Shadows of Wealth

By Pramila U. Dugel

This book takes us on a journey reliving the lifetime of one wealthy, unique spiritual family who devotedly raised their intelligent and good looking son and daughter only to eventually discover that their wealth and their parenting skills could not guarantee their desired goals for success for their children. Wealth can be used to purchase all of the luxuries in life with, but it cannot procure the desired positive personality characteristics which parents would want to bestow on their children. Additionally wealth cannot protect their children from making wrong choices or shelter them from the consequences of wrong choices which they have made along lifes road. Money and fortune as this family discovered can only be used to establish status in the community and provide the ability to afford luxuries.
The lessons learned while reading this near true to life story should eventually be shared with movie goers throughout the world so that parents could receive a glimpse of insight into what their highest priorities should be as they experience their own family life. This story is riveting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524513115

Pramila U. Dugel

Pramila U. Dugel, second time author, is originally from Nepal and was educated in Darjeeling, India. After receiving her Cambridge University Overseas certificate, she graduated with a bachelor degree in Kathmandu. She taught in International Schools in Vienna, Austria, New York, USA, and Beijing, China. As Principal of a private school in Long Beach, CA for nine years, she resigned in 2003 to pursue her dream to be an author. She established the first Kindergarten in Kathmandu, she has given teachers workshops, written educational articles (Macmillan) and has lectured in educational forums. Extensive travel allowed her the opportunity to meet people of various races, religions and cultures. With compassion and sincere interest, she has written this fiction about those who are marginalized and dejected. Could this really happen? The reader can decide.

Book preview

KAPOOR JEWELRY SHOP

Anish Kapoor was the sole owner of the Kapoor Jewelry Shop, which stood prominent in the heart of Mumbai’s market promenade. This magnificent shop was an eye-catcher. Several rooms decorated with bright lights displayed fine exotic jewelry of different patterns, sizes, and shapes. Shining yellow gold sparkled in the bright lights. Genuine precious stones of various hues awed the eyes of many shoppers. Some visited to purchase jewelry, whereas others walked in just to admire the beautifully displayed unaffordable items. Bollywood movie stars and rich Indians were constantly in and out with large sums, purchasing jewelry for themselves and their relatives. Weddings and other functions required they oblige in giving and receiving jewelry, as was their custom.

Hidden behind this opulent structure were spacious rooms equipped with multiple machines for the skillful craftsmen. They worked busily to accommodate their clientele’s requests. Jewelry ordered for weddings and other festivals was expected to be ready on time. The craftsmen’s quality of work was highly admired. Furthermore, Anish’s honesty and integrity were unquestionable. It was recognized as the most prestigious jewelry shop owned by an honorable man in Mumbai.

To support his family, Anish’s grandfather had opened a pawnshop. Known for his honesty and kindness, the business flourished. When Anish’s father took over, he converted it to a regular jewelry shop. He became a wealthy man. Recognized as an eminent social personality of the community, he was respected for his honest dealings and goodwill. This well-reputed shop now belonged to Anish. As a young man working in his father’s shop, he learned how to manage a successful business. His father grilled him on being honest and compassionate toward his clients.

First, respect your clientele. Build their trust. Money will follow, his father often reminded him.

Anish was not much of a socialite. He preferred to be home with family. He did not donate to political parties, though they tried to encourage him. His philanthropic contributions to charity organizations were of prime importance. Seldom did he appear in person for their special events. In spite of his family’s good fortune, he had deep concern for his son, Bobby. He adamantly disapproved of his son’s obnoxious behavior. Why was he the way he was? Did his wealth carry a curse? Was it the result of some misdeed of the past? Or was it just his karma? When not concentrating on business issues, his mind automatically flashed back to those unanswered questions gnawing at him mentally.

