By Neel Anil Panicker
At eighty, Thakur Vikramjit Singh still adheres to his military-style work ethics, getting up at the crack of dawn and taking a spirited kilometre long walk around his palatial farmhouse.
Life for him was a beautiful chess game with all the pieces well placed, their every move a well thought out strategy that emanated from the astuteness of his mind.
Until a recent incident that changed everything.
Despite his vociferous objections, his sons went ahead with their grandiose plans to enter the liquor business.
They cited big money as their motive.
“Money, my foot!”, he had thundered. “We have made enough money for the next seven generations. You’ve become multi-millionaires running businesses more challenging than what you could have ever imagined.
They were unrelenting; his sons, all three of them.
He kept up his persuasion.
“Don’t you know that I am a teetotaller. That it is against our values to make money out of another man’s misery?”
Arguments flew back and forth, and finally he ran out of patience.
“Not on my soil and not with my assent”.
They took no time to leave, every single one of them, all his sons and their families.
Sadly, his wife too shifted camps and left him in the autumn of his life.
Today, much like the decrepit arch of a once glorious edifice, he keeps vigil, his ramrod frame a study in defiance, steadfastly clinging on to values long gone dead, his ears deafeningly assaulted by the disconcerting trumpets of moral decadence.
©neelanilpanicker2017 #writephoto #words250 #fiction #shortstory
Written for the wonderfully talented Sue Vincent’s weekly fiction writing challenge