It is said that when Lucy’s great-grandfather Cheriyan took his life at the age of forty-five, the only thing left behind was massive debt.
Zacharia was fifteen years old then – a scrawny chap with an unpleasant smile. His older brothers, overwhelmed by newfound responsibilities, escaped to Bombay, abandoning their mother and younger sister to fend off local predators. When the thugs arrived, claiming they had lent money to Cheriyan and taunting that Zacharia’s mother and sister could repay the debt with their bodies, the teenager dropped off school early to find employment.
His first job was assisting a local fish merchant in Chambakkara Market. He unloaded the fish from the boats and displayed them in the open stand, bellowing with gusto: “Meene venno, Meen. Fresh fish. Best fish. Ayilla Matti, Chura. Meene venno Meene.” When someone made a purchase, he expertly gutted the fish, removed its entrails and chopped it into curry-sized portions, ultimately wrapping them in banyan leaves.
During those years, he woke up before dawn and returned home only after midnight, labouring until he collapsed without ever complaining. Within a few years, on his eighteenth birthday, the boy who had once been deemed useless opened a seafood wholesale shop with the help of his employer.
A small board was soon put up: Palathikal Seafood Co. Seven decades later, the boy had amassed a fortune greater than the former rulers of Cochin. In addition to owning hundreds of fishing vessels throughout the Arabian Sea, he also possessed a multitude of seafood restaurants and resorts. There was also the textile import business from Europe and the Middle East, a food processing company called Ilachi and a film studio in Madras. The list had no end. But out of all his gems, the one that stood out the most was the Daily Malayalam, a newspaper agency that became a staple for thirty-four million Malayalees since the 1960s. It was rumoured that in his prime Zacharia held considerable sway in Kerala politics and had a monopoly in publishing.
But nobody, not even his mother, was aware of how his circumstances transformed so dramatically – how an individual who had scarcely completed high school ascended to the position of CEO of an empire.
Some who witnessed his rise tried to spread rumours that he was involved with narcotics – that Zacharia had connections with the mafia and helped them import contraband through Kochi port. Others believed he had delved into durmathravadam (witchcraft) and paid obeisance to a kuttichattan (devil), a very prevalent practice that survived generations in Kerala.
But those who were close to him believed the man possessed a sharp knack for trade. They held him in high esteem as a savvy entrepreneur who fearlessly fought for the rights of the common man. Despite the conflicting notion of who he was, everyone agreed that Zacharia had an extraordinary talent to foresee the future. It was like he had a fortune teller’s crystal ball and knew how to use it.
After the birth of his three children from a late marriage, Zacharia slowly began to reside in the comforts of his home. He kept a firm grip on his companies and local politics but spent most of his time mentoring his younger ones to take over his empire.
His oldest son, George, was smart and cunning, ruthless in his endeavours even as a teenager. And for that, his father treated him differently and gave him responsibilities early in life. In business, Zacharia knew, it is only people like George who survive.
His only daughter, Elza, had her own ways of making sure she emerged victorious in every game she played. She knew how people worked and used it to her advantage. Determined and driven, she pursued her desires relentlessly.
And though Zacharia tried to see all his children as equals, like all other parents he had a favourite – his youngest son, David, the kindest of them all.
When both his elder siblings were sent abroad for studies, David was kept at a hand’s distance. It might be this sort of kind nature that led him to marry early and eventually produce the first heir to the family, Lucy. Ever since then, Lucy had been in Zacharia’s thoughts. His first granddaughter, his favourite, the one he truly cared about. Though everyone enjoyed David and his wife’s soothing company, fate had another plan for them. Their untimely death was a blow to the family. Zacharia was never the same after that.
In his old age, Zacharia often communicated with others in a cryptic tone. He mentioned many times that he could talk to the dead and could hear other people’s thoughts. Many, including his children, took it as a sign of the old man losing his mind, blaming it on the Alzheimer’s that nibbled on his brain cells.
Hours before his death, the old man revealed to his lawyer that his last will was not just a transfer of wealth but also a message from the dead to the ones who still roam in this world. And its reasons would only be revealed in time.
Excerpted with permission from Lucy and the Djinn, Pranoy Mathew, Westland.