BOBBY KAPOOR

Bobby was a charismatic twenty-one-year-old, with a wide forehead, bright black eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. A few facial hairs were noticeable. With a ready comb in his pocket, he often swaggered and whistled while combing his sleek black hair. Exceptionally handsome, he easily won people’s hearts to manipulate the situation to suit him. He constantly sought attention, aware of his good looks and his father’s insurmountable wealth. His inflated ego encouraged him to investigate the possibility of becoming a Bollywood star. This was his ultimate goal, but never did he discuss his plans with his parents.

Having been in college for two years now, their wayward son’s behavior had not changed. His prominent personality dominated a few of his classmates. Some of his colleagues idolized him. The women in his class thought he was remarkably handsome; however, his arrogant manner perturbed them. They believed his disposition to be a show of egoism, and therefore, they were not lured to accept his sincerity. Defiant and pursuant, he tried to convince them he was the only brave person who could challenge and criticize authority on their behalf. Nevertheless, some staunch friends admired his flippant style, accepting him as their role model.

At home, his parents were at their wits’ end. Any amount of advice or cajoling fell on deaf ears. Instead, he smirked at them while pretending to listen.

Bobby, you are a man whose life is off track. You are playing a losing game. Being born into wealth and with various privileges does not permit you to be bellicose, repulsive, and insensitive toward others. Wealth will not save you, scolded his father.

He snapped back, Why are some people so cynical toward me? With good grades and good friends and as an adult, I want to be left alone.

Your arrogance and inconsideration of others has distinguished you as a troublemaker. One of your professors has brought this to my attention. Change your ways, warned his father.

Upon hearing his father’s comment, his hostility toward his parents became overcharged. Reluctant to discuss any further, aggressively he slammed the door and left the room.

No matter what we say, it’s like water running down a duck’s back. The duck never feels wet. It continues swimming, said Anish in dismay.

Shoba, their eighteen-year-old daughter, was very different from her brother. She loved and respected her parents. Born with a cleft lip and having had plastic surgery, she was very conscious of the revealing dark scar that ran from her nose down to her mouth. She covered it with her hands when conversing, leaving some of her words difficult to decipher. Short and plump, she walked with a thump. There was nothing attractive about her appearance in comparison to her handsome older brother. Aware of her noticeable weakness, she remained passive and shy.

In college, friends admired her amicable and compassionate manner. Never did she disclose her family’s wealth or her brother’s obnoxious manners. She respected authority by following all mandated college rules. The consequences of being in the same school with her brother and witnessing his repulsive behavior had taken its toll on her. His incessant rude antics and irate temperament saddened her. Without any apathy for him, she delighted in being on her own.

It was a different story at home. As much as she pretended otherwise, Shoba was fully aware of the numerous reprimands her parents gave her brother. In such a situation, hurriedly she would run into her room to avoid hearing loud outbursts of rage from both sides. Why was Bobby this way? Would he ever change? Was something in his genes making him an obnoxious person? Silently, she grappled with these unanswered thoughts.

The Kapoor household had a retinue of servants, each designated with specific duties. Their domestic staff was well treated and much appreciated. Servants remained in their service for years. When unable to serve due to old age or illness, they received generous monetary remunerations. Invariably, a servant leaving would bring a relative or friend to replace him or her. The household staff loved and respected their employers, the Kapoors.

Considerate toward the servants, Shoba never complained about a personality defect regarding any of them. Not so with Bobby. His attitude was one of a monarch who deliberately humiliated and scorned them if his orders were not followed. Each was expected to be ready at his beck and call or else suffer his vehement temper. The smallest infraction triggered his uncontrollable anger. Several incidents had occurred already. Although his parents repeatedly reminded him of his despicable actions and rhetoric, he ignored them disdainfully.

They are servants, and this is how they need to be treated if they do not perform effectively. It is a job like any other, he brashly responded when reprimanded by his parents.

Disgusted and weary of their son’s constant challenges and indignant ways, the parents remained disheartened.

One afternoon, Bobby requested tea and snacks from Bhopal, the cook. Bhopal, I want it right away, he demanded.

The servants addressed him as Chota Sahib (little sir).

