Varalotti Goes Abroad - Part 1 (With Pictures)

I had been to Bali, Jakarta and Langkawi recently. To some it might appear heartless that I chose to travel for pleasure within days after my father’s death. And that too I did it all alone. If you have an hour of free time let me know. I’ll explain the reasons.

My father travelled with me – as a memory, as a dream and many times as a presence.

When I was ushered into the immigration counter of Trichy Airport around midnight I saw the official closing his eyes for a silent prayer. I was aware that I was his first ‘case’.

“May you have a hassle-free working day.” - I joined in his prayers.

He looked up surprised. Then he went through my immigration form. When he read my qualification (I had just written ‘chartered accountant’) he looked up again this time a tad reverential.

“Have you come to India for a holiday?”

“No, Sir. India is my home. I am going out for a holiday.”

“You can go anywhere you want, Sir. Do you know a King is welcome only in his own country. But learned people like you are welcome everywhere. Have a nice journey and come back safe.”

Strangely I was in tears. I knew very well that the two words “chartered accountant” appearing in my immigration form had made him so eloquent.

But for my father’s sacrifice – of making me refuse a bank officer’s job when our family was in dire need – I could never have become a professional.

The currency of Indonesia is Rupiah. It trades at ridiculously low prices. An Indian Rupee would get you around 168 Rupiah. And a dollar around 9000 Rupiah.

The present price-levels are relics of the hyper-inflation the country had a few years ago. Once we had to pay a taxi fare of 2,00,000 Rupiah to get back to our hotel.

The airport tax is 1,50,000 Rupiah. A cup of tea costs 15,000 Rupiah. I was chatting up with the security guard of a hotel who said that his salary was Eight lakhs Rupiah and that he could not even fend for himself with that poor salary.

Once I exchanged a few dollars and the currency trader loaded me with close to 1.3 million Rupiah.

My accountant’s mind made a swift calculation. If only the 2G spectrum scam happened in Indonesia the amount involved will be a cool 295,680,000,000,000 Rupiah or 295.68 Trillion Rupiah.

All these mind boggling figures lead to a simple yet profound deduction. That money is nothing but a fiction of your imagination.

The value you give to money is only an attributed value and not a real value. You need to know the value of money to find out the price of anything. But money cannot help you find out the value of anything.

I am not against money. Nor am I advocating a life without money. Money may not give you happiness but at least it makes your miseries bearable.

And you have a choice with money. If you are miserable you can choose to be so in Paris or Amsterdam. Poor people in misery do not have that kind of a choice.

What I am saying is that money is not wealth but just a symbol of wealth. You can buy food with your money. Only then money becomes real wealth.

In other words money is at best a gift coupon with universal validity. You can’t eat money. Money is a symbol in as much a picture or a stone image is a symbol of god. Money is a map and not a territory.

Three days before my father’s death I took him for a long ride in my car.

As we were passing through a hotel my Dad told me, “You know something? I now long for hotel food. Do you remember the days we used to go out for eating? It’s aeons since you took me to a hotel.”

I felt a distinct pain in my heart. My father had diabetes. His creatinine levels were very high. Sugar and salt were strictly forbidden. How could I take him to a hotel?

“You know something? I now long for hotel food.”

The words were killing me. If only I had known that he was going to die three days later I would have taken him to the hotel on that day.

As a typical accountant I opted for a compromise.

“Dad, my friend runs a hotel. I can ask him to cook special food for you without sugar and salt”

“If there’s no salt in the food what’s the point in going to a hotel? Your mother’s cooking is good enough. Why don’t you ask the Doctor to just let me eat once in a hotel?”

My father had three sons and a daughter. If his children pooled their resources then they could have even bought a hotel for him.

And yet with all the money we had we could not buy him the food he so badly wanted during his last days.

That’s money for you. Not real wealth, but capable of becoming real wealth only when you can otherwise enjoy it.

Money is just a number. The number 2 or number 5 does not mean a thing, unless it is associated with something else. 2 oranges. 5 apples.

And as a number it can be funny and fantastic. Two lakhs for a taxi ride. Four lakhs for a dinner. And 15,000 for a cup of tea.

This should teach us to adopt the right attitude towards money.

Let’s not hoard money as if we are going to live for ever.

Nor shall we throw it away as if we are going to die tomorrow. Somewhere in between lies the right approach.