The Innocents by Nathan Senthil (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

read: “He who opens a school door, closes a prison - Victor Hugo.”

Below the plaque, the entire lower part was dedicated to framed photographs.

And every single one of them had the old lady in it. She was either presenting a medal or a certificate to some kid.

Though kids changed from frame to frame, she remained as a constant in them.

Squinting, Gabriel examined the photographs. Something was definitely off about her. She smiled but it was as if she really wasn’t looking at the camera.

Bill asked. “Were you a teacher or something?”

“I wish!” the old lady said. “They’re the kids I’ve sponsored through school.”

Gabriel quickly counted the photos. “All 34?”

“Yes.” She took a breath and her chest inflated. “Most of them are doctors, bankers, and architects now. One kid even went to space and worked at the ISS.” With her knuckle, she dabbed at the corner of her eye. “Before that, Mr. Astronaut was a purse snatcher.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. She was rescuing kids from crime. It was the first time he’d felt something positive in days.

Bill asked, “Were they orphans?”

“Worse. They were from—and I’m talking verbatim here—the hoods. Older thugs use little kids to sell drugs, carjack, burgle, even rob and murder. These innocent boys were trained in exactly the kind of things that their privileged counterparts all over the world were warned to stay away from.”

Gabriel asked, “Isn’t it dangerous to approach them on the streets? How do you get hold of them?”

“Through word of mouth mostly. Once I locate a kid, I talk to his parents. Have an intervention-like meeting and then send him to a boarding school far from here.”

“That’s just… wow,” Bill said, voicing Gabriel’s thought.

“You know about crime a lot better than I do. But one thing I can be certain of is that,” she lifted a finger, as if preaching, “only education cures crime.” She paused to think. “Except maybe the white-collar variety.”

“Couldn’t agree more, ma’am,” Gabriel said. He had digressed, but it was alright. Not every day one came across a paladin. “May I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“You saved all those kids with the income from a candy store?”

“Heavens no! It’s my son’s money.”

“But… private schools cost tens and thousands of dollars, if not more. Your son’s okay with it?”

“He loves his mommy too much to say no.” She smiled. “Anyway, we have enough. A spacious house, tasty food, a reliable car, and neat clothes. And what good is money if it’s just sitting in a vault somewhere? We all live on this planet together. Best if we act like it.”

Gabriel’s lips stretched. It was the first time he smiled in days.

The old lady was either incredibly naïve, or had reached a level of wisdom that he couldn’t fathom.

Gabriel said, “I-I would like to meet your son sometime. He seems like a great man.”

“He is! Next month he’ll be on leave; come then.” She smiled proudly.

Gabriel couldn’t imagine a strong and philanthropic mom like her raising anyone less than perfect.

The old lady clapped her hands in front of her. “Now my other children have started earning. Due to their generous contributions, my charity’s expanding and saving more at-risk kids. You do one good, it splits and does two goods and so on.”

Gabriel nodded. He had a similar idea of exponential growth about evil.

“Enough bragging,” she said. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“I thought I would borrow your video recordings. But I see you don’t have CCTV.”

“Can’t use it.” The old lady shrugged. “Is there any other way I could help?”

While Gabriel processed what she had said, Bill asked, “Can you tell us about Zesty?”

“That’s one of the few products we’ve been selling right from day one.”

“1968?”

“That’s correct.” For such an advanced age, she doubled over seamlessly and pulled a Zesty box from under the counter. Her hand reached into it and pulled out a lollipop.

Gabriel got it from her outstretched arm. Seeing that candy, not just the wrapper, gave Gabriel another bout of déjà vu. Feeling that solid thing in his hand, its stick, kindled some deep-seated memory. He had definitely seen Zesty before. And eaten it, too. Because he could almost taste it in his palate and at the back of his throat. He reached towards the distant memory and grasped parts of it.

There was a… black man, talking about a superhero…

“Are you okay?” Bill asked.

Gabriel snapped into reality. “What?”

“For a second there, you looked like you’d lost your breath.”

Gabriel shook off the feeling and placed the lollipop on the table. “May I see the box, ma’am?”

“Sure.” She pushed the box to his side.

He picked it up and turned it around. And there it was, the ingredients list. Frowning, he read through them—black peppers, long peppers, ginger, honey, lemon, cumin seeds, sugar, black salt, rock salt, and sal ammoniac.

“Can you clarify something for me?”

“Yes,” she said.

Gabriel iterated the ingredients that weren’t sweet. “You don’t see these in candies, do you?”

She said, “Zesty is not a candy, per se. It is a ginger-flavored digestive assistant that helps acid reflux and other indigestion problems.”

“Then why aren’t they widely available anymore?”

The old lady sighed. “In the late 2000s, a new chew tablet was introduced. It’s not tangy and it tasted a lot better than the salty-spicy Zesty. So most people simply switched to it. However, a very few still prefer ginger candies.”

“But why?”

“Could be placebo and the chew-tablets don’t work? Or they could have been used to Zesty from a young age?”

“A man of habit,” Bill said.

“Yes,” she said. “As long as the symptoms of their condition are alleviated, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

What she said clicked something in Gabriel’s brain.

“Thanks a lot, ma’am. You’ve been most helpful,”