Worth of Gold

The sun loomed over the horizon. If everything would have been usual, Dheeran would have called it an ordinary day. The only exception – it was the fourth day of lockdown. Under the banner of quarantine, the people were experiencing life in a way they had had not fathomed. The lethal novel Coronavirus was waging havoc around the globe. It spared no choice but to self-isolate oneself. Dheeran, like many others, was witnessing highs and lows while adjusting to this mood of survival.

He got into a fight with his wife - Anika over household chores and then, Anika got into a fight with Dheeran over television. While day one was fun and full of high hopes, the following days were less promising. The lockdown was declared to last anywhere between fifteen to twenty-one days. The scenario worsened on the third day and only degraded with each ticking minute. No wonder why they — the marriage gurus — suggest spending at least a week with a potential partner before jumping the gun. It is but quite natural to pretend for an hour or two or a day even at a stretch and collapse your ego boundaries for the one, however, how long can you betray your gloomy side? If you seal that darkness away, it only undoes itself and seeks to devour you. That ugly, dark side lay bare in front of your chosen one and all hell break loose.

Everything falls into its place at first, and you win the person over, but what happens when a fatal pandemic comes riding in shining armor? Yes, an unforeseen encounter ensues. That happened when Dheeran and Anika had to share their waking hours in each other’s company without any outlet. No place run or hide.

“Such a big fat lie,” yelled Dheeran. “One soul, two bodies, my ass. I’ll shove this piece of advice up the ass once I get my hands on him.”

“Huh?” cried Anika, quite stunned. “Better shove it up yours and hope it finds your useless, dead brain cells. Such a mistake I’ve made in marrying your sorry-ass. Whining, whining, all the time.”

“Oh, like I got my promised paradise. I’d prefer this virus over you anytime.”

Anika gasped in horror. She bore a hole in Dheeran and flared her nostrils. “My, my, I’ve tied your hands and feet. How sadist can I be?” She strode towards the entrance door and threw it open with a thud. She then bowed almost parallel to the floor and pointed her arm outside. “Your lovely virus expects you.”

Dheeran sprinted outside like a prisoner does after he is freed. His ears picked up a thunderous bang and a silent click of the door locking behind him.

The sun was pouring down without any mercy. Even though it was March, it felt like a tormenting day of early May. The virus might or might not kill him, but this year’s summer will. He heaved a sigh, “Now what?” Indeed, what was he to do? Go back pleading? Spend the afternoon in the smelting sun? Though he was outside, he could not be on the streets or the police would not waste a minute in wasting him. The orders were set in stone. Should he step outside without any concrete backing, he would be attracting a fine or even a jail-time.

Amid growing concerns about the outbreak, a lockdown would be inevitable. While rumors were floating in the air about conceivable dates, Dheeran had worked out a way to kill the time while lockdown is decreed. Only, he portrayed a vainglorious interest in doing it for gardening demanded time, sweat, and discipline, of which Dheeran knew a little. An IT guy spending ten hours in the air-conditioned room would not last five minutes in horrid heat or so, his friends had commented and implored him to pick another hobby. Nonetheless, he ventured and secured necessary equipment but did not even pick a morsel of mud. “Perfect timing,” he grinned, ear to ear. “Like hell, I’ll go back to her. I shall toil my fields now.” His shrill laughs echoed and drew two figures to the window.

“What you think, Granny?” said a kid, staring out of the window. “Why Papa is laughing like a madman?”

“Oh, I wonder,” replied Grandma. “Anika, what is he doing?”

“Leave him be, Ma,” said Anika with a hint of annoyance. “He has lost it.”

“Ah, I see. All men do, eventually.” Grandma nodded in approving manner, recalling her stints with her man.

Dheeran disappeared from the view for a minute or two and reappeared with a shovel, a pair of gloves fastened around his hands, a hat resting askew on his head, a packet of fertilizer, and a watering can.

He strolled around the six hundred square feet lawn, flooded with thoughts and stomping hither and thither as if to dig a hole with his feet. After a while, he halted around a far corner of the lawn and nodded, “Okay, this is it.” Thrusting the shovel into the ground, he added, “Two by two and five feet deep. It seems alright.” He hesitated a bit, “Hmm... perhaps six would do.”

