1 What is Money ?

Looking at the Matchbox cars in a shop window, I was as happy as possible. I would stand in front of toy stores, claiming to want to buy one. I was honestly just thinking that everything there might one day be mine. As a young and growing boy, I wandered in a dreamland where toy cars dominated the mind. When the sales lady questioned what I wanted, I would simply walk away, and while walking home from the store I kept thinking, "If I had the money."

 Being young and innocent was the happiest time to be born into a dream world. It didn't matter if I was told at the time that we were poor and didn't have enough money to buy those toys. I had no idea that daydreaming was free of charge. Music, arts, crafts, and woodworking drew me in, and I later realized that they are the foundation of human expression.

 Since I was in elementary school, children of the rich and famous have been a part of my life. Remember lunch breaks when many of my friends ate chocolate, sweets, and snacks? Those who couldn't afford the mouth-watering experiences, like me, were always the ones who wished they could.

 Many friends were afraid to share, so they avoided us during lunch breaks. As a reward, I would sometimes barter my skills for a piece of chocolate or carry their school bags home. It has always worked. The children of the wealthy were sluggish and lethargic. They owned everything money could buy. I was a mediocre student, a daydreamer, and a child with many fantasies. The concept of money was also introduced with the introduction of education.

 Attending school was also intended for school vacations. The rich neighbor’s daughter used to visit our small town during the holidays. She was about my age, and I enjoyed her company. She came from a wealthy family and went from a big city.

 I used to admire her red lipstick, red painted nails, and small heel shoes while playing hide and seek. Yes, she was stunning.

 I sat occasionally to hear about fashion and the city's delights. Much of it was like a fairy tale that stimulated my imagination. At that age, I realized beauty and pleasure were also linked to money.

 We grew to like each other as we got older. We always wished to see each other and looked forward to the school holidays. We talked about birds and bees, and I would run around the fields catching butterflies to show my appreciation for her friendship.

 She was wealthy and attractive, and I had to be the rough village boy with tattered clothes and a cheerful smile to win her. Her parents frequently did not approve of our friendship since they saw me as a laborer's kid. Money has no bearing on love, whether it is wealthy or not. My grades were suffering because all I could think about was playing and fantasizing.

 The imaginary world was ending as I was barely over my ninth birthday. Even though those days were short-lived, memories remain. As I approached adolescence, my desire to own money grew. Growing up in a family of six brothers and a sister was neither exciting nor rewarding. I had several siblings as well as some elders. It is always the case that one brother or sister is successful and the other is neglected because of sibling rivalry. The elders were given priority in the distribution of household chores. As a willing participant, I was always given some work. Shining shoes, washing dishes, and helping Mom with laundry became routine tasks. Because of their illiteracy, parents blamed many things on the rich and poor. 

 When I was ten years old and found myself in one of those dream worlds, I asked myself, "Can I make money from nothing?" Is it just me, or am I living in a dream world? Childhood was the time when faeries, magic, and miracles were real, and it was only later that I realized faith was an assurance of things wished for. Then one day I decided to ask my grandmother. My grandmother worked as a farm laborer when she was younger. She was well-versed in vegetable gardening. She described a grueling day's work in the fields for the scarce money she had. The majority of the work was done in the spring when seedlings were planted in the rain, and that sounded thrilling. Harvesting and weeding in the summer heat saps one's energy and makes one want to sleep until the next morning. I was taught that money and intelligence were linked, and that physical endurance needed to be developed. One point she always emphasized was honesty. She mentioned how other field workers stole vegetables and fruits from farms and how she abstained because my grandfather was a man of principles and would never accept it.

 Knowing her I asked my grandmother one winter day while sitting near the fireplace if I could make money out of nothing. She answered positively with a "yes." My mom called just then, so I missed the conversation. That night as I slept, I reflected on her work in the fields and compared it to the nature studies we had done in school. I finally asked her how to produce seeds at the next available opportunity. Her response was straightforward: "from rotten fruits and vegetables." An innocent question followed, asking if one could make seeds from rotten tomatoes. "Yes," Granny said right away.

 Granny was a wise woman who taught values through simple folk tales. Knowledge leads to wisdom, and I had the privilege of having her as my mentor. The following story is one of them, and it inspired me.

