The story continues.......( Read the First Part here )
I finished my work by 3.30 pm, had a late lunch. Despite the assurances from the family, I had no hope of Natarajan turning up at my Hotel. Since Palani Temple was only 20 kms away, I decided to drive down in the evening.
Just as I was leaving the Hotel, Natarajan turned up and his appearance belied all my expectations. I was expecting a tired, weather beaten guy in old clothes, based on my impression about his house. But Natarajan turned out to be spotlessly dressed, ironed shirt and pant, looking very fresh, with a sandalwood tilak on his forehead, a honest face with an innocent smile and exuded confidence. He was just about my age. I took an instant liking for him.
I was in a bit of dilemma. I had come to Udumalpet with the express purpose of meeting him, but in my heart was sad the opportunity to have a darshan of Lord Murugan of Palani was slipping by.
Natarajan took the decision out of my hands and calmly said "Come Sir, let us go to Palani and talk on the way. I could also do with a bit of divine intervention".
We drove to Palani, and while I suggested the Winch to go up, he insisted we walk up the flight of 700 odd steps, claiming it was a good experience and one should not take the easier way of reaching the God. He wanted to do it the hard way. I could sense a very intelligent and sharp mind beside me.
Then he told his story.............................................
Obviously he had an extremely tough childhood, and had to struggle for even buying books. He braved all of it and finished his Diploma in Mechanical Engineering, the first to pass out from his Cheri. Add to that he got a Supervisors job in the Public Sector Undertaking Bharath Heavy Electricals Limited (BHEL) in Trichy at a princely salary of Rs. 1,700. Please remember that as a MBA (and MBAs were rare those days), working in HPCL as Sales Officer, my salary was just around Rs 3,000.
His life was happy. His uncle had promised to marry his daughter to Natarajan, which is a local custom, and she was his childhood sweetheart.
He, of course belonged to the Scheduled Caste Category. Two years ago, in 1987, a forward caste Gounder Landlord (Gounders of Pollachi are Agriculturalists and Feudal Landlords, and very clannish) from Pollachi approached him and asked him to apply for the Dealership of HPCL in Oonjavalampatti to the Oil Selection Board.
Natarajan was reluctant. His life was smooth. He had a nice job, with iron clad job security. His fiancé was waiting. He was adored by his people for being a success. He had just cleared all his family loans and could think of doing something for his family.
The then HPCL Sales Officer, an old man nearing Retirement Age, who was close to the Gounder promised all help and convinced him to apply, assuring all help. Natarajan pleaded that he had no financial background, and as he understood, operating the Dealership involved raising funds to the tune of Rs 2 lakhs apart from identifying a suitable land. But all his objections were brushed aside, and he was literally forced to send the application. In due course, he got the Dealership.
The Gounder had a land of his relative beside the highway which he finalized for him, and the Sales Officer took him to the local Bank, who had enough funds to fund him under the Social Objective Category Funding allotment. In any case, getting a Oil Dealership was considered to be a Gold Mine.
A pre-condition of getting the Dealership was that he had to resign his Public Sector Job, which he did. He took all the approvals for developing the Site, and HPCL installed the Dispensing unit with a 16 KL underground storage tank. Natarajan was sent for a perfunctory two-day Dealer Training program, which hardly prepared him to manage the outlet.
With the Bank arranged facility of Rs 1.5 lakhs, he took his first load of 12 KL, and started selling. The dealer is entitled for only Dealer commission those days. The price of Diesel was Rs 3.25, while his Commission was just around 2.5% amounting to Rs 0.08. He had to deposit the balance in the Bank so that the Bank can give him a DD for the next load of 12,000 litres.
He sold 2000 litres on Day 1. The Collection was Rs 6,750. From this, he was entitled only for Rs 150 as Commission. He was supposed to deposit Rs 6,600 back in the Bank. This was, if the Sales held, he would have made around Rs 4,500 per month as Dealer Commission, which should cover his Rent for the land, Bank Charges, Loan Repayment, Salary for Staff, Electricity Charges etc. At best he would have been left with about Rs 1000 at the end of the month for himself. Even that was a stretch.
NO ONE TAUGHT HIM THIS.
Or rather, if they told him this at the Dealer Training Program, they didn't stress much on its importance. Neither did the Sales Officer, who was supposed to be his mentor. His objective was to commission the Retail Outlet and then make a visit once a month or so, have a cup of coffee, chit chat and leave.
The first days collection was around 6,750, as I said before. His family members all came to see him at the Retail outlet. His father, a poor cobbler, had not even seen a Rs 100 note in his life. He was earning Rs 5-7 per day. His mother had unlimited needs. All his relatives were poor.
First his father had a look at the cash counter and his eyes opened wide at seeing all the money. He helped himself to Rs 100. Then his mother took Rs 200. Like that everyone took various denominations.
This continued for a few weeks. Natarajan didn't realize that his Capital was being taken away. And suddenly Natarajan found that he was short of the amount needed to order 12,000 litres of Diesel and the outlet had to be closed for want of stock.
The Sales Officer came down, scolded him, spoke to the Bank and arranged additional funds. The Gounder knew this would happen, and was waiting in the wings like a scavenger, ready to scoop. He had all the money and he knew the business. The Outlet was situated in the Gounder dominated area, where they were very powerful and aggressive. He started putting additional pressure on Natarajan for the rent of the land and asked him to return the money he had loaned to cover pre-operative expenses. In the meanwhile the leakage continued, as the demands from family members increased. The Sales Officer or the Regional Manager failed to identify the root cause.
Natarajan slipped further and further into a debt trap. The Gounder started threatening him and demanded he enter into an agreement with him for selling the Dealership (which was illegal) to Gounder in return for waiving the meager amount of money he had spent as pre-operative expense and rental arrears.
Sales Officer refused to interfere and left Natarajan high and dry. He also started threatening him of him losing the dealership, if he doesn't reopen the outlet.
The Bank was worried and sent notices after notices.
His family turned hostile. His Uncle closed the door on him.
The final straw was when his Uncle decided to marry his fiancé to another person.
Natarajan lost everything - A good job, his fiancé, his standing in the society, was in a debt trap and was totally broken.
He went into hiding and had no clue as to how to solve the situation.
We reached the Top of Palani Hills.
And prayed hard, for even I didn't have a clue as to how to solve this mess. Neither did he.
P.S: I talked to the Bank to restructure the loan. But had to tackle the issue of the Gounder's threat of physical harm to Natarajan if he entered the premises. I tried negotiating with the Gounder through my other Dealers. But no go. My Superiors washed their hands off, saying it is my head ache, for they did not have any solutions. Natarjan met me many times after that hanging on to his slim hope. I was young, and tried my best, but was against too many obstacles. His trips to my house became less and less, then stopped completely. The Outlet remained closed. Every time I drove by it, there was a pang in my heart. A sense of helplessness and failure. It is almost 3 decades since this happened. Recently when I enquired about that Outlet, I was told it doesn't exist anymore. A tear came down my eyes. A tear for the simple, nice guy. A tear for a guy who didn't deserve what he got.
