He got me my first billions.
He is still alive, the old bag of bones. His age varies from seventy
to a hundred depending on when and where you meet him. For all outer
appearances he seems to be a lunatic; mad, loco, crazy. His words are
crazy enough. His actions are crazier still.
Before I tell you how I made my billions because of him I have to
introduce two persons.
The first person is the one and only Michael Magnum. If you do not
know his name you must have been just out of Sing Sing after doing fifty
years of solitary. It is possible to imagine people who have not heard of
Shakespeare or Einstein. But you cannot possibly imagine anyone who
has not heard of Michael Magnum – except may be those still twiddling
their toes in their cribs. Michael Magnum, as you know, is the richest
man in the world. (I don’t mind saying universe.)
Michael Magnum and I became friends through a chat-room. A
person of his stature never bothers about chatting- where is the time
for such lavishness? By some quirk of fate he entered a chat room of
the www, out of sheer curiosity – under a well-disguised ID of course. I
too do not like to squander my time in chat rooms, but the same quirk
of fate threw us together on that day. We chatted briefly. The time was
ripe or the chemistry between us was right. We hit it off famously. We
vowed never to enter chat rooms again. We exchanged e-mail IDs.
10 | Jestus
The second person is the very famous psychologist, Carl Gustav Jung. I was fascinated by his works during my college days. In one of his works he introduces the word synchronicity. In bald common language you could call it strange coincidences. But his concept goes beyond that and I will not bore you more than is absolutely necessary. The mad person introduced at the very beginning was my nodus of synchronicity.
I was idly strolling in the city park when I first saw him. A casual look at him told me he was mad. The old man – bag of bones as I said – was practically naked. A small dangling piece of loincloth symbolically served as his dress. Urchins in the park were teasing him. It was not a memorable or momentous event and I had forgotten him.
I saw him by chance a week later as I was passing through a street. He was about two hundred yards from me, but I could not mistake the unclad aged figure. Nothing special there. I saw him the next week and the next.
At this stage the event entered the realms of synchronicity. Every time I went out of my house I would see the fellow – always at a distance and for a few seconds.
I mentioned this curious occurrence to Michael Magnum in one of my e-mails. He did not bother to reply. But the old loony did bother to offer me his divine revelation every day. I pestered Magnum about this. He replied that it was a strange coincidence and not to dwell too much on it. The quirk of fate was not a quirk at all. It was a well-laid trap. For Michael Magnum. When I mentioned a third time about the loony he bet one dollar that I would not see the old man next day.
I did see the lunatic the next day and promptly sent an e-mail to Magnum reminding him he owed me one dollar. I ribbed him gently. If he was willing to bet again I would like to parlay my winnings. He agreed and lost. I had two dollars coming from him.
Magnum never lost to anybody. Fate reminded him of that. He was irritated and upped the ante. Two dollars became four dollars. Four dollars became eight. Eight begat sixteen and sixteen begat thirty-two.
Enter the Jestus | 11
If thirty-two begat sixty-four can one hundred and twenty-eight be far behind?
Magnum wanted to get back all he was losing. The old lunatic never failed to show himself to me. (God bless him.) Magnum trusted me completely. (God bless him too.)
I am not an Euler or a Gauss or Neumann or Gödel. But after consecutively winning the bet which was doubling daily, for thirty-five days, I calculated it out. (I have this gizmo called a digital calculator. You too can hold it in your palms, it won’t bite you.)
I e-mailed Magnum bringing to his notice that he owed me dollars two raised to the power of thirty-five. I suggested to him that he better stop the game before he went broke. Everything about Magnum is grand. He is a grand sport. In his reply mail he laughed (through an emoticon). He asked me to name a bank and city.
I naturally thought of Zurich. And the most famous, the most secretive, the most secure bank, the D’or D’or et Fils. Magnum created an account for me and wired the full odd billions, within twenty-four hours. He sent my account ID and password by encrypted mail. Michael Magnum is one heck of a swell guy. (That those billions were peanuts for him is a different matter.)