 The tree of drumsticks

In a village tucked away in the fertile countryside of India, a successful farmer resided. He had two kids who could have been successful farmers given the property they owned, but who were sluggish and spoilt by their mother. The mother's brother dropped by on the spur of the moment. However, he was worried about the consequences and warned his sister about spoiling the children and making them lethargic and lazy.

 The farmer and his wife were elderly, and their deaths did not affect the two boys' sluggish lives. Both were married and spent their days doing nothing but neglecting the land, which was overgrown with weeds. The wealth was soon lost, but one drumstick tree, also known as the horseradish tree or Moringa, provided a daily harvest of fresh drumsticks.

 Their mother's brother was always concerned about the children's well-being and decided to visit them. The evening meal was prepared, and the elder brother sat with his maternal uncle, eager to observe a religious fast that day. The other brother came along but declined the food because he was not hungry. When the uncle noticed that the food was only enough for one person, he realized that poverty was knocking on the door of this once-famous farmer's family.

 He slept soundly all night but worried about his sister's sons. Then, early in the morning, he overheard the elder son conversing with a vegetable vendor. Under the full moonlight and profound silence, he noted the elder son replacing the vegetable with money from the hawker lady at the drumstick tree.

 After realizing that the drumstick tree was their father's only reliable source of income for the day, the uncle took an axe to the tree and chopped it down. This was before the brothers awoke.

 The brothers awoke with the rising sun, not seeing the uncle and saddened to see the drumstick tree had been cut down. The last source of income is lost, said the younger brother. He added with dismay that it is time to make preparations to prevent losing the house and land to poverty.

 Fearful, the two brothers worked hard to prepare the land for the coming rains and plant crops for the season. The brothers did not notice the passage of time because they were so preoccupied with their daily tasks. A bountiful harvest with a handsome return of money and food was granted.

 When the maternal uncle noticed the difference, he decided to meet with them again. When the brothers saw the uncle approaching the farm's entrance, they ran to greet him. With tears in their eyes, they expressed their gratitude to their uncle for felling the drumstick tree and demonstrating the value of hard work. That evening, everyone enjoyed a sumptuous feast, and they all lived happily ever after.

 A moral code of upliftment was finally mentioned to me by her. "Those who are lazy and lethargic become slaves, while those who work hard create opportunities."

 As a result of dedicated work and an instrument to combat poverty, my anticipated future became a reality. Stories shape history for people of all ages, leaving a lasting legacy that inspires future generations. I was a determined follower who had resolved to make a positive change.

 Legends tell a country's story; granny was born in India, so her thoughts were shaped into an imaginary or finite entity that represented our Sanatan Dharma. I was taught that we did not have a religion but Sanatan Dharma, which promotes the peaceful coexistence of all life on Earth.

 My father worked as a greengrocer, and I was always asked to assist him in the store. During the summer, many of the tomatoes rotted and were discarded. I started collecting rotten tomatoes and bringing them home. Granny would remove the rot and collect the tiny seeds that floated on the surface of the water. When it dried, she carefully stored it in a bottle. My first lesson was to begin planting seeds in the spring. Schoolwork was neglected, and my mind was absorbed in nature's greatest experiment. Many seeds had already sprouted by the middle of spring. My mother disliked them, but my father, an experienced businessman, suggested that we sell the seedlings at the greengrocer's on a wet day.

 I ventured out on the weekend to collect discarded milk cartons. They were cut up and the seedlings were transferred for easy merchandising. With good rains on the way, I walked to the shop after school and sold all of my seedlings. Anyone could now make money from nothing by using their imagination. I was convinced from that day forward that having nothing is not an obstacle in life.

 This achievement resulted in a few unfortunate outcomes. The money owed to me was never paid. The owner of the local food store had taken a portion of my money. He claimed that the tomatoes were his and had not been paid for. I also sold my seedlings on his property and wanted a cut of his famous business. I was completely devastated. He encouraged me to remember the lesson I learned and the fact that money was not the ultimate goal. 'Money is not everything in an achievement,' she wisely said. The end of the school year was quickly approaching and my fourth year of school was a disaster.

 My parents and brothers constantly verbally abuse me. They mocked me for trying to make money and for failing. To make matters worse, I was labeled "the family fool," and as retaliation, I was made to spend the holidays working in the greengrocer's store so that the rest of the family could go play. As a result, failure took on a scary image in my young mind.

