes parted, Roy glimpsed something that he couldn’t believe. As it sank in, Roy’s face lit up.

***

Of course it had not been like this at first. Sundaram had through his ingenuity, availed of basic needs. A small tap installed by the landscape department was just at the edge of the road, and he connected a hose to his rudimentary bathroom, filling the large drums and cans from time to time. And using his electrician’s skills, he had connected an extension from the dangling loose wire from the street light above, giving him a constant supply of free electricity. The other small comforts he had improvised over the years – a basic toilet and bathroom over the drain, plywood and zinc sheet hut, insulated by green plants growing pergola style, rudimentary furniture, TV, a small fridge, an electrical stove and so many other things. Sundaram lived under the ramp at one the busiest intersections in the city.

***

Sundaram was sweeping the front of his house, gathering the fallen leaves in a pile. Glancing up, he was startled to see the smiling young man.
“Hi. Don’t worry, I’m a friend. I saw you just now, and I was curious. Can I sit down?” Roy sat down on the small plastic chair.
Sundaram sat opposite him uncertainly. To Sundaram, the human interaction was a refreshing experience. He had been used to the solitary life for far too long. Soon, they began chatting. And Sundaram opened up, relating his story in all detail.

***

It was on page two of the Moon Newspaper. “Man makes comfortable home below highway ramp”. The story was accompanied by several pictures of Sundaram in various poses around his “home”.

Mr. Simon, the editor of the Moon was pleased. The story had certainly been a good one for the paper. He had praised Roy for the scoop.

Tuan Zakaria was furious. How could his officers and workers have been oblivious to this activity? A man building a home with stolen water and electricity supply, all under their very noses? It was unacceptable. He wanted a full investigation, and the negligent officers would be hauled up. He ordered all the illegal structures cleared. On top of that, the bushes and shrubbery would also be cleared, to prevent anyone else from moving in.

The political parties jostled with one another, pointing fingers and offering aid to Sundaram. A low cost flat was offered. “We will not stand by idly and watch when a needy member of our society is living in abject poverty. We will do all we can to give him a dignified place to live.” Declared the Chief Minister.

A major corporation offered to pay his rental and utility bills for a year. A supermarket donated provisions. Well wishers collected more than RM 20,000, which they handed over in a brief ceremony reported by the Moon on its front page. Several individuals claiming to be Sundaram’s long lost relatives appeared to embrace him back into their fold. Sundaram’s life was turned upside down.

Sundaram sat in the tiny living room, looking out through the metal grill. The paint was peeling off the walls, and water dripped from the bathroom ceiling. The flats were squalid, rats and cockroaches were everywhere, and crime was rife. He was afraid to go out after dark. He had been mugged twice. Life was a struggle. There were so many bills to pay. And it was a mere existence. He longed for his carefree days in his old home.