Chota Sahib, it will take a few minutes for the water to boil. I will bring it fast, replied Bhopal, fully aware of his Chota Sahib’s abusive outbursts.

Within five minutes, Bobby stomped his feet loudly and ranted curse words at Bhopal for the delay.

Lata, his mother, approached the kitchen. Hearing her son’s condemnation of the cook, she became irate. Immediately, she pulled Bobby by his shirt, dragging him into his room.

How dare you speak to Bhopal in this manner? Why did you jeer and degrade him? Water takes time to boil. Did you know that? These are our loyal servants. Our family is blessed to have them. We treat them with respect. Your father and I have unequivocally made it clear to you that our domestic staff is part of our family. Have you once heard your sister verbally abuse or reprimand any servants? Your obnoxious attitude puts us to shame. Bobby Kapoor, change your ways, yelled his mother.

Her stone-faced son, filled with animosity, glared hard at her without response. Soon there was a knock on the door. Lata reluctantly opened the door. Bhopal carried in the tea and snacks.

Chota Sahib, where should I put the tray? he asked.

Ignoring the cook’s question, Bobby kicked the door forcefully and stormed out of the house.

BOBBY’S INDULGENCE

Their wayward son’s behavior did not change. Rich and handsome with a flashy car, he deliberately antagonized his classmates, bragging about himself and his tremendous wealth. Some were cognizant of his pretentious behavior, but others were smitten. Emboldened by him and in compliance with his provocative intentions, they encouraged him with compliments. His inappropriate attitude was brought to the attention of the college staff, but they could do nothing about it. His good grades, coupled with his charming personality, once again manipulated the situation and caused them to disbelieve the report.

Bobby had three loyal friends. They consented to whatever he asked of them. Every evening, in his flashy car, he rode around with them, loudly honking and yelling derogatory words at pedestrians. Young women going about their business were verbally harassed. Shopkeepers were shocked to see and hear such insolent young men. Who were they? they wondered. Word around the marketplace spread like wildfire. They were furious to learn that the instigator and owner of the car was a rich man’s son. They did not know his name.

Whizzing around town, the gang of four daily visited an old, murky tea room. This became their hideout.

The teashop catered to poor laborers. At first, the surprised owner wondered who these well-attired young men might be. He withheld any questions and felt rather honored to have them as customers. Each day, he noticed the presence of a poorly clad young man at a table, waiting for the rest of them. Undoubtedly, the gang approached his table, starting a conversation with him. While sipping hot tea, they spoke almost in whispers. As the tea cooled down, their voices grew loud and incoherent. The owner became suspicious.

One evening, he offered them special tea and snacks. They were delighted. Back and forth he moved, serving them. A peculiar smell emanated from the assembly of these young men. The air in the room filled with smoke. Right away, the owner realized it was the smell of hashish. Were this to alert other customers, he would be in trouble. The teashop was his livelihood.

Sahibs, please leave my shop. I will be in trouble with the law enforcement officials. You are smoking hashish, politely requested the owner.

Reluctant and defiant, they ignored him while the poorly clad man spoke. How dare you accuse us without any proof?

The smell in the air is proof. Soon my customers will complain. Are you the supplier? the owner asked suspiciously, turning toward the poorly clad man.

They continued to be adamant and would not leave. The teashop door flung open. Two men entered, looking around. Seeing the owner in argument with the young men, they stood to observe. Immediately, the pungent smell infiltrated their nostrils, causing them to repeatedly sneeze.

Where did this hashish come from? inquired one of the men.

No response. The other pulled the poorly clad man from his chair close to himself and smelled him.

This man is the supplier, he confidently declared.

Although dressed in plain clothes, they immediately withdrew their police badges, identifying themselves as officers.

Haughtily, Bobby spoke out, These alleged policemen cannot intimidate us. This is an intrusion of our freedom in a private area. We must not submit.

Looking around, he moved toward them and, in a hostile manner, continued, Do you know who I am?

Yes, you must be a son of some rich man who flaunts his wealth and ignores the law, responded one officer with a smirk on his face.