 My affluent girlfriend had little interest in learning anything about me that holiday. Failure separated me from those I cared about. On Christmas Eve, the store was packed, and I was tasked with standing outside and selling the just-ripe peaches. I was in the shop with my father in the early morning, watching the sunrise. The stock was packed in bags and everything was ready to carry in. Customers began to infiltrate the business areas. In no time, I was surrounded by people. "Fresh sweet peaches, the cheapest in town, one shilling a bag," I screamed. And we were completely sold out. I kept collecting money until my pockets were empty. While I was selling those lovely peaches, I was surrounded by money, money, and more money. I was too young to understand its significance. The second lesson in making money was introduced to me through buying or selling.

 I was thrilled at the thought of getting rid of the whole supply. My mother woke me up the following morning after reminding me of my granny's childhood days of sleep, labor, and work, and I went asleep without opening my eyes. Yes, I can confidently say today that I never took a single penny for myself, in other words, stole the business's money. With so much grueling work and verbal abuse, my young body couldn't take it any longer and I became ill with a high fever.

 My Granny sat beside me, telling me more stories about her work and the resilience of the mind, body, and soul within us. When my father arrived that night, I recall her telling him about my abuse and neglect. Some abuse was stopped thanks to my grandmother's assistance, and my father was aware of what had occurred. He finally recognized my untapped potential. My parents were illiterate, impoverished, misguided, and burdened by day-to-day issues. In later realization, I became aware of a significant family disadvantage and the fact that no family member's aspirations can ever be fulfilled. Despite my desire to be someone, money began to play an influential role in my childhood.

 Education was very critical in our community and country because formal education was only available to white-skinned invaders or Europeans. Many children were studying abroad and learning more about their culture. The elders in our community advised my father, an uneducated man, to send my brother and me together with others. Despite school failure, I was admitted to a boarding school in Bombay in the same grade. I couldn't wait to get out of the house. Only on the day of my departure did I face the heartbreaking prospect of leaving behind my friends, family, and parents. "How will my father pay for my education?" Many times during the long journey to Bombay, I wondered.

 While escaping life at home, I was eager to venture out and seek new experiences in the big wide world. The journey consisted of thirty days at sea. My adolescent mind agreed to work hard during this long journey. I started missing my parents. I was thinking about my mother's affectionate nickname for him, "Jacko." I remembered my father's words. "Son, reading stimulates the mind, and writing inspires one to become an author."

 I made up my mind on the ship's deck, sitting on a vacant bench, and this gave me mental awareness of the long journey ahead. I had brought one large book with me to study. I started reading the book after being inspired by my father's words. I read the book twice without understanding or comprehending a single word. "What's the matter with me?" My inner consciousness alerted me. "No wonder people call me dumb." Suddenly, I thought to myself, "Bingo, I found my problem." "If I can't understand what I'm seeing, how can I write well?" Days flew by as I watched the rising sun, tossing waves, and freshening winds. The thought of money was put aside, and I began to evaluate myself as I reached for the stars.

 A bleak memory of my schooling in South Africa haunted me, carrying a zero in history. Nevertheless, I had another mentor, Leonardo da Vinci, in that renowned history class. I considered the elite in which he was regarded as a genius: an Italian Renaissance polymath, painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and author. My childhood fantasies took me far into an imagined world where everything came together perfectly. Becoming like Leonardo was easy, forgetting for a moment that I had the stigma of carrying a zero in history.

 Every child's dream is to live in a utopia, and I was a daydreamer. The only thing that came to mind was his famous painting the Mona Lisa. For the first time, I realized that a history lesson was for students like me. Understanding the past can inspire us to be like the celebrated people of today. I followed my inspiration and aspired to be a painter and an engineer for fame rather than fortune. I realized I had developed an interest in history and was eager to learn more about it. Money was gradually becoming a substitute for fame, and I aspired to be like Leonardo da Vinci. Growing children often experience confusion as a result of unbalanced family life. A fresh start will provide me with a second chance, which was the only opportunity I had anticipated.

 This thought brings my inspirational experience to a close.

 “Childhood is not a race to see how quickly a child can read, write and count. It is a small window of time to learn and develop at the pace that is right for each child. "Earlier is not better" - Magda Gerber