He lifted his leg and jammed it on the top edge of the shovel. The metal pierced the mud without any resistance. He retraced the shovel and gathered a handful of mud in his palm. “Ha. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Five minutes, the kid hurried to answer the door.

Like some dried up Egyptian mummy, Dheeran cried in a coarse voice, “Water. Please bring me water.” He was drenched in sweat from head to toe. His face was deprived of colors.

Three hours later and half-dead, he was a foot wider and four feet deep.

“This isn’t going anywhere as I’ve had predicted,” he cursed. With half his face red from the heat and another half from anger, he drove the shovel with all his might into the ground.

Something snapped.

Had he imagined it? Or was it just his brain? Pulling out the shovel, he glanced inside. More or less, it looked like an awkward hole in a plank, after it had been shattered somewhere along its length. “What in the world?” he uttered, dumbfoundedly. He fished his phone out of pockets and brought up the torch. The light penetrated the thick layers of darkness and down it went the hole. “Okay, change of plans.”

It was not until the sun was sinking from the horizon did he produce enough space for him to unearth whatever lay down the hole. If his reckoning was wise, the depth should gauge around twelve to fifteen feet.

Equipped with a rope, a hand-torch, and a bag, he began his descend. Anika was out by the site after the commotion Dheeran had fashioned and appealed him not to go as the dusk was settling in.

Despite her appeals, curiosity had its fang deep into Dheeran’s spirits and drew him closer, seducing him to explore the unknown. With a singular notion, he sank deeper into the ground.

Once at the bottom, he discovered where he was standing were dilapidated stairs running towards his home. Most of them had collapsed without any trace, but the signs did not betray its genuine nature. The stairs or the remnant wounded down.

The light from the torch disturbed the still darkness.

A distinct sound of water dripping in a distance echoed in his ears. Cobweb hung hither and thither and there was a brazier by the stone archway where the stairs approached its death. A stick torch - charred from use - was suspended just above the brazier. “What in the world?” Dheeran gasped. The archway gave way to a corridor. The rugged path and walls were marked with streaming water and smeared with moss. At the end of the passageway, a stout and menacing wooden door stood tall. Its iron handle was rusted and so were nails where it was fastened to the walls. Should he try it? It did not look like the job of a man to move that mammoth of a door. But of course, a try without hurt.

Leaning against the door, he employed some strength with his palms.

“Well, well,” Dheeran grinned. “Aren’t you a tough bastard?” He switched his tactics on moment’s notice and now, he rested his shoulder against the dark wood. “Heave-ho! Gun-ho!” he cried from his core. The door cried in pain but its resistance was colossal. Breathing in and out at a hare’s pace, Dheeran added, “Again. Heave-ho, Gun-ho!”

The giant squeaked only and a few splinters flew away from it.

Dheeran halted his quest and ran an eye along the edges. “But of course,” he yelled. “Locked, aren’t we?” He bobbed his head in regret, duly noting the budge his strength has borne in the door. A slit gave way around the frame. Two more pushes and the door would yield. Can he muster the strength for two? All that digging and excitement has left him weary. He was running on fumes already. And besides, what was the time?

He pulled out his phone and checked. It was Six-twenty. The remaining sunlight would die any minute now. He was not troubled in the least but his thoughts kept racing back to Anika. She might raise an alarm for there was no reception here. In his fit of exploration, he had squandered precious time in examining useless stones and walls. The answer was quite apparent. Snuff the flames of adventure for today and return tomorrow with renewed strength and vigor. It was the sanest choice under the circumstance.

However, Dheeran was a long shot from sanity. His blood was boiling. The adventure had called upon him. The adrenaline was going berserk. “Fuck tomorrow,” he sported a thin smile. “This is the moment,” and rammed the door. The hit was precise and robust. With two more vigorous blows, he fell the mammoth.

