Kanakadhara

Tirumalai was leading a humdrum life working as an accountant in a private company. With a small salary that was barely enough for his family of wife, two children and an old mother to take care of. The month ends were a struggle to make ends meet. His mother fell sick frequently due to bouts of asthma needing immediate medical attention. The quarterly school fees and the extra expenditure on festive occasions were two things he dreaded most. He was a pious and honest man given to no vices. God-fearing man, he did his daily puja twice in the morning and evening, praying for greater financial comfort.

He remembered one incident often told by his mother in his younger days about how Adi Sankara invoked the blessings of Maha Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, for a poor woman who had nothing to give him as alms except a dry gooseberry fruit and how the Goddess showered gold on listening to his Kanakadhara Stotram. Little wonder, he chanted this sloka daily with devotion but to no effect so far.

When his wife reminded him about the due date within a week for the school fees, he kept quiet. though seething within, with anger and disappointment at the total indifference of Goddess to his intense pleas for improving his financial circumstances. He decided in frustration that day would be the last one for his daily prayer to Goddess if She did not pay heed to his prayers. He arranged things in the puja room mechanically, lighted the lamps and decked the idols with flowers. His mind was not calm but perturbed at his inability to increase his income.

As he sat for the prayer, his wife was busy in the kitchen, the children readying themselves for school and the maid swiping the floor. He commenced his prayers by reciting Kanakadhara Stotram instead of reserving for the end as he did usually and did not say the other prayers. Instead, he looked at the Goddess's picture and complained as if She was standing before him,” I have been praying for years sincerely with sincere hope you would come to my succour as you are known to be compassionate. But there is no sign of your having heard my prayer. You have been indifferent to my struggles. Where else can I go to get my grievance sorted out? I have lost all hope in you and decided to stop asking you anymore if you do not help me here and now,”

He closed his eyes not knowing what else to do. The minutes trickled past with nothing happening. As he got up in disappointment and anger, he smelt the heightened fragrance of incense, the tolling of the bell on its own and the increasing brightness of the oil lamps. A thrill passed through his spine as he looked up at the picture to witness in disbelief a shower of shining gold blocks in the shapes of small cubes, spheres and circular coins on the brass plate with flowers and Tulsi leaves. It stopped within a few seconds leaving a small pile already. His wife, children and the maid were standing outside the puja room patting their cheeks with their palms.

He eyed the plate with greedy eyes and clasped it close to his chest even as he triumphantly looked at his wife and children. But they, overtaken by the suddenness of the miracle, were seen prostrating before the Goddess in gratitude for the immense unexpected blessing. Soon they picked three pieces from the plate to feel the rare gift.

The ungrateful Tirumalai, who was gloating and jumping over the successful outcome of his threat to stop the puja, forgot to fall at the divine mother’s feet. Outraged at his despicable behaviour, his wife admonished him for his lack of grace and gratitude even as she rushed back to the kitchen. The children too withdrew quietly leaving him alone in the silence that ensued.

He sat on the floor and started counting the number of pieces. He left the plate before the Goddess in the puja room and started thinking about what to do with the newly acquired wealth till his wife called him for breakfast. As they were eating, the maid screamed,” Amma please come here at once to the puja room.”

All of them rushed to see the gold pieces on the brass plate had turned black like charcoal. Tirumalai took one and found it light. It broke into two pieces when he applied pressure and left a black line when scratched on the floor. He was crestfallen and hit his head with his hands cursing himself. “It serves me right, the wretch I am, doomed to poverty.”

When his wife looked at her children meaningfully, they drew the three pieces each from their pockets to see them sparkling in golden colour and were seen beaming in joy.