That was the state of things when Khader and Janab Abdul Aziz became acquainted with each other. It started when Aziz visited Khader’s store to buy clothes. He was very impressed with Khader’s business acumen and how he conducted himself. In due course, it became a habit for him to head over to Khader’s shop whenever he was not busy. On one occasion, Khader asked to borrow some money to clear a waybill from the bank, since he was short of cash. Aziz helped him because he trusted him as a fellow Muslim. On another occasion, when Khader sent for money again and promised to return it in two months, Aziz sent the amount without expressing his misgivings. Khader immediately sent him a signed promissory note attesting to one percent interest. Aziz was very pleased with that. Exactly sixty days later, he got the initial amount plus interest. There were a few more transactions like this, and soon, lending and borrowing became a formal business transaction between them. When he received the principal and the interest on the due date, Aziz would roar with laughter and say, before locking away the money in the safe, “My, my! Never even a day late, huh? Let me make a note of it!”

On this return home to Kalakkad every week, Aziz could not stop talking about Khader to his wife. His wife perfectly understood the intentions behind this—Aziz wanted Khader for a son-in-law—but yet she wondered if Khader was truly as handsome as her husband made him out to be.

One evening at dusk, Khader came to Aziz’s store in a hurry.

“Uncle, I have come to discuss a business idea with you,” he said.

Representatives from the Bombay Quality Tobacco Company had arrived in town that day. The main objective for their visit was to appoint a local agent for their product. A lot of interested people were already beginning to swarm around them. Khader urged Aziz to try and secure the agency.

“Good God! I am not up to it at all,” Aziz said immediately.

“Uncle, please don’t drag your feet on this. Such lucky breaks don’t come around often. You just need to put in two years of hard work. Then the money will start pouring in.”

“I cannot deal with all the hassles, not at my age. I’ll have to do all the advertising. I’ll have to go store to store, begging for business. I’ll have to hire sub-agents. I’ll have to rent a warehouse. Then these guys will pay visits to check the stock, and I’ll have to fawn over them endlessly. No way. Too much hassle.”

“Uncle, I tell you, this is a good product. If we find the right market for it, it will sell itself. Over in Malabar, they don’t smoke anything but Camels . . .”