I was out of town for a few days. On Monday I went to my usual haunt for strolling, in the city park. Sure enough I met the goose that laid the golden eggs for me. The old loco sat quietly under a tree gawking at the trees and birds, smiling widely, inanely.
Since he was instrumental in my getting the billions I just wanted to have a look at him from close quarters. I casually walked towards him. I have already described his nakedness and general features. Except, from near you could see innumerable creases on his forehead, cheeks and around the eyes. That day his eyes were blue and shining. I was at a distance of about twenty feet from him as I inspected him. I mentally thanked him (out of a sense of humor) and was about to depart when he beckoned me.
I was hesitant, for you never know with these crazy guys. Some of them are violent and the strength of a mad man is proverbial.
12 | Jestus
He beckoned again. His smile was charming, in spite of those blackened toothless gums. I felt an attraction. I went and stood by him. He patted the patch of grass on the ground, gesturing me to sit down. I obliged.
“It is mine, give it to me,” he said gazing at my shirt pocket. I had a ballpoint pen. I touched the pen instinctively and held on to it.
“At least half of it,” he pleaded. Then I knew he was a real nut. I took out the pen, removed the cap and asked humorously,
“Which half do you want?” I showed him the cap. He shook his head negatively. I offered him the unprotected stub of the pen. He shook his head again. I explained to him, as to a child,
“See, the cap in my left hand is one half. This, in the right hand is the other half. Which half do you want?”
“Not this, not that,” the old man said, “But the other half.” It almost looked like some childish riddle to me.
“What other half is there?” I asked waving both hands in front of him.
“The other half in D’or D’or et Fils,” he said distinctly and with dignity!
I was stunned. I was literally tongue-tied. How the hell did he know about my affair with Michael Magnum? It was improbable; impossible. I pretended I had not heard him properly.
“Beg your pardon?” I said. It was very lame, I knew.
The mad man replied in a very reasonable voice,
“Come son, no games. I said D’or D’or et Fils. You heard it properly. There is only one bank in the world by that name. There is only one man in the world who goes by the name of Michael Magnum, who is a friend of yours and a trillionaire at the same time. Have I made myself clear? Do I have to repeat?”
My mouth went dry. Since I was unable to speak right then, I just nodded my head. I looked furtively around to see if anybody was listening to our conversation. Fortunately we were in an almost secluded spot.
The old man continued.
Enter the Jestus | 13
“You got your billions because of me. So it is only reasonable that you give me half of it. If I were a really greedy shark I would have demanded ninety percent of the moolah. I am a highly reasonable man, you see.”
I recovered gradually. And got thinking. I have a weakness. When somebody argues with me, I don’t know how, but I invariably come to accept his way of thinking. The lunatic’s demand seemed logical and reasonable to me. It was really true – if I had not spotted him continuously for thirty-five days I would not be having my billions.
I smiled at last.
“Okay, pop. I agree to your proposal.”
“Now, that is real gentlemanly. Are you sure you are willing to give me my half? No cheating?”
“No cheating, I promise.”
“That is good,” grandpa replied, “Nobody, especially you, can ever cheat me. You know what I will do if you cheat me? Do not think that you can agree for now and give me the slip once you are out of here. You know what I will do? I will squeeze my balls till you beg me to stop.” He burst out laughing at what he thought was a really good joke. I smiled. A good-hearted, harmless crank I guessed.
“I see you do not believe me,” he said looking at me, “Maybe a little demonstration will convince the monsieur?”
I was about to remonstrate. The joke was moving towards the farcical and further towards the obscene. Better beat a tactful retreat, I was thinking.
To my horror, the old man actually thrust his palm into the recess between his thighs and gripped his own pudenda.
At that very moment I felt an invisible hand grip my balls. It was eerie, fantastic, unbelievable. The old goat tightened the grip on his balls and squeezed hard. I yelled sharply. The pain was excruciating. I was incapable of making any kind of movement with my body. I had read in a dozen books, of the treatment they used to inflict on prisoners at a certain red building at Dzerzhinsky Square. Those images floated past my reeling eyes. There was only one way out for me. Gag and faint.
