Life’s A Lottery

By Roy Thomas

Varkey paced on the open portico of his cottage with a preoccupied look on his face. On a normal day, he would have been walking between the Grevillea trees examining the pepper vines growing on them, checking on the vanilla plants or watching the rubber tapping on his small, twenty-acre property.

At 12.30 p.m. sharp he would return for his lunch to the cottage he had built. His wife Mamie always waited in attendance, watching him devour the mountains of rice placed before him. The daily ritual usually ended with a large portion of rice, mixed with curds and banana and sugar squeezed between his fingers into a paste, eaten as a dessert with great relish. A loud burp, as he ponderously rose from the table, indicated to the anxiously-waiting wife that the repast was good and was much appreciated.

This was followed by a long siesta after which he was given a large, steaming cup of tea, which he slurped, this time sitting along with Mamie, while silently listening to her complaints about the servants and all the gossip she picked up from each of them. On the rare occasion, he ventured to make an observation or a comment.

But today was not just another day.

Varkey’s wife Mamie –‘Mamiekochamma’ as she was fondly called by all her friends and neighbors, had broken the good news the previous evening that his daughter Jessie, who had just completed her pre-university course at St Teresa’s college in Ernakulum, had got admission at the St. John’s school of nursing in Bangalore. The bad news was that the cost of admission and other charges would work out to around Rupees fifty thousand.

Varkey couldn’t believe that education costs were so expensive. He remembered that he had got through his entire ‘Intermediate course’ at St Berchman’s college in the small town of Changanacherry for exactly seven hundred and fifty rupees-that included his hostel fees!

Not that he did not have money-Varkey had over the years accumulated his ‘egg nest’, occasionally by fair and mostly by unfair means. Most of his money had been made in the ‘gelf’ where he had worked as the Assistant to an expat Britisher who paid him fairly reasonably while also teaching him how to drink, to talk English properly, and to impress people with ‘big talk’.

‘Bullshit baffles the brain Varkey-never forget that,’ he would lecture his assistant. Varkey never forgot this and, in fact, became so good at it that he even managed to ‘rook’ his boss of tidy sums of money on several occasions just by ‘bullshitting him!!’

On his return to Kerala, like most of his brethren from the Middle East, he had invested in the small estate he lived on, built a cottage on it, and kept the rest of his money as fixed deposits at the local Federal Bank. These prudent investments, along with the sale of the produce of his estate, gave him enough monthly income to live comfortably and Varkey was content with this arrangement.

Life was good-he had saved enough to meet all his requirements -to live out the rest of his life, comfortable and tension-free, with enough buffer to meet any emergencies and also to ensure that his only daughter would get married to someone worthy of his family status. He had, with his normal foresight and planning, already started enquiring about various eligible boys who were doing there engineering, medicine or even studying for their IAS.

As a last resort, he figured, a prominent insert in the local newspaper ‘Malayalam Manorama’ would give him enough choices to finalise on. His reputation as a ‘Gulf returnee ‘with a sizable fortune and a valuable estate, would be enough for any eligible bachelor, he reckoned, to consider his only child, who was not only talented but also beautiful, as a great catch.

Varkey baulked at the thought of breaking any of his deposits to take the required sum of money, which would mean that he would lose the accumulated interest. He had decided immediately that he would have to raise this amount from ‘other sources’.

Somewhere in the recesses of his sharp and astute mind he had subconsciously anticipated such a situation and had also thought of what he would do should such a contingency arise.

It was now only a matter of fine-tuning the whole plan of ‘raising additional funds’ and to execute it with precision. Varkey, by nature, had been blessed with a fine brain and was meticulous in all he did.

He had studied the whole ‘lottery ticket’ scheme that was operated by various state governments and was convinced there were enough loopholes in them for him to make a quick buck if required. He had even invested small sums of money to study his chances of striking bonanza and had successfully started a group investment scheme with his friends where they shared the profits or losses while spreading the risks.

