It could have been a winner, It had to be winner, he had bet his last thousand on them. But it had lost miserably, and now the animal and the rider were returning with a bowed head, as if ashamed of all that they had made him loose. He wished he could shout out loud and tell them the truth. But he kept his tongue, firmly in his mouth all the excitement had glued his tongue.
As the reality dawned on him slowly, a creepy feeling clawed at the pit of his stomach. He was penniless finally he had lost it all. The complete fortune that his dear departed dad had bequeathed him. It had taken him exactly 25 days to loose all of, what his father had taken 50 years to create.It had been a tough deal for him too. Loosing money did not come easy to him.
To create money and attract money was in his blood. He was like a magnet for money; it just came from no where and struck to me, but not any more. It had taken lot of un learning and hard work to loose the millions that had been lying like dead friends in coffins in the bank accounts.
He had been his dad’s true son, the son that he had always wished for, but never really wanted.
His passion had been earning money. Every time he earned another Million, he celebrated, just like a proud father would have celebrated his favorite’s son’s Birthday. His father was the original Scrooge mc duck. Karthekein Often felt that his father’s eyes no longer held emotions, but dollar signs. he spoke a strange language, it was a language that Karthkein could not understand, it was the language of money. It always started with money and ended with money, emotions, relationships, feelings were just strung into the sentences like carcasses of long dead and forgotten forefathers.
His mother had spoken his language, she used to speak of love, hate, friendship and above all she spoke of him. For her the Sun rose and set on Karthekein’s shoulder. She had been his touch of sanity. As long as she had lived, his world had a golden thread of sanity running thorough it. But finally, she had given up on life. it was as if her life burning at both ends, had finally given up the struggle. Her funeral had been the darkest day in karthekein’s life. Since then the sunshine had faded away from his life, instead long dark nights and equally black days had starched endlessly in his life. He had given up his mother’s dream of love and faith and chased the mirage of his father’s dream. He had dragged on like this for couple of years and then one day, his father’s manager, assuming, that he has privy to all his father’s business secrets had called him up in an hour of dir emergency. His father was not traceable. Nothing unusual, karthekein was sure he was spending g some wild days and nights with his young nubile mistress on his secret island. Not that he cared any more. The manager had wanted to know what was he supposed to do with the next consignment that had arrived, Karthekein had been puzzled, he had not known about any consignment was due to arrive, it was when the manager had elaborated that he had realized that it was a truck load of children stolen and kidnapped from their parents, off to be shipped to dreadful fates.
From then on it had been a night mare, the air around him had suddenly become poisonous and the more deeply he breathed the more dizzy he felt. He had hit the floor with the bang and had lain there trying to catch his breath and gather his scattered thoughts about him.
He shut himself off from the world, as if trying to hide with shame, born of the deeds of his father. God had been kind to him. He came to know after a week of his father’s characteristic absence that he had been found dead on his secret island. Drug overrode the Doctor had diagnosed. he had calmly accepted it and had gone about spending his dad’s millions. People would have preached him and would have told him to donate the millions to a charity for unfortunate children, but he had known better. Millions stained with the blood and tears of kids, could never do any good to any one, they were best wasted, away in gambling and that’s what he had done days and nights and lost every damn penny of it, with as much zeal as his father had earned it. Every single penny had been wasted, just to punish his dad’s memory.
The memory of a cruel scrooge.
Gold, silver and crispy new notes,
Greed, sin and gluttony is all I see….
Earned by thousands and millions then,
Wasted away like a prostitute’s age.
I wish you to see it all, I wish you to cry…
I wish you to repent, but I know you died too rich for all those poor emotions….
So I damn you to hell….
And I wish you all evils…
May Satan be with you in your last sleep ;
May he make you afterlife miserably poor…
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