14 | Jestus
The lunatic in front of me mercifully released his grip on himself and smiled his toothless smile.
“That was for starters, as my favorite author would say,” he said gently.
It took me a few seconds to recover. Miraculously the pain vanished as quickly as it had come.
I told him reproachfully, “Papa, that was quite unnecessary. You know I would honor the deal. If you want I will give you a written note.”
He was beaming.
“Thank you. But I was just indulging in some innocent fun. I like you. You have a good heart. Now let me tell you something. I am saying this seriously.”
He suddenly swept the ground in front of him with his right hand and scooped out the earth. He showed his open palm. Shards of grass, mud and sand lay there. He extended his left hand, palm up. He weighed both hands in imaginary scales. Like a ham actor he declaimed loudly,
“This, here in my left hand, I hold your billions. This, here in my right hand, I hold, as you can see, mud, earth, grass and sand. I weigh them. To me, sir, they weigh the same. But in my heart, I value the contents of my right hand more.”
It was funny. He was outdoing the best of ham actors. His wizened eyebrows were dancing in delight. I had to laugh heartily.
Quite unexpectedly the crazy man threw the contents of his right hand: mud, earth, grass sand and all into his mouth and began to chew vigorously. I was aghast. I winced. To chew sand between toothless gums is not a pleasant sport. He did not spit out. He chewed; he masticated with enthusiasm and swallowed the whole darned mess. There seemed to be no end to his mad tricks.
He let me simmer down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if he had just eaten the choicest of Swiss chocolates.
“That makes two of us, if I may be permitted to drag in my favorite author,” he said.
Enter the Jestus | 15
I was anxious to know who his favorite author was, but I was more curious to know what he meant. Without my being aware of it, I had already come to like the crazy man immensely. I said in jest,
“Excuse me my gymnosophist. You could be a crazy old mattoid for all I care, but I would prefer to be a bit sane, if you don’t mind, that is. Ha ha, excuse me if I laugh.”
“Gymnosophist, ha ha,” he laughed, “I like it. But I maintain sir, we are two of a kind.”
I was puzzled, and raised my brows exaggeratedly. He explained.
“Quite simple. I indulge in dreaming. You indulge in dreaming. That makes two of us.”
From the moment I sat in front of this nutter everything was going haywire. I was feeling light-headed. There was no longer any point in trying to be sensible. I tagged along with him.
“You, venerable philosopher, fantasize. I dream. There is a difference there.”
“Essentially none my boy. We shall have a proper dialogue at length on that interesting topic some other day. Do you know why I said you were dreaming?”
“Tell me.’
“You were dreaming of your billions, you poor sod.”
I was roused.
“Oh, come on sachem. Michael Magnum is a real person. As real as you and I. My bet with him was real. I have printouts of my e-mails to prove it. The bank is more real and solid than both of us.”
“But your billions are not.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Every odd minute the crazy man was either talking or doing something unexpected.
He pointed to my shoulder bag.
“Take it out and talk with them,” he suggested.
The old man knew I had a cell phone in my bag. Was it an educated guess? Quite probably. If so, was he really a crazy man? I did not know. If he was not mad, loco, nutty then how could he eat a salad of mud, grass and sand? How could he sit there under the tree practically naked,
16 | Jestus
with sharp blades of grass, sand and thistles sticking into his bare ass? I did not know. I was confused.
As if hypnotized, I took out the cell phone. I pulled out my pocket notebook and found the numbers and code words and passwords. I connected to the DDF.
“D’or D’or et Fils,” announced a voice, dignified and vibrating in the rarified frequency of big money.
I explained who I was, who Magnum was (though that was unnecessary) and what had transpired between us and what Magnum had done for me, through the agency of DDF. The satellite linked voice listened patiently.
“All of that is true sir,” it explained. I smiled at the old man from the corner of my eyes.
“Then my billions.”
“They are safest and most permanent and most fixed,” the voice assured. Something did not sound right–the way he was using the words and stressing them in an odd rhythm.