He had gradually developed an expertise on how things worked at all the major lotteries. Varkey had a gambling streak in him-trying his luck at this form of gambling always gave him a high and the rapid-fire sales pitch of the vendors in hired auto-rickshaws and vans as they tried to entice passer-byes to try their luck never failed to set his pulse-raising!!

It took a week for him to put his plan into action.

He remembered that the results of the Sikkim state lottery would be out the following Tuesday. Varkey had noted that most of the authorized agents would normally have the results early that day. One of his relatives, Baby, was in fact one of the local authorized agents and would also have access to the results.

Varkey had a close friend Kunj who ran a small ‘desk-top printing’ unit in Trivandrum. During one of his trips to Trivandrum, he had already studied the process and found that very high-definition copies of any original could be taken with a little bit of expertise. He had stored this information in his mind for use when the need arose.

Varkey left for Trivandrum on Monday morning after speaking to Baby and Kunj several times. His trusty Ambassador car, which normally remained in the garage, had been taken out and serviced by his mechanic who would now double up as his driver for the journey.

Varkey also took with him his suit which had been carefully preserved in an insect-proof suitcase (portmanteau as his boss would grandly call it!) for the right occasion. No one, not even his wife, ever suspected that both the suitcase and the suit had actually belonged to his ex-British boss.

Varkey, during his stint in the Middle East, had noticed that his boss and he had similar builds and realizing that a suit would definitely come useful someday later to impress people in Kerala, had quietly stolen it without the corpulent Britisher even realizing that it had gone missing!

Needless to say, Varkey, with his prescience, had also stolen the stylish ‘aviator’ style Ray band coolers, which the Boss definitely missed especially while driving around in the hot afternoon desert glare. Fortunately for Varkey he blamed his loss on the bloody ‘sticky- fingered Arabs’!!

Varkey spent the evening in confabulation with his nephew Kunj and also spoke a couple of times with Baby over the telephone after reaching Trivandrum.

Having put his plan together and after having briefed everyone he did a dry run to the airport –his route for the next day- and then retired early, knowing that he would need to be fresh and alert in the morning.

The call from Baby came in around six in the morning. Varkey - meticulous as ever- had placed a note pad and pen near the telephone and without much waste of time quickly noted down the number that was given to him.

The next call was to Kunj who was also up by that time in anticipation of the assignment. The man had prepared the template and all that had to be done was to feed in the prize-winning number to produce an authentic-looking ticket that would then be handed over to his uncle for the promised tidy sum of money.

The job was completed fast and within an hour, the ‘Rupees one lakh’ prize-winning ticket from the ‘Sikkim state lottery’ was hand-delivered to him. Varkey, with years of experience handling lottery tickets, examined this one critically and was satisfied with the quality of the reproduction. A couple of crisp ‘big ones” changed hands!

By ten-thirty that morning he walked briskly down the driveway to the waiting steel-grey Ambassador car. No one seeing him would have recognized him as the same dhoti-clad person who had driven in the previous day. Varkey was wearing his suit with an ‘off white shirt’ and a striped tie and looked the quintessential business tycoon!!

The drive to the big store took 20 minutes -5 minutes more than was anticipated, thanks to some heavy traffic. It housed one of the largest lottery dealers in the city, along with a large book store, which had a well-stocked collection of books and magazines.

Varkey strolled into the book store with a measured stride. His personality was such that he soon had fawning attendants immediately rushing to him to offer assistance. The fat proprietor stopped picking his nose and looked up with interest at the early-morning customer…

“Could you get me some business magazines –Business World, Financial Times and maybe the Business Line - I need something that will keep me engaged during my flight to Dubai,” Varkey ordered in a loud voice as he casually looked through the stacked bookshelf.

After some time he picked up Jack Welch’s “Straight from the gut’ and along with the magazines, which were handed over to him by the attendant, came to the cash counter. He pulled out a 1000 rupee note from a wad of notes and handed it over to the proprietor- shoving the balance back into his wallet with a look of disdain.

His eyes then moved over to the lottery tickets of various states that had been displayed at the counter.

“I see you are involved in the lottery business,” he said casually to the proprietor with a slight smile on his face.

“Oh yes,” came the reply, “we are one of the largest agents in the state sir–the book store is just side business for us!”