No sooner did the door kissed the floor that the dense cloud of dust drifted in and around Dheeran. He coughed a little and fanned his hand to rid dirt encompassing his face. A moment or two later, the dust settled and unlocked the view. The room was like any other storage room only it was decades if not centuries-old right below his living room.

Dheeran spurred the light around the room to sketch a rough map of it. To his right, there was a shelf loaded with papers. In front of him was a massive black metal box. He surmised a safe for it had two heavy locks clasping the opening together. He drew nigher to have a good look at it. A moment later, he was ensured of his wild guess. What it could bear? He grinned ear to ear. “Jackpot!” beamed him.

Dheeran moved the light to his left to sustain his inspection. A table and a chair came into his view. On the table, something reflected the light with sheer brilliance. It was shiny and yellow. “Aha, what do we have here?” he strode towards it and came upon five gold bangles and a necklace. “Oh boy! Oh boy!” He inspected the booty for a while and stowed it in his pockets.

Overcame by a strange instinct, he moved the fine beam of the torch and it illuminated an eerie figure resting on the chair at the remote corner of the room. His pupil widened. An uncanny cold sweat broke through him and he shrieked in great fear and fell hard on his butts.

The moment had made him lose his torch. He scrambled along the floor with his heartbeats going bananas. He fumbled twice before picking up the torch.

Dheeran sprayed the light on the figure again. It had not moved an inch but it felt it had. His feet were refuting his attempts to move in the direction of the figure. They were shaking as if a cold had overwhelmed them. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing,” he soothed himself to a degree. With a step at a time, he gained the proximity.

The figurine was hunched. It was leaning forward as if it retained something in its bosom. Dheeran pulled the cloth over its head and rested its spine parallel to the wall. On its lap where coins crafted out of gold and silver. “Not a pretty way to die, eh?” he said. He stepped back without any caution and knocked something. Shifting the light on the floor, he discovered he had moved a skull by a few inches. A bony arm was sticking out of the fallen door. “Oops, didn’t see you there. Uhm – apologizes!”

The dusk had gathered thick by the time Dheeran was fished out of the hole by his neighbors. Anika had raised the alarm, after all.

Dheeran recounted the adventure with a few inventions of his own to gain attention, but people were awed by the gold and silver he had unearthed. The discovery had spread like a wildfire and people poured in numbers to feast their eyes on the remnants of the old. Half an hour later, the media rushed in to cover the story and even interviewed Dheeran. They promised his name and photos would be in the newspaper and on the channel. Photos and news went viral on social media amid the Coronavirus crisis as most of the populace had had nothing but social media in times of quarantine. The headlines proclaimed, ‘Centuries-old Gold found in the garden of a man amid the lockdown. Luck has favored this man and spun the wheels to bring him a fortune.’ Further details were divulged as to how it was uncovered. 

When the night deepened, Grandma came to Dheeran and spoke in a matter of the fact tone, “The gold that is not given willingly is cursed, Dheeran. You should give it away. We are fulfilled already. We need it not.”

Dheeran netted his brows. “Huh really, Ma? I went to discover and extracted the treasure, and you want me to renounce it? Ha! What’s gotten into you?” He waited for no answer and added with conviction, “Haven’t you seen how many people came today? It is lockdown and yet, they came. I’m a celebrity now for god’s sake.”

“You must be kidding, Ma,” lamented Anika. “It is gold. Gold! Centuries-old. When they come and ascertain the exact date, it will fetch us an excellent price. The markets are down now, but we are not in a pinch. We shall only hold it till the markets settle in and then, we will give it away. For a price, of course. We aren’t going to withhold it. Maybe except for a necklace. It is damn too pretty. My guess is, two-hundred-year-old.” There was a strange glint in her eyes. “I can hardly part with it now,” she added slyly, caressing it around her neck.

Eyeing no further course, Grandma left the duo to their vile devices.

The next morning, hundreds of people from neighboring villages flocked together to congratulate Dheeran on his discovery and of course, to catch a glimpse of the gold.

A month later, when all the buzz around the mysterious discovery of three hundred-sixty-three-year-old gold had piped down, a local newspaper etched the news about a family and it read, ‘2.5 million-dollar gold goes to sale at cost of two lives!’