“Fixed? I can’t quite get it.”
“Yes sir, you can’t quite get at it. Your money; you see, it is more than fixed. It is frozen.”
I froze.
“How do you mean?”
“You may not be aware of this. You see, we have different types of accounts. The account Mr. Magnum created for you is what you call, in ordinary terms, a kind of one-way street. You can put in, but you cannot take out. If you want to, you may put in a few more billions.”
“But that is ridiculous.”
“We have a wide range of customers throughout the world, with equally wide range of requirements. So we have many types of accounts. Mister Magnum opened this account especially for you, sir.”
“But there should be some special contingency under which the money can be drawn?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What is it?” I asked eagerly.
Enter the Jestus | 17
“In the event of your death, sir. Drawable by Michael Magnum.” The voice waited patiently to see if I had further questions.
If I had a regular telephone with the cradle, I would have slammed it down. I switched off my cell phone and threw it.
The old man rose (off his haunches from a sitting position, without pressing the hands on the ground), picked up my phone and handed it to me with an expression of mock condolences.
I dialed Michael Magnum. I briefly explained to him my encounter with the Zurich gentleman and shouted at him,
“What the hell have you done?”
He listened patiently to a few more expletives from me and said,
“Boy, billions do not come so easily. You see, you have to sweat for it. Quite a lot.” I kept quiet.
“Anything else, boy?” he asked.
“Nothing. Thank you.” I put the phone back in the bag.
And then I burst out laughing uncontrollably. I laughed till my belly ached. The crazy old man too joined.
A couple of passers–by looked at us in a peculiar manner. They could not decide who was the crazier of the two. The laughter subsided and gave way to giggles. The giggles rose in ripples. The ripples ebbed away.
Crazy said, “If I may be permitted to quote my favorite author…” I caught on.
“This is the way the cookie crumbles,” I supplied.
“Easy come, easy go,” he rounded it off.
After a moment’s silence he said,
“You see it has taken a big load off your mind. I can see your heart has become lighter.”
“Yes. In a way, that money was never mine. It was sitting thousands of miles away from here in some godforsaken sector of a godforsaken hard disk. It was as tangible as a dream. Poetically I would say it was a common dream shared by Magnum, you and me.”
Crazy nodded. Gazing at the distant clouds, he said,
18 | Jestus
“Life itself is a vast unending dream. You and I have our petty dreams within that dream.”
His words touched an unsuspected chord in my heart. I almost felt I understood him. And then intuition failed me. All I could was to doodle on the grass. Dusk was fast approaching. The air was getting chilly.
The crazy coot said, “Well, we had an interesting evening. Let us toast to it.” I looked at him quizzically.
He swept his hands behind his back and brought them forward. There were two paper cups in his hands. Hot steam was rising from them. I smelt the fragrance of my favorite drink – coffee. He smiled and offered me a cup. I did not understand how he did it, nor did I care a rap. I took the cup. We sipped in silence.
I felt as if I was standing on the edge of a thin borderline. I was not even sure what lay on the other side. It could be the land of dreams. It could be the depthless region of insanity, where the old man apparently stood. He was beckoning gently. I wavered and hovered on the border. The pull of temptation from the other side was strong.
With a jolt, I stepped back into the reality of the present; or what I thought to be such. The crazy man was observing me intently, a thin smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I uttered, not knowing what I meant.
We had finished the coffee. Crazy coot said,
“We had a good meeting my lad. I like you. You can meet me any time you feel like.” To this day I do not know how it happened. I just accepted his friendship totally, without reservation.
“Where do we meet?” I asked, as if it was the most natural question.
“Not to worry. You will be guided. It is enough if you have the intention,” he replied. It was a very strange reply. The light was quickly fading. We stood up. Suddenly he embraced me. I was subconsciously expecting the fetid odor from his dirty body to engulf me. To my utter surprise the aroma of jasmine was emanating from him. It was pleasing and confusing at the same time.
I shook his hand. And then slapped my forehead with my open palm. I had all the while forgotten to ask his name. He understood