“That’s interesting,” Varkey remarked, “in fact, I do occasionally buy a few tickets myself but most of the time it remains in my coat pocket and ends up in the laundry as I never get down to check if I’ve won anything! Actually, I have a Sikkim lottery ticket which some sales guy pestered me to buy a few days ago when I flew in from Singapore –must be somewhere in my wallet I’m sure….”

“Really,” replied the proprietor, “the results have just been announced, we could check and see whether the Goddess Lakshmi has favored you today!!”

Varkey, after a small search, pulled out the ticket from his wallet and handed it over to the proprietor.“Here it is –if it’s not a crore then I am not interested!!” he remarked with a nonchalant look on his face.

The proprietor’s hand raced down the list with practiced ease and then stopped mid-way for a few seconds while he rechecked the number.

“You know what,” he said excitedly, “you have just won Rupees two lakhs!!”

“Two lakhs,” replied Varkey with a look of disdain, “that’s peanuts- I make that in a day back in Dubai!”

“What’s the problem,” questioned the proprietor excitedly, ‘it’s free money and all you have to do is to go over to the Director of Lotteries to claim your prize”.

“No way,” was the curt reply, “I have a flight to catch in two hours, so there’s no chance that I can go and claim the prize….maybe I should just give it to my driver… or just tear it up...”

A crafty look came to the proprietor’s beady eyes. “Why do you want to tear it up Sir? Can I make a suggestion- why don’t you give me the ticket and I will collect the money for you for a small commission,” he said with an expectant look of hope on his face.

“Forget it,” said Varkey, “Frankly, I don’t have the time…or the inclination… and I am already late for the flight-thank you for the books,” he replied as he abruptly turned to leave.

A look of desperation came on to the proprietor‘s greedy face.

“Sir” he pleaded, “let’s make a deal -Give me the ticket and I will pay you half the money upfront and keep the balance as my commission-it would only take me five minutes to get the cash,” he continued anxiously as he came out of the counter and clawed on to Varkey’s arm.

“Are you sure?”Varkey asked with a doubtful look on his face that simultaneously conveyed to the hopeful supplicant that he might just reluctantly consider the proposal.

“Definitely,” yelled the elated proprietor, even as he shouted to the cashier to check the money in the safe.

The bespectacled cashier solemnly informed him that there was thirty thousand rupees and this had been kept aside to make payment which was due to the Tamil Nadu State for the tickets they had received.

“Screw the Tamil Nadu state lottery,” screamed the proprietor, “just run over to Johnny’s shop and ask him for a loan of seventy thousand immediately –tell him I will return it in the evening...!”

“It’s the electronics store down the road –just a 100 meters away sir”, he explained excitedly to Varkey, “it will just take a minute. Just sit down and have a glass of Narengya Vellum (fresh lime and soda drink) that I am arranging for you...”

Varkey sat at the edge of the chair drumming his fingers impatiently on the table and pointedly ignoring the polite conversation the proprietor was trying to make, while brusquely pushing aside the glass of lime soda that was placed by his side.

“Stop it...enough of your inane trite,’ he growled, ‘If I miss the flight I am going to eat you alive,” he informed the proprietor angrily.

“Give me two more minutes sir, please,” replied the perspiring proprietor as he kept anxiously loo king at the door waiting for the clerk to appear.

After about five long minutes, the sweating clerk hurried back with the money, which the proprietor grabbed without any ceremony. He counted out a total of one lakh rupees with trembling hands and finally, handed it over to Varkey. He was by then also sweating profusely at the thought of this early-morning bonanza and gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

Varkey handed over the ticket to the anxious man and took the bundle of notes, thrusting it into his coat pocket without even looking at it. Ignoring the outstretched hand of the fawning proprietor he strode out without a word.

Both the driver and the passenger were silent for around five minutes till they reached the diversion that took them to the national highway, which would then take them to their home town.

“Home James,” Varkey murmured under his breath with a smile, very much the way he had heard his ex-Brit boss instruct his chauffeur.

*********

By Roy Thomas