Even after being dismissed from his position at the mosque, his father spent most of his days there in meditation, and Khader remembered how, every time his annoyed mother sent him as a little boy to fetch his father at mealtimes, the man could not tear himself away from the spot.

Long after, when Khader had grown up, amassed a great deal of wealth, and earned the reputation as the leading merchant in the entire district, he still felt very emotional whenever he spoke of his childhood to his friends and invariably ended up calling his father all sorts of names. “That bastard never held me in his arms, not once!” he often said. And he laughed when he described what his mother used to call his father: “That mosque owl!” “The poor woman,” he said. “She never got to enjoy life in any way. I ran away from home at eleven, because I was resolved I would make something of myself and give her all that she desired. But she died before I could make enough money.”

Even at a very young age, Khader learned one of life’s essential truths. He understood that the god of money was the most powerful of all gods, and that even in those aspects of life that had nothing to do with money, the power of money still prevailed. He could sense this logic, this reign of money, behind the way everyone in town laughed at his father but praised the piety of a man like P. V. Mudalali, a local businessman. But the most instructive lesson he got about the meaning of money was when he found himself infatuated with a woman at the temple float festival. The young woman’s mother was all too ready to send her to his room for fifty rupees and even bolted the door on the outside. The two were out of their clothes in no time, which then lay crumpled in a corner of the room. The experience made him realize that once he had the power of money on his side, things would simply come to him, or he could always buy them for a price.

He dreamed about a bungalow, a car, a tea estate, chicken to eat every day, nothing but silk shirts to wear, a gold chain, a watch . . . He later added a beautiful woman to that list. A woman more beautiful than his mother . . . Would it come true? Why not? With Allah’s grace, every desire will be fulfilled. So many beautiful women in Mekkamandapam and Thiruvithamcode . . . How often had he glimpsed their beautiful feet under door curtains, their anklets jingling with every step? If he became rich, he could have one of those women. He truly believed that it would happen one day soon.