(C.V. Rajan)
“What can I do, man? It’s a question of survival. I broke the rule; now I’m on a winning path. Just have some patience—I’ll surely give back the money. It’s just a matter of time,” said Selvadurai.
Already a couple of pegs had gone into his stomach. His words were slurred.
Since he hadn’t responded to my phone calls, I had to barge into his room at the lodge. I didn’t expect him to be this drunk.
In a way, coming to his room unexpectedly while he was drinking turned out to be good. Alcohol had loosened his tongue. He wasn’t maintaining his usual, highly cultivated ‘gentleman’s manners’ now. Through his blabbering, I came to know his real personality. A cheater. One who would stoop to any level to deceive others for his survival.
It was a new revelation for me. Selvadurai was not the person I had imagined all along.
“Selva, let me be frank with you. I need my money back at all costs. My sister’s marriage has been fixed. My parents are depending on my contribution. Even if our friendship breaks, I don’t care. I need my money. Period,” I said firmly. I had never spoken to him like that before.
Selvadurai held my hand. “Hey! Don’t say things like that. I value your friendship. You’re a nice guy. You’re different. I like you. I promise I’ll return the money… maybe within two weeks. My next big payment from Auto Parts Limited is due. My cheating has worked! Their quality engineer took the bribe from me, and signed off the Quality Approval on my last supply of castings. The money will come. I’ll pay you back. Sure, sure…”
He forced me to sit on the chair. “Hey, have a drink with me; be my honoured guest tonight…” he blabbered.
“You know very well I don’t drink. Bye. I’ll come back in two weeks. Keep the cheque ready.” I got up and left his room.
Why did he explain in such detail how he broke the quality standards to supply lower-grade material to Auto Parts Limited? Was he feeling guilty? Afraid of getting caught? Did he need to speak out to someone to relieve his stress?
As I was returning to my room on my bike, I became less and less confident. I didn’t think I was going to get my money back.
But fifty thousand rupees is no small amount for me. I had to chase him. Keep chasing him. No alternative. What if his cheating got exposed? I had no clue.
Selvadurai was the manager of Superstrong Castings Co., a small-scale industry in the Villivakkam Industrial Estate. He had taken charge about eight months ago. He was not a technical person but had a background in sales. The company was owned by his friend, who appointed him specifically to get more orders and streamline administration.
The company already had a couple of old foremen, both over sixty, who knew the nitty-gritty of making Grade-20 castings from their Cupola. They had been doing it for years. So, Selvadurai, a commerce graduate, extremely good at talking and impressing others with his manners and personality, was chosen to handle non-technical matters. His job was to turn the company from losses to profits. Getting more orders and delivering them on time was his prime task.
I came to know Selvadurai as a supplier of foundry materials to their company. I was drawn to his style, his sweet talk. We soon became friends. He was thirty-five and married. His family lived in their native place near Thanjavur, while he stayed alone in a lodge at Villivakkam.
I was thirty-two and a bachelor. We used to meet on weekends, go to the cinema, and talk about Tamil literature and poetry. We had many common interests.
And then, he borrowed money from me!
My fears turned out to be true. My sister’s marriage happened without my contributing any significant sum, and my parents were quite unhappy about it. I was out of station for several weeks, having fallen sick at my native place. I was bedridden after the wedding.
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“Selvadurai? That fraud who stayed in Room No. 103? He absconded last week. He hasn’t paid rent for the past two months. Who are you?” said the lodge manager when I went to meet him to inquire about Selvadurai.
I was hell-bent on finding him. I wanted my money back by some means—or at least to slap him across the face with my chappal.
With the help of a contact, I went to meet the General Manager of Auto Parts Limited, to whom Selvadurai’s company had been supplying castings.
“Sir, I came basically to inquire about Mr. Selvadurai. He owes me a lot of money and had promised to pay me once he got payment from your company…” I explained to him our friendship and how I couldn’t locate him at the lodge.
The General Manager was thankfully a nice person. He said, “Sorry to hear your story. But we’re in a much worse situation because of that rascal. We’ve blacklisted his company, and the owner has already sacked him. Do you know the extent of the damage he did to our company? I’ll tell you…”
He went on to narrate his side of the story, parts of which I had already heard from the drunken mouth of Selvadurai.
Selvadurai’s foundry was usually supplying only Grade-20 cast iron parts. Then came the requirement for higher-quality Grade-30 castings for some new components. Selvadurai spoke beautifully about how his firm was modernising and ready to produce high-grade castings. He submitted an attractive quotation that was cheaper than the competition.
Believing his words, they gave the order. But in reality, Selvadurai’s old foremen had no idea how to produce higher-grade castings, which required different alloying and processing methods.
They simply produced the new castings using the same Grade-20. Selvadurai bribed the quality inspectors, supplied the parts, and got the payment. But within two months, all the parts fitted in the car engines started failing. A thorough inquiry was conducted—and the cat was out of the bag!
________________________________________
Yesterday, I was on my bike at Thiruvanmiyur on personal work. Due to a traffic snarl, I had to drive slowly. That’s when I noticed Selvadurai standing at a bus stop. A woman stood close to him. It was his wife—I recognised her from the photo that once adorned his table at the lodge.
I parked my bike in front of a shop and rushed to the bus stop.
“Hello! What a surprise!” said Selvadurai on seeing me. He had thinned down considerably. I had never seen him with an unshaven face before.
Without exchanging pleasantries, I asked bluntly, “Where is my money?”
He was shocked. He had never seen me talk to him like this.
“Hey! I’m arranging it. Don’t worry. I’ll personally bring it to you. Just give me two more weeks. Please be patient. By the way, this is my wife,” he said, pointing to her.
She looked confused. With hesitation, she joined her palms in greeting.
I bent down, removed one shoe, and took it in my hand. Many people at the bus stop began watching curiously.
I said, “I had made a vow to beat you with my shoe the moment I saw you. You’re lucky today because your wife is with you. I don’t want to humiliate you in front of her. Keep that money. Take it as alms from me—to an unworthy cheater and a former friend.”
I put my shoe back on, turned, and walked away.
I felt truly happy. I had delivered some form of justice—a small compensation for the loss of money.
-=()=-
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